3/07/05 RM Newsletter: Own the Net

Today's Quote: "Thank God every day when you get up that you have something to do that day which must be done whether you like it or not. Being forced to work and forced to do your best will breed in you temperance and self-control, diligence and strength of will, cheerfulness and content, and a hundred virtues, which the idle
will never know." Basil Carpenter


When I took up the game of tennis about eight years ago, it required years of private lessons and clinics in order to learn--in my forties--a totally new skill set. Most of my girlfriends, particularly those raised in the south, had picked up this sport in their childhood. And because I felt like I was missing out on a lot of fun (southern social life practically depended on the sport), I decided it was as good a time as any to get in there and give it a "go." Yet as my husband lovingly reminded me during those angst-filled early days: "You're probably the only forty-year-old woman in Kentucky who has never picked up a racket." Thanks, honey. I needed that. Those early days were filled with frustration at my lack of ability to hit the ball with any consistency; at my immature grasp of strategy; and of the fact that I was the lowest common denominator for the sport. To call this beginning period a humbling experience would be understatement.


One of my coaches along the way drilled into my head that when you're at the net, you "own the net." This charming little piece of advice has always stayed with me. Now, as a doubles player most of the time, I find myself silently reciting it--sometimes over and over again--when I take my turn at the net.


Particularly in very competitive games, I remind myself of the importance of owning the net when it's my turn to play it. Being in "ready position" with my racket, my hands, and my knees. Going for poaches when possible (the weakest part of my game);
anticipating where the opponent will return the ball; aiming for obnoxious angles.


Excusing the analogy for those of you who do not play the game (I hate when golfers do this to me!) the application to home life is particularly helpful. As I was cleaning up messes all week long, for some reason, the "own the net" phrase kept popping into my head. And I found myself becoming somewhat reassured by it as I
went through the mundane motions of my days. So I'm hoping that it will help you, too.


For example, when I finally attacked the four stacks of papers on my kitchen desk (a totally separate entity than my work desk, my kitchen desk is the catch-all for school papers, medical bills,invitations, coupons, theater tickets, and kid stuff), I reminded myself to "own the net." This messy area of the house is a physical space that I need to "own" whether I like it or not. Being a free-spirited artsy type, I despise all things administrative. (Seriously, I get chest pains even thinking about
doing paperwork). Spending Friday afternoon going through our son's enormous medical bills--the insurance companies don't understand how to configure bills that make sense to the customer!--was not exactly my cup of tea. But someone had to do it, and
that someone was me. I had to take ownership and deal with it. I had to own the net. And so I turned on my favorite classical music station on the stereo, made myself a great cup of coffee, and spent five hours going through the tedious task of dealing
with, pitching, paying, and filing the awful mess on my desk. (It was really ugly.) Once done, I felt an enormous sense of satisfaction. I owned the net.


Do you ever get the laundry room blues? You know: you walk into the area and it's one stain after another. A pile of whites next to an even larger pile of darks. Add to the mix a "snow day": wet mittens, wet socks, wet towels, and dripping boots are wonderful little accoutrements of northern living. An extra load or two never turns me on, but up here in New England, I need to get used to it. I need to own the net in my laundry room...or it will own me! So rather than rolling my eyeballs and stomping my foot, I remind myself to just own it. To just start doing it before it
gets out of control. To make a game out of separating the pinks from the reds and the jeans from the towels. For tossing the frozen outerwear into the dryer before it's too late. When things get really awful--like they did for me the other night when I walked into my laundry room to see a handwritten note by my thirteen-year-
old daughter, pinned to the brand new polo shirt that she bought with her own money, that read: "EMERGENCY!!! Get this stain out tonight so I can wear it tomorrow!" right next to the chocolate stain that resulted from an enthusiastically-mixed batch of birthday brownies she made for a friend of Nick's--I needed some dark chocolate myself just to get though this newly-discovered crisis. (Never hesitate to pop chocolate into your mouth before any laundry room chores by the way.) Whatever, own the net there, too. I'm sure it's part of your everyday reality whether you want
it to be or not.


Ditto for chauffeuring your kiddies around town. Huge potential for boredom and battle fatigue, huh? Own the net. Put a favorite CD in the stereo, use the time to teach an object lesson, or just let them vent about the problems in their little worlds and put on your listening cap.


Same thing for that nightly bubble bath ritual. Surely you have the drill down pat by now. But sometimes those extra puddles on the floor and the escaping rubber duckies just push you right over the edge. So sing a silly song as you wrap your freshly scrubbed babe in his favorite hooded towel and own the net. I used to sing the "King Farouk" song, bundling my kids into hooded-towels-turned-coronation-robes. I sang a goofy song every time I wrapped them up. The sometimes exhausting ritual (I was usually worn out by bath time) maintained some sense of charm as long as I could keep good cheer...and own the net. Those kiddie bubble baths are long gone now, yet my teens spend more time in the bathroom than I could have ever imagined (or remembered spending myself). And teach your older kids to own the net, too, by showing them how to scrub a sink, wipe down a shower stall, and spritz the mirrors.


Owning the net means everything from getting your kids off to the right start in the morning with a healthy breakfast to ensuring healthy lunchboxes to forcing them to bed on time to disciplining them when they break curfew. It means shopping for new clothes when they need them and removing stains when they make them. It means sweeping crumbs off your kitchen floor and cleaning cobwebs off your front door. It means sewing on the buttons when they fall off and stitching up the seams when they rip apart. It means taking care of the myriad mundane details that can either plague
us or inspire us as we work the front line.


Owning the net also means consciously infusing your rooms with beauty, instead of believing that "beauty happens." It means looking for ways to add color and texture, pattern and symmetry, and flowers and sunshine to the corners of your world. To me, it means stitching needlepoint pillows and reproduction samplers. Hooking folk art rugs and painting in oils. Owning the net at home requires it to not only have all systems up and running smoothly; it means having them oiled with beauty and charm.


As you go through the motions of your day--understanding full well that some of them will be "funner" than others--remind yourself to own the net. It goes with the territory. And, if truth be told, we recognize--be it through battle fatigue or
through unexpected joy--that it's all territory which we feel particularly privileged to claim.


And as you gain proficiency in this thing we call motherhood, you'll be surprised to find that owning the net comes pretty naturally after awhile. Your hands, arms and legs will be in ready position, you'll be on the lookout for oncoming balls, and
you'll even be able to hit obnoxious angles.


Blessings!


Carolina

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A Nick Note

Nick starts another couple days of chemo today, having a break last week. Monday and Tuesday should hold some pretty brutal treatments. Please keep him in your prayers. We pray daily for his complete and total physical healing. He continues to receive
cards from many readers of this newsletter, many from folks he's never even met! It warms our hearts to know that he is enveloped by a canopy of intercession on his behalf! To those of you who continue to hold him tight, thank you!