So, I took a much needed break from the blog after the One Room Challenge (not that I was great about updating it before that, either, but still).
Frankly, I think I needed to re-center a bit after spending time and money on one room in our home. It’s easy to get caught up in buying and changing and perfecting, and while I loved the chance to think really hard about design and intentions in one space in our home, I also realized by the end of it that I was a bit caught up in trying to perfect something that simply doesn’t need to be perfect. What a cool opportunity it all is, both during the thinking/planning/working/creating phase, and also the aftermath where you sit back and admire the work and re-center yourself to think about the big picture.
In keeping with these thoughts, I’ve decided to share my list of New Year’s resolutions. I’ve never really been one for resolutions; that’s out of sheer laziness, not because I don’t think they’re worthwhile. I just always figure I won’t stick to them. But this year I feel the need to make some. So without further ado, here are my 2018 New Year’s resolutions for myself, for parenting, and for our life.
Teach The Boy to bake. Pete and I are jointly obsessed with The Great British Bake-Off. We’ve watched 2.5 seasons so far, and we both really enjoy the competition, but also the good attitudes of everyone on the show. The Boy, miracle of miracles, doesn’t mind the show, either, so it’s something we can watch as a family. He has shown an interest in baking with me, and we’ve tried a few things so far.
The Boy is a super picky eater, and while he hasn’t been brave enough to try most of what we’ve made, I’m hoping fostering this interest will make him a bit more adventurous. I’m going to let my hyper-organized, perfectionist tendencies slide and teach him the right way to do some of the skills, encourage him to experiment, and tackle stuff that seemed a bit to difficult or time-consuming.
Be more intentional with purchases for myself, my son, and our home. This goal is actually two-fold. First, I find it way too easy to spend money sometimes. I try not to buy too much stuff, and I try to make sure it’s real, quality stuff when I do buy things, but I, like everybody else, can cut back more. I spend too much time window shopping online; it’s wasteful in more ways than one.
Additionally, I’m going to really start paying attention to what’s recyclable and what’s not. I’m tired of throwing money at companies that don’t make some effort toward sustainability. If I have to be the annoying lady at the grocery store who’s taking forever to inspect the packaging of her diced tomatoes, then so be it. We already recycle some things, but we can do better.
Grow a garden. This isn’t really connected to the statements above, although I guess it could be. It’s just that we’ve always known that the Huffaker House wasn’t our last stop, so I’ve always been hesitant to put in the infrastructure needed for a real food garden. I’ve done a couple plants here and there, and I’ve started and given away lots of tomatoes because I love taking care of baby plants, but we’ve never put in the kind of garden I had when I was a kid. We can’t quite achieve that size of a plot where we are, but this is the year we plant a real garden so I can enjoy growing some of our food.
The garden is actually going to go in our little side yard, which currently houses the ducks. We’ll probably have an extensive period of trial-and-error for figuring out how to make a garden/duck yard work, but I look forward to the challenge, and to having a kitchen garden literally steps away from my kitchen door.
More music. This one’s personal and long-winded. Skip if you wish.
I’ve been a singer as long as I remember, at least in my heart. 🙂 I sang all the time when I was kid, and even though my mom wasn’t sure I was all that talented, she and a music teacher (whom I adored) had enough faith in me to start teaching me the right way to do it. I started voice lessons when I was in 6th grade, and as I learned proper singing techniques, I also learned to think on my feet, to accept both praise and criticism, to present myself to people I didn’t know in a way that made me feel proud and capable.
Over the years, my voice helped me find my tribe in musical theatre. The theatre world contains some of the most beautiful hearts, people who love unconditionally, accept others for exactly who they are, and meet every new situation and challenge with confidence, creativity, and an open heart. I’ve moved many times, but almost every time, I’ve found a home with theatre people. When I am onstage, I feel like I’m the best version of myself.
The reason I get to do all of this is because music moves me, I have a talent for it, and I love sharing it with others.
However, about 2 years ago, during a production of the musical Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, I started having hearing problems. My ears felt like they were popping and not going back to normal afterward. I would be teaching at work and feel like all I could hear was my own voice. I had a sore jaw from trying to pop my ears back. I couldn’t always hear the monitor onstage. I tried to address the problem, but I couldn’t find any doctors who knew what was wrong. I was told to put on weight to correct what might be a patulous Eustachian tube, I had corrective surgery on my sinuses to help with air flow, and I was told I was overreacting (and hormonal OMG) by one incredibly insensitive ENT.
I finally found a doctor at Vanderbilt after insisting on a referral who diagnosed me with superior semicircular canal dehiscence syndrome. Basically, my ear canals are wearing away, possibly from my heartbeat. My left semicircular canal has a hole in it. My right will, too, someday. All of this makes my body act like a tuning fork; I hear sounds through my bones. My voice reverberates in my head. I hear my stomach grumble from inside my body. I can hear my eyeball move (it sounds like a bowling ball, by the way). If you hit a tuning fork and then touch my right ankle, even though nobody in the room hears the tone, I hear it clear as a bell in my left ear. And loud sounds outside my body make my eyeball jump (it’s called Tulio’s phenomenon, and it’s really weird and disorienting).
All of this has caused a lot of heartache. My voice feels like so much a part of me, but when I started being uncomfortable singing, I just stopped doing it. And because I couldn’t comfortably sing along, I stopped listening to music. Any music. In my car, at home, singing to myself while doing the dishes. Just silence instead. No show tunes at the top of my lungs. No humming (that’s the worst). I even avoided seeing friends’ shows because they were doing something I didn’t feel like I could do anymore. I was jealous and heartbroken and felt like an asshole for not being very supportive.
To top it off, an attempt at corrective surgery mostly failed and left me with a permanent ring in my left ear.
Now that I have a diagnosis and am realizing the futility of the safer treatment options, and I know that someday (hopefully a long time from now) SSCD will probably completely sideline me from performing in musical theatre, I’m done being sad. I’ve started learning to accept what my voice sounds like to me, now. It’s loud. It’s uncomfortable. Sometimes the letter “M” makes me want to crawl out of my skin. But you know what? This summer, I did a show called Urinetown and had a blast, even though I couldn’t always hum during warmups, and even though a cold made my ears worse the first weekend, and even though I didn’t quite sound the way I wanted to all the time. It was the best. It was so worth it.
There’s really no fixing this stupid little developmental defect, but I’m not going to let it rob me of the thing that makes me happiest. So I’m going to play music (not too loudly because eyeballs) in my car again. I’m going to sing while I’m vacuuming the house. The Boy and I are going to put on Disney songs while we bake and dance in the kitchen together. I’m going to run into the living room when the Act I Finale of Shrek: The Musical is on the TV and pretend I’m Sutton Foster. And I’m going to keep singing onstage until I can’t anymore. And then I’ll direct.
I’m going to take some baby steps to start listening and singing again. As I go, I’ll have to accept that I don’t sound like I used to in my own head, that it will sometimes be uncomfortable, and that there will be things I just can’t do anymore. But you know what? I can still do a lot. I’ve got time and a lot of tolerance. It hasn’t robbed me of my voice yet, and who knows when it will, so I might as well enjoy it while I can.
It’ll be fine. It’ll be more than fine; it’ll be fun.
And finally, the resolution I hope we all have, every year, forever: I’m gonna learn more stuff.
The best part of being human is that we’re innately curious. May we all be lifelong learners, forever and ever, amen.
Love to all of you, and lots of learning about ourselves, about each other, and about cool stuff in the New Year.