It’s as Simple as Punkin

June 23, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

I love dogs for so many reasons.

Bad day?
I’ll snuggle up to you and we’ll exhale together.

Good day?
Awesome! Let’s celebrate!

Leaving?
Bummer, man—really? Okay…but please come back soon. Please. Soon.

Coming home?
YES!! My prayers have been answered! You’ve returned! I love life! Let’s play! Did you bring me anything???

They ask so little—some basic care and decent treatment—and in return, their love is amazing. It doesn’t get much purer than a dog’s love.

I’ve been blessed to have great dogs throughout my life, and each one of them has had a distinct and wonderful personality. We have so much fun watching the two dogs that we have play and interact—they are a continual source of enjoyment.

Don’t get me wrong—they can drive us crazy, too—especially when someone has the audacity to walk by our house and the dogs bark like two raving banshees on meth. Then I maybe might raise my voice a teensy bit and gently tell them to shush. Just maybe.

But by far the blessings outweigh the challenges.

Our one dog Vito is a shelter dog that I am so grateful made his way into our lives.

I’m very comfortable admitting that there are many sharper crayons in the Crayola box than Vito—but he is our quirky little boy and we love him.

One of V’s little quirks is Punkin. It’s his absolute favorite toy, and the only one that has survived over time. While other toys made it less than a week when he was a puppy, Punkin was loved but left whole.

For whatever reason, Vito treats Punkin like a child would his favorite pacifier or blanket. He actually suckles the thing. He holds onto it with his paws and his tongue nuzzles a spot that is now worn bare.

And when Vito is extra happy, he goes and gets Punkin. When one of us comes home, inevitably Vito will run and get the toy and celebrate with a few suckles. Yea! My people are all home! I love life! I love YOU! How was your day?! Do you want to play? Have I told you lately how happy I am that you’re home?!

Punkin equals joy for Vito. It dependably lifts his spirits and helps him rejoice. To me, it’s representative of one of the great things about dogs—that easy and complete love that they are absolutely ready to give.

And so I love dogs. I love how they love with their whole hearts and forgive quickly and repeatedly. I love how they are fiercely determined to protect those they love. I love how they are thrilled to see me—even if I’ve only been gone a few minutes. I love how they will offer their bellies up as a way to say, “Go ahead—love me. I trust that you won’t hurt me.”

Dogs just bring it down to the simple. Beyond having their basic needs met, it’s pretty much all about love. What a great reminder for me day after day. I aspire to love with that same kind of openness and joy.

So while Vito won’t win any smart dog contests, he’s certainly won my heart. And I think he’s pretty okay with that.

PS–I’m totally not a fan of dressing dogs up in silliness, but Vito gets chilly when we go for walks when it’s cold, and can he help it if he looks this studly wearing his jean jacket? I think not.

He’s Beyond Me

April 28, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 8 Comments

Equipping for our obsolescence…isn’t that the main role of a parent? Parents strive to prepare their kids to be healthy, independent members of society. Our success means…they don’t need us anymore.

As the mom of a ten-year-old, I am obviously not there yet. Just getting him to butter his toast without showering crumbs into the stratosphere is a challenge. But I do already see flashes of the future man he will be.

When I see his caring touch with younger kids—even as an “only” not able to experience younger siblings—I see the loving dad he one day may become.

And when I see him calculate math problems that already make my eyes cross, I see the complex problem solver evolving who one day will be able to tackle the difficult issues that come his way.

Even though he’s only ten, I already see that he is beyond me in some ways, and it is both a scary and amazingly wonderful feeling.

With the math, it’s mostly because I’m more than a little bit rusty on the work he is doing, and it never came easy to me in the first place. Thankfully, I am blessed with a math-minded spouse, so I am able to say, “Go ask your dad,” but if I needed to, I’m relatively sure that I could reawaken that part of my brain and help him out. (Right?)

But there is one part of his world that he is already clearly beyond me, and it touches my heart deeply.

I love music, but I don’t play an instrument. If you remember my history of faking the flute, you know I greatly respect musicians and wish I had the ability. So much so that I did try piano lessons as an adult, but after reaching the heights of “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,” I knew it was time to turn in the keys. Between needing my hands to move independently of one another and follow the music, the spaz in me just couldn’t keep up. And when my beloved piano teacher added the foot pedal, well…I think I simply combusted internally.

