Stop and Smell the People

I have to stop this for awhile…

You’ve probably noticed I haven’t written very much lately.

Since I started this website at the end of May 2009, I’ve written more the 400 posts. You’ve written nearly 3000 comments (2910 to be exact). This month alone (August 2010) StopandSmellthePeople.com has had nearly 60,000 hits and it’s only the 17th. I’m amazed by all of that. Looking at SASTP.com by the numbers it looks robust and full of life.

Which I suppose makes my next thought a contradiction: I need to stop writing now.

For how log I don’t know. But this will be my last entry for awhile. Half of me thinks this website is ending and half thinks it’s only a hiatus. I’d like to be more clear, but I don’t really know what to tell you. I just know I have to stop writing now.

The facts are simple: I can’t manufacture any more hours. Time is what it is. Between my family life with Anna and Crowley and  my job as Managing Editor of WDBJ7, I don’t have any time to do quality writing. What I’ve written for the website for the last several months I’ve done falling asleep at midnight. I type and fall asleep. I wake up and type some more and fall asleep again. That’s just not good enough. I owe you all and myself my best work. Neither you or I are getting that. Each time I read what I last wrote, I cringe.

So I have to stop writing for now. I can’t quit being a dad or a husband. I can’t quit my job at WDBJ7. Nor do I want to quit any of those. I don’t really want to quit writing either. But I have to stop something or I’ll burn out. I’ve been burned out. It’s an ugly experience. So as sad as it makes me to do this, I have to put StopandSmellthePeople.com on hiatus.

If I decide after a spell that I have to quit altogether, I’ll write one last farewell entry. If I feel refreshed and believe I can give the website my best, I’ll pick it back up with great joy. But right now, I have to make a difficult decision based on nothing more than the clock ticking on the wall. I only get so many hours in this life to be a good dad and husband.

I used to have enough time to live life and then write about it. And do both well. Right now I have only enough time to live it. And I want to live it very well.

I covet your prayers and thoughts on this matter.

Life is shorter than we pretend. Doing isn’t good enough. Being is what matters… MR

Word

You may have noticed the hits counter is gone. It disappeared. On my orders. It was becoming a distraction to me. I started counting hits and stopped thinking about people. I was feeling driven instead of doing some driving. So I had it removed a few weeks ago. I did it just to see if I could reset my writing clock. It was a test.

I passed. Woo. (That’s a sarcastic small woo, no exclamation point.)

It may seem trivial. It probably is. But it worked for me. I feel inspired to write again. Go figure.

Now all I think about is this… what I’m writing, not numbers. I’m focused again. Or as focused as I can be at my age with a 1-year-old teetering on the edge of walking… and a wife who likes to talk over a glass of wine.

We still have a few ways to study the data of those visiting SASTP.com but I’m not hung up on the hits. In fact, I haven’t looked at the data since the hits counter went bye-bye.

Now, if we do a reader contests it will be something completely different, driven by some creative idea and not just a hits counter steadily ticking away.

We’re somewhere between 150,000 and 200,000. That’s all I remember. And I’m not going to count hits anymore. I’m just counting words.

Peace, 227… MR

Finding peace in health care hell…

I’ve heard more lies about health care in the last nine months than I have the previous 49 years. Liberals are lying. Conservatives are lying. Liars are telling the truth. It’s a great big overheated emotional debate.

I’ve read the summary of the bill. I learned a lot. I read the CBO’s report. No idea how those numbers work. But I’m lousy at math.

I will say this about health care overhaul: whether the bill passes or fails the sun will come up on Monday and again on Tuesday. I’ll breathe in and out. My one-year-old will want breakfast. My wife will kiss me goodbye at the front door.

Health care is not the end of the world. It’s not even the end of democracy, as some claim. This is an amazing country. We’re going to be around for a while. We may have high unemployment. Our economy might languish for years to come. Or we may discover a cheap new energy source and all live like kings. Heck, we may die in a natural disaster. But a health care bill will not be our undoing pass or fail.

If it fails, millions of Americans lives’ will not change at all. They’ll wake up Monday without health care. Life goes on. For some it goes on with sadness and pain but it goes on just the same.

Those who are screaming that if the bill passes it’s the beginning of the end live in a different country than I do. They live in a world of fear. Those who say if it fails our health care system will implode in the next 10 years perhaps might need to step back from the edge. I say let it implode. We’ll pick up the pieces and make a better system. It’s what we do. We’re Americans.