But my kid gets it.

He is learning both the piano and drums (talk about needing to coordinate independent movements!), and he gets it.

He’s beyond me…and I love it.

Hearing him play makes my heart smile. It’s like he knows a language that I never will, and though I wish I did know it, the fact that he does…well, it’s just beautiful. A wonderful, infinite world is open to him, and it brings me great joy.

Seeing my child surpass me in something is really what it’s all about. It is just the first of many aspects of life that he will transcend my abilities and excel as the person he is—someone who is blessed by God to have an array of gifts and talents all his own. Seeing that blossom for anyone is fascinating, but when it’s my own kid, it’s enthralling.

Though right now he is still every bit a ten-year-old boy who giggles at farts and drives me crazy with his lack of focus, when I hear him play, I know that there is so much more in store for him.

One day…I will no longer need to remind him to wipe the peanut butter off of his face.

Lord willing, I will be around to look back and recall this time with great fondness—much the way I do now when I think about his first steps or his chubby baby cheeks. I need to cherish it all because I can see that time is marching on with determination.

Some days it’s harder for me than others to remember to embrace the joys of the age while striving to equip for the future, but I am grateful for it all.

What a wonderful journey I get to be a part of. I need to keep that in mind when the crumbs are flying, the homework assignment is missing, and I am telling him for the 17th time to get into the shower.

Maybe I should just make him play a song for me. That might just do the trick.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

PS–Our world would be so incomplete and sad without the beauty of the arts to enrich our lives and help us to express ourselves in ways that science alone cannot. We need to fight for all kids to learn, experience, and grow in the arts. Please support art programs in public schools!

PPS–This is the 100th post of The Juggle Struggle. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey! Whether you are a first time reader or a long-time subscriber or follower, I greatly appreciate your taking some of your precious time to read my words…it means the world to me. And I hope you find it worth sticking around for more!

The “Yo” Man

April 21, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

I’m never enough. Each day passes and I feel I have not been enough in any aspect of my life. I could have done more as mother, wife, friend, daughter, sister, worker, writer…even pet owner.

Even though my days are consumed with doing, I feel like I should have done more. The “shoulds” are never-ending.

I’m thinking you might be nodding your head in understanding.

Life can be overwhelming—some days more so than others. But it is during those overwhelming times that I try hard to step outside myself and remember that just a little can go a long way.

Moments count. They matter. In fact, they are often what matter most.

When I remember my dad, lots of memories swirl in my head, but there are these little things that come to mind and mean so much more than one might take at face value.

My dad was the “yo” man. This was a greeting that he used…and one that I still use to this day. It was just a part of who he was. But my fondest memory of his use of this word was a little something that he did that my sister and I found hilarious.

We would be in the car driving with the windows down and my dad would call out “Yo!” to some unsuspecting person walking down the street, and then we would all look innocent like we didn’t say anything. The person would look all around like “who’s calling me?!” and we would just look straight ahead. Oh, my, that sent us into major giggle fits. It was silly. And small. And something that is a loving memory of the goofball that my dad could be.

Maybe we were on our way to run errands that might have taken up a great deal of our day—but it was the “yo” man that stuck with me. Not the errands.

Joy in the twinkling of a moment.

We often put a lot of pressure on ourselves to carve out experiences for our kids that are momentous in a big way…when it’s often the little ways that stick around.

A few years ago we were fortunate enough to travel with some friends to Florida and go to Walt Disney World. It was a great trip and we made lots of wonderful memories, but recently when my son wrote a story about it for school, the thing that was his most powerful memory was his finding a frog, picking it up, and learning that it was petrified dead.

The Magic Kingdom? Oh, yes…we had a blast. Beach and pool time? You bet. And while he remembers all of that with a smile, his face lights up when he talks about that damn frog.

And while the “big trips” of life should happen for sure, they simply can’t be a measure of our success in how we care and provide for our loved ones.

As a mom, sometimes it’s taking twenty minutes to shoot a game of Horse in the driveway, or snuggling during a Full House rerun, or even making lunch together. As a wife, sometimes it’s making sure to carve out a few minutes of real “face time” or watching our favorite TV show late at night after the rest of the world has gone to bed. As a friend, sometimes it’s texting a simple “how you?” to let them know you are thinking about them at whatever hour of the day.

That’s what I need to remember when I am in the swirl of a day that is getting away from me. A day where nothing is working the way it should. A day where my ToDo list seems to grow like the plant in “Little Shop of Horrors.” A day where I look at the clock and realize I’m way behind schedule. A day where I feel I have let everyone down once again.

Stop.

And take a moment.

To be the “yo” woman I know I can be.

Just maybe she’s enough after all.

Remembering the “Brutal” in Being “Brutally Honest”

March 17, 2014March 14, 2025 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

I am a huge fan of honesty. If there was an honesty fan club, I think I might even run for vice president (president would be too much work—I’m just setting my hypothetical goals realistically). I’ve noticed several people lately, though, speak of themselves as being “brutally honest.”

I’m not such a fan of that.

It seems to me to be an attempt to cloak rudeness and a lack of compassion as a virtue that isn’t merited.

I can’t believe I’m about to incorporate the TV show “The Bachelor” into one of my posts, but…here I go. Recently the reality TV world was caught by storm by the charismatic Juan Pablo. He was supposed to be this great catch—a loving single father with a great body and a suave personality.

And a whole lot of heart, right?

Wrong.

At least not the way I saw it. Time after time, he would say things that ranged from not nice to flat out offensive and couch it as honesty. “I’m just being honest…” was a frequent phrase that slipped out of his mouth after words that were, if not hurtful, certainly not a feel-good.

I think I might feel less frustration with Juan Pablo’s attitude if he could take what he dished out, but it certainly didn’t come off that way. When two of the women had critical things to say of him, he either ignored their comments or said his other catch phrase of “It’s okay…” and then, when they were out of earshot, made a cutting remark about each of them. Don’t use a shield of “honesty” if it only works one way. (I say this aware of the way reality TV can craft a story through editing. Perhaps JP had moments that we didn’t see that showed him in a kinder light, but seeing him speak live, I think giving this benefit of the doubt is a reach.)

Saying whatever you want without a filter and then chalking it up to honesty isn’t okay.

And, conversely, NOT saying whatever you want without a filter doesn’t equal dishonesty. We get that, right?

This doesn’t mean that one should not speak the truth in love, but we need to remember the “in love” part, don’t you think?

In this era of amazingly hurtful and hateful comments on the Internet, I am worried that we are touting brutal honesty as a positive when all it really is is…brutal.

I see this in “real” life, too. Over the weekend, an acquaintance of mine—a really nice guy—turned and said to a young woman, “You have lipstick on! It looks good.” She beamed, and then he continued, “You know, your lips are too thin.” She immediately looked down and agreed with him, tried to explain what she does to overcome it, and then walked away.

He saw the WTF? look on my face and said, “I can’t help it—I’m just honest.” I then proceeded to try and get him to see that while it’s lovely he gives compliments so freely, he doesn’t need to give criticisms in the same manner. I’m not convinced it registered with him.

We have enough negatives in this world without people feeling compelled to be “brutally honest” and thinking it’s an admirable trait—particularly when it is unsolicited.

Honesty is critically important, for sure, but it doesn’t mean we can then thoughtlessly eschew compassion or courtesy in the name of truth (or, more accurately, the truth as we see it).

We absolutely need honesty–but we need to remember that that does not mean saying whatever we feel like whenever we want to.

Imagine a world where everyone said whatever they wanted no matter who they might hurt or offend—oh, wait—I already mentioned the world of Internet commenting. I don’t know about you, but I rarely let myself read comments on the Net because it hurts my heart that people think it’s okay to treat one another like that.

It is not okay.

And I don’t for the life of me understand why some people think it IS okay. Maybe I’m just too sensitive, but if that’s the case, I’d rather be too sensitive than a jerkwad.

Saying whatever you want does not equal the truth–it equals you saying whatever you want.

All we need to do is think about our own lives and what words help and what words hurt…and then work to offer the helping ones instead of the hurting ones. This is not to say that we should only say words of feel-good fluff and lightness, but rather to think before we speak. Is it a criticism that is asked for? Does it really need to be said? Will it cause someone hurt? Is it anything that the person can change? Does it have a shot at making things better? Worse?