I am amazed at how emotional people are regarding this. I guess it all depends on where you bet your life. If you’re betting your life on homes and cars and jobs and political beliefs (right or left) than you’ll get what you deserve: anxiety, disillusionment and anger. I’m going to bet my life on the things you can’t vote on or buy: peace, kindness and joy.

Ask a man who’s dying of cancer where he wants to bet his life; He’s going to spend what life he has left on the things that outlast countries and governments. Truly great people have talked about peace and hope and kindness for as long as humans have walked the earth. It’s a truth that never dies… even if a death panel tries to pull the plug. (Kidding, of course.)

My wish for all of you is to realize that while your political beliefs are certainly worth protesting for… don’t confuse them with the eternal.

You can be a source of peace and joy to everyone around you even if the vote goes against your politics.

So peace… find yours… MR

I’m a sap Pt. 2…

I’m calling this, “I’m a sap Pt.2″ because I’m almost 100% certain that last year I wrote an entry called, “I’m a sap.” (And I’m too lazy to go through the archives and check.)

If I didn’t, someone will correct me and I’ll correct this.

Onward.

I’m a wreck. I’m an unstable buffoon. I walk around all day wondering what’s wrong with me. I used to be tough. At least I used to fake being tough. Now I got nothing. I’m a sap.

Baking cookies. Little man watches with great interest.

My baby boy has turned me into mush. No less than 10 times a day I find myself daydreaming about him, his laugh, his hilarious attempts at walking, the way he likes to nap in my arms, the face he makes when I try to make him eat healthy food, the way he “dances” when he hears music, how he squeals with joy when I crawl around on the floor with him… I have to snap myself out of it. It’s pathetic. There are even moments, maybe once a day when I get teary-eyed thinking about him. The joy I feel is penetrating.

I practically run from the car to the front door when I get home from work. I have to put my cruise control on so I don’t speed while driving home. When I head to work in the morning I’m sad. I miss him the second I walk out the door. I turn around and see his little face pressed up against the glass looking at me and I think, “Maybe I should be a farmer so I can walk out the door and work in the fields right next to the house.”

I’m sure he turns around, looks at his toys and forgets I even left. But it doesn’t work that way for me.

Crowley likes to climb under EVERYTHING!

Here’s why. The truth of the issue is, I missed my #1 son every day of my life after his mother and I separated 21 years ago. I gritted my teeth and faked my way through life but I was never a complete person again. I blame myself for it all. Trevor, now 23, and I have an incredible relationship. We always have. But you can’t replace all that missed time with anything else. Lord knows I tried to fit things into that emptiness, hoping to dull the constant ache. I was fooling myself. Nothing can fix it.

Over the years, good friends who know of my past have sought me out for advice about life and marriage and kids. A few have asked me

The Redding boys... me, Crowley and Trevor.

what I think they should do… their marriages felt over, irretrievably lost. They probably thought I would tell them to walk away and move on. What I told them is this: You will miss your children so much you’ll never sleep well again. That empty ache will never go away. You’ll try to numb the pain with other relationships but the sadness will never heal. If you can handle that, go ahead and move on. Lovely advice, don’t you think?

Fast forward to today: I relish every second I get with my #2 son, Crowley. I don’t even want to go to church because that’s 60 minutes I’ll miss him. I work about 55 hours a week. That’s 3,300 minutes I already miss out on each week. Every second I get with my boy is a second I’m lost in joy.

I can’t even explain how much this means to me. And I’m supposed to be good with words. Not so much.

My heart is full. Anna and Crowley are my world. Why would I want to be anywhere else?

I’m a sap. A happy sap…. MR

Been thinking a lot lately…

UPDATE: This is for Mark, who commented this morning: YES! I was just bugging Anna last night to get on with her next Baby Diary! I mean, come on! How much time does it take to care for a helpless child who is on the verge of walking? All she does all day is sew his clothes and teach him to swim and read him stories and feed him and change him and sing to him and take him on adventures. Slacker!

But seriously, she needs to write more somehow someway. And I let her know you all miss her writing. Okay. Back to today’s entry…

Been thinking a lot about my friends who are still without jobs. I spent the bulk of last year without a steady income. It was a stretching time. I felt pulled so tight you could pound me like a bongo.

Being jobless when the economy is so desperately screwed up is a nerve racking experience. It’s a test every minute of every day to stay within yourself. To be at peace when everything around you is screaming “FREAK OUT!” is a delicate tightrope act. When I finally accepted a job, I felt a sense of relief I can’t describe. I suppose that means I wasn’t very good a finding inner peace in the middle of my painful trial. But I gave it my best.

My heart and prayers go out to those of you who are still on the tightrope. If I can encourage with one piece of advice: it’s all about the very next step. Not the step 50 feet away. Just the next one. Like a tightrope walker you keep your gaze on the horizon but your whole being is feeling the next step. I remember working on being in the moment. I didn’t want to miss out on whatever was happening right here and now… and not spending my time worrying about next week or next month or even next year. I knew if I wasn’t present in that moment than I was cheating life and cheating my wife and son of my best effort.

I wish you all peace. You are not forgotten… MR

Too much fun…

I can’t tell you how much fun I’m having with Anna and Crowley. Crowly is 11 months. Anna is, uh, older than Crowley. 

I can’t think of a time in my life where I have been happier. 2009 was a struggle. It was work to stay in the moment and not look down the road hoping each day would pass more quickly so we could get past the stress of being between jobs.

2010 is not 2009. Not even close. Today I want time to grind to a halt. There aren’t enough minutes in a day. I would be absolutely fine if my life slipped into a “Groundhog Day” syndrome, doing the exact same thing over and over every single day, I would die a happy man. Of course if I were living the same day over and over again I wouldn’t ever die. But that’s another story.

Life isn’t perfect. I’m good with that. That fact is an important part of the joy for me. I’m big on learning to love imperfection. Call it divine discontent. The kind of imprerfection that teaches you life lessons you would otherwise not get the opportunity to learn. And I still have a million things to learn.

The older I get the less I know! WOOO HOOOO! But the less I know the more focused I am on the simple things that make life what it is. And what it is is good.

Anna and baby boy are a joy to me. I couldn’t have planned all this if I tried.

 So if you asked me, “Where will you be in five years?” I’d have to modify the question and answer to cover only where will I be tomorrow: playing with Anna and Crowley.

That’s all I want to do these days… MR

MY NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION? TO FEEL MY BOOBIES!

By Anna Redding and Guest Blogger Jennifer Mathis

I haven’t written a headline that salacious since I was a local TV news reporter! And yes, this really is my New Year’s resolution. It’s an idea I picked up from a mom at my baby boy Crowley’s weekly Charlotte playgroup. That’s right. We don’t just let the children play, we talk about boobies.

Let me ‘splain. Driving to our first playgroup appointment was something of a head-trip. Sort of like when I looked around my first “married” neighborhood out in the suburbs and thought, “I don’t belong here with all these married people. This is so freakin’ weird.” I told Mike my worries, to which, he said, “Anna, YOU ARE MARRIED. YOU ARE ONE OF THEM.” It was a shocking moment. I had settled down.

Flash forward. Three years later, my cousin Keiran invited Crowley and I to her playgroup. Wow! Playgroup. I am officially a suburban housewife mom. Long gone were days of chasing down politicians, scammers and Emmy awards. But I threw on a nursing top (the kind where the front unsnaps for easy access to Mother Cow) and a grabbed a flashy piece of jewelry to counter balance my mommyness and drove Crowley to our first playgroup. During the drive, I wondered: Are these moms going to look down their noses at me? Are they going to size up my baby gear? Did I remember his bottle? Diapers? Where will I nurse him? Should I turn around? Kind of hard to believe there was room in the car for Crowley, with all my insecurities in tow. But I kept driving. After all I was desperate to find out from other moms, if I would ever complete a sentence again… or not only have an intelligent thought, but successfully articulate it as well. 10 months postpartum – brain still on hiatus : (

With a lug of a car seat carrier on my elbow, I rang the doorbell… Continue reading ‘MY NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION? TO FEEL MY BOOBIES!’

Am I late?

I’m a smidge late. That’s a lie. I’m so late I should be pregnant. I’m so late I’ve mourned the loss of my time and have reached the “acceptance” stage of grief.

I didn’t finish all my Christmas cards. Half my family didn’t get one. And I’m not even sure where I left off alphabetically. I’ll have to call them all to figure it out. It also means half my friends didn’t get a card. I was writing cards, and then a snowstorm hit and, well, we work a lot in big news events. That one ended and some guy takes four guns into a Post Office and starts shooting. Three hostages later it’s Christmas eve and I haven’t purchased all my gifts.

I haven’t even called the winner of the “Reader 130,000″ contest yet. Sorry, Nic. I’ll get there.

Me and my boys, Crowley and Trevor, Christmas 2009.

On the up side, I’m sitting on the couch watching football with my #1 Son, Trevor. And the cards and calls will have to wait until he leaves in a few days.

Trevor hasn’t seen Crowley (my #2 son) since his little brother was 3 weeks old! Now Crowley is almost 10 months. When Trevor last saw Crowley, Crowley had three basic tricks: he ate, he slept, he pooped. That’s it. Now he crawls, jabbers on an on in a magical language, hugs, giggles, plays peek-a-boo, shuffles along behind his push car (picture an old person with a walker), loves to eat meatballs and  gives high-fives. Coincidentally, those are all things I like to do.

I’ll catch up around President’s Day. Maybe.

Peace… MR

Learning

This will sound odd, but I feel like I’m growing again.

In Charlotte as the Carolina Traveler my life was sort of on a repeating loop. I enjoyed my life but other than learning to be a good husband and father, I think I stopped learning… professionally. I wasn’t being challenged. Going from a storyteller to a teacher has been an extraordinary, exhilarating experience. (And that’s a alot of words that start with “ex.”)

(One more.) I come home at night exhausted. My brain is on overload. I’m learning so much my mind is swollen. I must have been in a rut in Charlotte. It was too comfortable. I stopped growing. Not good.

Now I walk into a newsroom and all day long I’m learning. I’m studying every single journalist with whom I work. I have to understand their strengths and weaknesses. Their personalities. Their defenses. What buttons make them learn and which ones shut them down. It’s a nine hour pop quiz every day.

Learning is growing. Growling is life. (Last one.) I’m excited… MR

Living LARGE… on our anniversary

Last year’s anniversary wasn’t just any anniversary. We were expecting a baby and  expecting him any minute. The nursery was ready… after obsessively sewing the curtains at six weeks pregnant and the rest of the bedding along the way. The car seat was installed and inspected by the Matthews Police department (we had only three mistakes). The bassinet that cradled my grandfather, father and me was waiting for our baby Crowley. Our bags were packed and by the front door.

“Anna,” Michael said, “how do you want to spend our anniversary?”

Three years have passed since we eloped in Italy, March 4, 2006. I thought about our first anniversary. We went with an Italian theme and headed to the opera. We fought the whole way. “I can’t believe we are going to be late!” I said (actually it was a shrill.)

“Anna?” Mike said in his I’ve-had-enough-of-this-conversation voice, “I was downstairs ready and waiting for you for 20 minutes!”

“Yeah, but you should have told me that I was going to be late!!” Ah the joys of the first year of marriage!

But nothing beats the time we were driving to the beach and he was slightly miffed and I said sweetly, “Um. Excuse me… could you roll down the window and let your voice out?” I thought he was going to lose it. But it was so funny and whacked out, I started laughing which only made things worse.

So how to celebrate year number three and no longer fighting about such insanity (99.9% of the time)? Anniversary number two was kind of hard to beat. A week at the Grove Park Inn, Asheville, NC… days spent mostly in their amazing spa. They have created a subterranean cave, with stone ceilings that sparkle with starlight. So very many fireplaces blaze and crackle away while you swim in warm mineral water. As I am writing this, I am wondering what in the heck I am doing sitting on the couch here in Roanoke… I need to pack up the car and head to Asheville in a hurry!

So back to the question at hand. “How should we celebrate the fact that we made it through three blissful years of marriage?”

Oh let the magic begin!

At nine months pregnant… I was a little uncomfortable. I mean I felt a knot so low in my abdomen, I went to my doctor. “Anna,” he said in a matter of fact, no duh kind of way, “that’s the baby’s shoulder!” It’s one of those moments when you really get it. The birds and the bees and that a whole entire human baby is about to come out of… well, about to be born. And you sort of get a major reality check about how exactly that is going to happen.

So I was uncomfortable, tired…sooooo tired and ready to have my baby. Nothing else existed in my world, sad to say, including our anniversary. I wondered, “could we just skip it this year?” Of course I didn’t say that out loud. I didn’t want to hurt Mike’s feelings.

The views from the veranda were unlike any trip we've ever been on!

So I answered, “I want to go to Costco and buy new tires for the car.”

Yep. My how priorities change in twelve little months!

So on March 4^th, we got into the car (it took me a while) and drove up the road to Costco. It would take about 90 minutes for the tire shop to finish the job so we had the rest of the store to kill the time. The only drawback to this idea, I found, was the enormity of the store… and the location of the bathroom. It’s not centrally located.

But the magic of the trip was just beginning. Wait! I could see it from a mile away: an outdoor furniture section complete with a tented gazebo and chaise lounge. It was calling my name.

“The cushions are so cozy,” I thought as I put my feet up. I’m not sure

how much time went by. But I awoke to the sound of an iPhone taking my picture… Continue reading ‘Living LARGE… on our anniversary’