I think back to what a different impact the “lip” conversation would have had without the unsolicited criticism attached to it. Instead of the girl walking away with shoulders slumped, feeling bad about something she has no control over, she would have kept that smile going a lot longer.

Granted, it’s not our responsibility to fill everyone’s esteem tank, but it sure makes the world a more beautiful place when we choose to do so, and we remember that the choice to be brutally honest is often just another way of being brutal to one another.

We can be so much better than that.

I Should Have Asked for a Horse

March 3, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 7 Comments

Though I don’t get sick a whole lot these days, I definitely did as a kid. The kind of sick where I would have to miss a week or two of school. It wasn’t very fun at all.

Thankfully, with the help of immunity boosters, I eventually grew out of it, and by my sophomore year of high school was ecstatic that I received my first perfect attendance certificate. My friends thought I was nuts to be happy about that, but I knew how wonderful it was to have that many days of health in a row.

But let’s get to the hamsters.

During one of my bouts of illness when I was about seven or eight, I needed to go to the emergency room because I wasn’t doing very well. While lying on the hospital bed, I watched my mom and dad talking to the doctor, and when my dad looked over at me, my little arm went up and a weak little finger wagged him over.

“What is it, Honey?” he asked. And in what must have been an awfully endearing yet pathetic moment, I mustered the energy to whisper, “Dad…can I please have a hamster?”

“Baby, you can have anything you want…” and he kissed my forehead and went back to the doctor. Though I was happy to have gotten the “yes” I wanted, I thought to myself, “Anything? Shoot, I should have asked for a horse!”

But it was the hamster I had asked for, and my dad kept his word.

Once well, we went to the pet store and picked out two hamsters—one for me, and one for my older sister.

They were just adorable—and so cute in their little Habitrail home and bubble ball to roam in.

But then the bloodshed came.

My sister’s hamster killed mine one day while I was at school. My mom took the remaining one back to the pet store and announced “I have a murderer in my car.” The clerk said he would take that one home and care for it while he replaced both hamsters for us.

We were back in business.

(Let me just make a side note and say that this wasn’t the first time my sister’s pet kicked the crap out of my pet. Before our hamster days, we had two dogs that “went to the farm” because her dog wouldn’t stop attacking mine. Hmmm. But that’s for another day.)

Back to the hamsters.

Our two new ones were off to a great start—until the male ate the brand new babies one morning. That was absolutely awful to find their chewed up little pink carcasses in the corner.

Who knew there was so much to learn about these little furballs?

After that episode, we read up on what to do when the female gives birth and then they had a successful litter. It was hard finding good homes for all of the hamsters when the time came, but it was a good lesson, too.

I guess you could call this the blissful period of our hamster days.

As time went on, the male died, and we only had Tinker, the mama, remaining with us. All was well, until one day when she just wasn’t moving. She appeared to be dead.

My dad felt awful as he realized that he had used an oil-based paint nearby where her Habitrail was, and that the fumes had probably killed her.

With great solemnity, he wrapped her in newspaper, placed her in the garbage, and told me about it. (Had I been the one to discover her, I would have fought for a proper burial!)

Late that night, my mom was reading the hamster book when she read that hamsters sometimes go into hibernation.

Though it was the middle of July, my mother and father dug the hamster out of the garbage, started a fire in the fireplace and placed her stiff little body near it to warm her and bring her back to life.

And they waited.

And waited.

Let’s just say little Tinker was in permanent hibernation.

This concluded the hamster chapter of our lives.

Yep, I should have asked for the horse.

Though the housing would have required much more than a Habitrail, I’m pretty sure that these other horrific occurrences would have been avoided, and I would have been riding free through the meadows of life.

Well…a girl can dream, can’t she?

Beautifully Broken

February 24, 2014April 29, 2016 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 18 Comments

There is a movement afoot, and it is a vital one. It seems to me that we are finally accepting that the world is full of broken people, and it’s time we stopped pretending like we aren’t.

The reality that most (if not all) of us are stumbling along the path of life is nothing new, for sure, but I feel like the acknowledgement and embracing of it is new. Continue reading “Beautifully Broken” →

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: