Do you ever get the unsettling feeling that things might be going too well? Like the precarious joy you experience might crumble? Like one resounding crack in your universe could shatter the comfort and ease of your normal everyday life? I do.
And I dont consider myself to be a negative person. A worrier maybe, but not a Debbie Downer. More so than ever lately though, I catch myself holding my breath, so to speak. Fearful in my heart, and over what? Im not even sure. I catch myself wondering, will it be a phonecall? A test result read to me in some stale white doctors office? An accident? An illness? What will be the thing that splits my life in two?- Before and After.
Whatever level of this feeling I've experienced in the past, is only multiplied by about a thousand now that I have two small children. If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is the thought of them suffering. The tears shed that cannot be prevented, the scraped knees, the hurt feelings- these things hurt a mothers heart, yes, but they dont break it. Its the really tough stuff Im talking about. The pediatric cancer, the parents who die with young children left behind, or even worse, the young children who die- the tragedies that are dreadful beyond what it seems a soul can withstand. These are the things that grip my heart with fear. Its like once you have kids, your heart no longer resides within your chest, but its been ripped out and is now running around in this small little person, forever linked with them, and out of your own control.
This all sounds very gloomy and very dramatic, I know. Which is not usually my style, but its been a real and genuine struggle for me lately. To not be governed by fear.
Its interesting, actually. I started writing this blog entry a week ago, and left off two paragraphs into it, and went about my busy week, intending to finish it later, after I'd sorted out the rest of my thoughts. This morning through a series of random events, I met a woman and was so impacted by her that I cannot shake the emotions that have lingered after she left. I have teared up at least 17 times today just thinking of her. She had come over to buy the xbox my husband had listed on craigslist. She showed up looking very fragile and very... determined.We started chatting, and she started to tell me her story a bit- how she was buying this xbox for her son- how it was the only thing he wanted for christmas and he was convinced Santa would bring it to him and how this had her worrying as to how she could afford to work that one out. She had been spending all she had on chemo and treatment. She has cancer. Terminal cancer. Her kids are only 11 and 7 years old. This is literally her last christmas with her kids. She shared with me her inital shock, her months spent in chemo and fighting the disease, and how she was done with all treatments now, and time was running out. She said she was thankful for the extra time the chemo had bought her. She smiled and was upbeat about how she couldnt believe the timing and luck (she saw our ad minutes after we posted it, just checking one last time on a whim to see if she could find what she was looking for before she left town this morning, it was the exact one she hoped to find, she was pretty sure this was the last year her son would really believe in Santa, etc etc). I had never met this woman before in my life and my heart was wrenching for her. She stood in my entryway and we talked for quite a while. I cried. She cried. She mentioned how it seemed meant to be that we'd have this conversation, and that it was funny how God works. Indeed.
This woman had experienced that crack in her universe. The crack that makes all the noise and hubbub of normal life fade to a deafening silence. She told me that she had hope- she had to, she said. I am staggered by the hearts ability to hope. When all the waves and breakers of life have swept over me, hope is an anchor. Hebrews 6:18 "...lay hold of the hope set before us. this hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast..." Romans 5:3-5" ...We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perserverance; and perserverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts..."
So that's where it gets real for me. There is hope that fails, and there is hope that 'does not disappoint.' If I hope only for a comfortable, happy, easy, tragedy-free life, I very well may be let down eventually. If I put my hope in God, to be that anchor for my soul when I am overwhelmed then I will not be disappointed. Life does not come free of hardships. Or heartbreaks. Or even tragedies. It just doesnt. But I have a hope that is real.
Coincidentally enough, a few days ago, this was the snippet of my daily reading: "I will never leave you alone in the midst of any affliction. You can not escape the crisis experiences if you desire to grow and mature, but you need never fear them regardless of the form they take, for my grace and my equanimity shall be as a strong anchor that shall hold you fast, and you shall not be driven off course." Hah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Inappropriate? LOL. But seriously. So randomly perfect that it is not random at all.
I realize that walking through life like its a mine field, gripped with fear, is not the best way to go about it. Nor is it wise for me to hope only for an 'easy' life. So I'll quit holding my breath, exhale, and do my best to fall somewhere in the middle. Being thankful for today, and letting tomorrow worry about itself.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
These Are a Few of My Favorite Things....
Great, I will have that darn song stuck in my head all day long now...
At the risk of being a little narcisstic in thinking that anyone gives a hoot about my list of favorite things, I went ahead and made one anyway. If Oprah can have a list of Favorite Things, then why shouldnt I? Haha!- not that I would lump myself in with Oprah. For a number of reasons.
Seeing as how this blog is, I assume, more for my own personal benefit than anyone else's, and seeing as how lists ARE one of my favorite things, I thought it fitting to make one. Officially.
The following items are in no particular order of rank or importance. Rather, it is just the order in which they occurred to me. Also, I should clarify that it is not an all inclusive list. Just "a few"!
1) MY MORNING COFFEE. This is old news. But Folgers in my cup really might be the best part of waking up. Even better is morning coffee with my best girlfreinds or mom/sister. We dont do it often enough, but it is always good fun.
2) A GOOD LAUGH. There are very few character traits I esteem higher than a good sense of humor. Surely there are a few, but not many. I am a person who laughs a lot, and who can find the humor in almost any situation. So a good hearty/ throw-your-head-back-and-bellow kind of a laugh is my one of my most favorite things. Not to be outdone by a chuckling/ does-anyone-else-think-this-is-funny?-kind of a laugh, or a laughing-so-hard-my-cheeks-and-stomach-hurt-kind of a laugh.
3) FEELING CUTE EVEN WHEN ITS COLD. Which, by the way, is sometimes hard to do when bulky layers win out over fashion sensability. I love a good hoodie. It feels great. It rarely looks great (at least on me). And while hoodies will always have a time and a place in my closet, this season a few of my favorite wardrobe 'things' are as follows (in any combination): Boots. Skirts with opaque tights. Scarves. Belts (I feel naked without a belt) My black 'leather' jacket. Dont laugh. It makes me feel cooler than I really am. Cardigans. Heels. I could do a whole blog as an ode to my shelf of rarely used, pretty heels. But I wont- that's obnoxious. And always and forever, my absolute favorite clothing item will be, a good pair of jeans. And hey, I might even get wild and try a pair of ankle boots. Nah, who am I kidding? I cant pull that off. Not with these ankles.
3) A JOLLY HOME. As much as I secretly hate doing the work of digging out christmas decorations, taking down usual decor and replacing it with the festive stuff- and then putting it all back a month later, I do love and enjoy the cozy feel of the tree, the decorations, the apple cinnamon candles, etc. Possibly the only thing I love more than a clean house is a clean and jolly house.
4) THE OTHER AMBER. I feel a little guilty for having singled out one person to put on my list of favorite things because there are many more. My mom, my sister, my cousin, my 'poopie', my husband, my closest girlfriends- I could keep going but y'all know who you are. And yes I recognize that this is cheating a little bit because these are people and not things, but its my list! So I feel it is worthy of mention because for as long as I can remember (25 years to be exact) I have identified as one half of "The Ambers". Was it fate? God's plan? Silly coincidence? I dont know and I dont care, but I just love her for a million and one reasons. I shall list a few: 1) We share the same name. Its fitting, its convenient (seeing as how we've often come as a package deal), its maybe even a bit kitschy, but its fun! 2) There is never any drama. Ever. This is extremely rare among women and I absolutely do not take it for granted. 3) She knows me well enough to often be a foregone conclusion. I find this to be comforting and easy, rather than annoying. 4) She loves my kids as much as I love hers. And now our daughters are the age that we were when we met and became dearest of chums. We might have to force the legacy onto them, although I have a feeling we wont need to. 5) She thinks Im funny. This seems like a wildly selfish and ridiculous reason, but you know what? It makes for a good time! And inconsequentially, I find her to be funny as well.
5) COOKING A GOOD MEAL. Over the years I have come to love cooking more and more. Every important thing I know about cooking I learned from my mother and my sister. Or Giada de Laurentiis. I also love to watch cooking shows, particularly Barefoot Contessa or Nigella Lawson. They are brilliant, classy ladies who make preparing food look and feel like its almost an art. When I first got married I barely knew the basics, and thus fell into the timid trap of throwing out some kind of disclaimer before one bite was ever taken of any meal I had cooked. Which Im pretty sure most people just find irritating. Since then I've come a long way, but still feel like I have only scratched the surface. Every now and again my sister, who teaches cooking classes (and will always put me to shame in the kitchen), will throw out some term nonchalantly, and I just nod my head pretending to know what she's talking about. Until we both start laughing because, as I've said before, Im almost completely incapable of hiding anything.
6) SNEAKING KISSES. This one has two parts: Initially, I was referring to my insatiable need to kiss my childrens freshly shampooed heads after they've gone to sleep at night. But there is also something sweet about stolen kisses between my husband and I. Granted, its usually the quick, walking out the door or passing in the hallway variety. But even if its just that, its still a reminder that we love each other. We used to spend leisurely weekends together filled with movie dates and dinners out, now we spend leisurely weekends together as a family, filled with chicken nuggets flying through the air and saturday morning cartoons. Romance changes with the phases of life, but as long as you never lose it altogether, I think its okay if it looks a little different than it used to.
7) SPOUSAL WARS. I dont mean real fights. I mean the practical joke 'wars' that my husband I get into when we are feeling feisty. They can go on for days or weeks at a time and I usually end up losing in the end. I splash him with my toothbrush water and then sit smuggly on the toilet, only to be doused with water 5 seconds later. He will 'pants' me when Im trying to get dressed. Then there's the classic stealing of the pillows when the other one gets up to shut off lights at night or use the restroom. There is usually water fights and wrestling involved (at which I am useless), and as I said, I might win a few battles, but ultimately I lose the war. I make a big fuss and like to feign total exasperation but secretly I think all the banter is fun. With one exception: every single night he lets me get into bed first, then he turns off the light, takes off his socks, rolls them into a tight ball, and throws them at me. Real charming. It was funny for about 2 months. Now I really do just hate it.
Im going to leave it at 7 favorite things for today. Gotta stop somewhere. If you had a list of favorite things, what would it look like I wonder?
At the risk of being a little narcisstic in thinking that anyone gives a hoot about my list of favorite things, I went ahead and made one anyway. If Oprah can have a list of Favorite Things, then why shouldnt I? Haha!- not that I would lump myself in with Oprah. For a number of reasons.
Seeing as how this blog is, I assume, more for my own personal benefit than anyone else's, and seeing as how lists ARE one of my favorite things, I thought it fitting to make one. Officially.
The following items are in no particular order of rank or importance. Rather, it is just the order in which they occurred to me. Also, I should clarify that it is not an all inclusive list. Just "a few"!
1) MY MORNING COFFEE. This is old news. But Folgers in my cup really might be the best part of waking up. Even better is morning coffee with my best girlfreinds or mom/sister. We dont do it often enough, but it is always good fun.
2) A GOOD LAUGH. There are very few character traits I esteem higher than a good sense of humor. Surely there are a few, but not many. I am a person who laughs a lot, and who can find the humor in almost any situation. So a good hearty/ throw-your-head-back-and-bellow kind of a laugh is my one of my most favorite things. Not to be outdone by a chuckling/ does-anyone-else-think-this-is-funny?-kind of a laugh, or a laughing-so-hard-my-cheeks-and-stomach-hurt-kind of a laugh.
3) FEELING CUTE EVEN WHEN ITS COLD. Which, by the way, is sometimes hard to do when bulky layers win out over fashion sensability. I love a good hoodie. It feels great. It rarely looks great (at least on me). And while hoodies will always have a time and a place in my closet, this season a few of my favorite wardrobe 'things' are as follows (in any combination): Boots. Skirts with opaque tights. Scarves. Belts (I feel naked without a belt) My black 'leather' jacket. Dont laugh. It makes me feel cooler than I really am. Cardigans. Heels. I could do a whole blog as an ode to my shelf of rarely used, pretty heels. But I wont- that's obnoxious. And always and forever, my absolute favorite clothing item will be, a good pair of jeans. And hey, I might even get wild and try a pair of ankle boots. Nah, who am I kidding? I cant pull that off. Not with these ankles.
3) A JOLLY HOME. As much as I secretly hate doing the work of digging out christmas decorations, taking down usual decor and replacing it with the festive stuff- and then putting it all back a month later, I do love and enjoy the cozy feel of the tree, the decorations, the apple cinnamon candles, etc. Possibly the only thing I love more than a clean house is a clean and jolly house.
4) THE OTHER AMBER. I feel a little guilty for having singled out one person to put on my list of favorite things because there are many more. My mom, my sister, my cousin, my 'poopie', my husband, my closest girlfriends- I could keep going but y'all know who you are. And yes I recognize that this is cheating a little bit because these are people and not things, but its my list! So I feel it is worthy of mention because for as long as I can remember (25 years to be exact) I have identified as one half of "The Ambers". Was it fate? God's plan? Silly coincidence? I dont know and I dont care, but I just love her for a million and one reasons. I shall list a few: 1) We share the same name. Its fitting, its convenient (seeing as how we've often come as a package deal), its maybe even a bit kitschy, but its fun! 2) There is never any drama. Ever. This is extremely rare among women and I absolutely do not take it for granted. 3) She knows me well enough to often be a foregone conclusion. I find this to be comforting and easy, rather than annoying. 4) She loves my kids as much as I love hers. And now our daughters are the age that we were when we met and became dearest of chums. We might have to force the legacy onto them, although I have a feeling we wont need to. 5) She thinks Im funny. This seems like a wildly selfish and ridiculous reason, but you know what? It makes for a good time! And inconsequentially, I find her to be funny as well.
5) COOKING A GOOD MEAL. Over the years I have come to love cooking more and more. Every important thing I know about cooking I learned from my mother and my sister. Or Giada de Laurentiis. I also love to watch cooking shows, particularly Barefoot Contessa or Nigella Lawson. They are brilliant, classy ladies who make preparing food look and feel like its almost an art. When I first got married I barely knew the basics, and thus fell into the timid trap of throwing out some kind of disclaimer before one bite was ever taken of any meal I had cooked. Which Im pretty sure most people just find irritating. Since then I've come a long way, but still feel like I have only scratched the surface. Every now and again my sister, who teaches cooking classes (and will always put me to shame in the kitchen), will throw out some term nonchalantly, and I just nod my head pretending to know what she's talking about. Until we both start laughing because, as I've said before, Im almost completely incapable of hiding anything.
6) SNEAKING KISSES. This one has two parts: Initially, I was referring to my insatiable need to kiss my childrens freshly shampooed heads after they've gone to sleep at night. But there is also something sweet about stolen kisses between my husband and I. Granted, its usually the quick, walking out the door or passing in the hallway variety. But even if its just that, its still a reminder that we love each other. We used to spend leisurely weekends together filled with movie dates and dinners out, now we spend leisurely weekends together as a family, filled with chicken nuggets flying through the air and saturday morning cartoons. Romance changes with the phases of life, but as long as you never lose it altogether, I think its okay if it looks a little different than it used to.
7) SPOUSAL WARS. I dont mean real fights. I mean the practical joke 'wars' that my husband I get into when we are feeling feisty. They can go on for days or weeks at a time and I usually end up losing in the end. I splash him with my toothbrush water and then sit smuggly on the toilet, only to be doused with water 5 seconds later. He will 'pants' me when Im trying to get dressed. Then there's the classic stealing of the pillows when the other one gets up to shut off lights at night or use the restroom. There is usually water fights and wrestling involved (at which I am useless), and as I said, I might win a few battles, but ultimately I lose the war. I make a big fuss and like to feign total exasperation but secretly I think all the banter is fun. With one exception: every single night he lets me get into bed first, then he turns off the light, takes off his socks, rolls them into a tight ball, and throws them at me. Real charming. It was funny for about 2 months. Now I really do just hate it.
Im going to leave it at 7 favorite things for today. Gotta stop somewhere. If you had a list of favorite things, what would it look like I wonder?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Mojo
Tomorrow night I am re-starting P90X. I am filled with equal parts excitement and dread. Goodbye lovely evenings spent cozying up next to my husband, reading books, watching tv, ushering in the only relaxing part of my day with glee (the emotion, not the show)(I do sometimes watch though). And its Hello again yoga pants, red sweaty face, and nearly throwing up in my own mouth from exertion. Haha, come to think of it, of course it would be my own mouth. Anyone else's mouth would just be unconscionable.
I have taken a small sabbatical from my workout regime due to sickness, and then extended it due to self indulgence. And I have enjoyed it thoroughly. Ah, but its time to shake off the dust. You see, Im in the danger zone. That vortex of a place where I am ALMOST where I want my body to be, but not quite there. Close enough to taste, but also far enough away from the wretchedness I felt after gaining 50 lbs, having a C-section and getting completely demoralized by the body I inherited after giving birth to our second child. Far enough away to get comfortable and forget how much I hated the way I felt. And to all of you out there who will say to me "But dont you feel strong? Dont you think you should wear the stretch marks/soft edges/ what-have-you, as a badge of honor and be proud and blah blah blah"....to all of you I say, Yes, and No. Yes I am surprised/proud of what my body is capable of doing. It has carried, protected, delivered, and nourished two children. Is that a feat? Heck yah it is! Am I pleased with the physical aftermath? No way. Do I accept it as part of the deal? Yes. Would I trade my kids for the lithe, speedily metabolized body I used to call my own? Of course not. Do I still want to complete the process of getting myself back?! YES!
I dont know about the rest of the women in the world, but for me, I know its definitely a process. I was not one of those basketball-under-the-shirt looking pregnant women, that I thought for sure I would be. I always do great until about the 7th month. I dont gain much weight, I feel all glowy and jolly and think Im going to skate by unscathed to the very end. And then it happens. I explode. It happens so fast it boggles the mind. I wound up gaining between 40-50 lbs with both pregnancies and the bulk of it happened in the last 3 months.Yikes. But Im getting bogged down in the details. You dont care about the details. The point is, I have realized that I personally, tend to lose myself a tiny bit somewhere along the way with having babies. Colicky babies. And its a process to get myself back. Physically, mentally, all of the above. I got through the 6 months of colic hell. Then, when the clouds parted, and I quit functioning in survival mode, I found the drive to lose the 50 lbs of baby weight. Now, its been a whole year, and I want to do myself a solid and just finish it already. I want to be fit, and not just thin.
I think I have a healthy, realistic grasp on the whole thing and I dont have crazy goals. I know I cant eat whatever in the world I want and not work out, like I could ten years ago, and still be thrilled with the outcome. Its like every other area of life- YOU'VE GOTTA DO THE WORK! Physically, spiritually, relationally, (is that a word?)...you cant just quit putting forth the effort and then turn around and expect to be thrilled with the results. Dont be shocked when whatever it is, isnt thriving.
SO, I am going to shake the dust off my workout shoes, Im going overlook the cheeseball factor of Tony whatever-his-last-name's insistance that I always "bring it" in the workout dvd's, and Im going to rally my husband's joint effort as we make working out a regular part of life once again.
As I said, I am filled with equal parts excitment and dread regarding this. Dread, because I know how hard and grueling the workouts are. And I am not exactly Sporty Spice, so this does not appeal to me. Excitement, because I know it works. And because, I know it sounds wierd, but I actually feel sexy when I work out. Im slightly embarrassed for having used that word, and I hope its not inappropriate, but I sat for 5 minutes trying to think of an alternative and could not. I am fully convinced I do not LOOK sexy working out, so it has nothing to do with vanity. Not by a long shot. But there is something about putting a great song on your itunes, shutting everything else out, and just going for it. Pushing yourself, and working your hardest. It does something for your mojo. Just sayin!
So wish me luck!
I have taken a small sabbatical from my workout regime due to sickness, and then extended it due to self indulgence. And I have enjoyed it thoroughly. Ah, but its time to shake off the dust. You see, Im in the danger zone. That vortex of a place where I am ALMOST where I want my body to be, but not quite there. Close enough to taste, but also far enough away from the wretchedness I felt after gaining 50 lbs, having a C-section and getting completely demoralized by the body I inherited after giving birth to our second child. Far enough away to get comfortable and forget how much I hated the way I felt. And to all of you out there who will say to me "But dont you feel strong? Dont you think you should wear the stretch marks/soft edges/ what-have-you, as a badge of honor and be proud and blah blah blah"....to all of you I say, Yes, and No. Yes I am surprised/proud of what my body is capable of doing. It has carried, protected, delivered, and nourished two children. Is that a feat? Heck yah it is! Am I pleased with the physical aftermath? No way. Do I accept it as part of the deal? Yes. Would I trade my kids for the lithe, speedily metabolized body I used to call my own? Of course not. Do I still want to complete the process of getting myself back?! YES!
I dont know about the rest of the women in the world, but for me, I know its definitely a process. I was not one of those basketball-under-the-shirt looking pregnant women, that I thought for sure I would be. I always do great until about the 7th month. I dont gain much weight, I feel all glowy and jolly and think Im going to skate by unscathed to the very end. And then it happens. I explode. It happens so fast it boggles the mind. I wound up gaining between 40-50 lbs with both pregnancies and the bulk of it happened in the last 3 months.Yikes. But Im getting bogged down in the details. You dont care about the details. The point is, I have realized that I personally, tend to lose myself a tiny bit somewhere along the way with having babies. Colicky babies. And its a process to get myself back. Physically, mentally, all of the above. I got through the 6 months of colic hell. Then, when the clouds parted, and I quit functioning in survival mode, I found the drive to lose the 50 lbs of baby weight. Now, its been a whole year, and I want to do myself a solid and just finish it already. I want to be fit, and not just thin.
I think I have a healthy, realistic grasp on the whole thing and I dont have crazy goals. I know I cant eat whatever in the world I want and not work out, like I could ten years ago, and still be thrilled with the outcome. Its like every other area of life- YOU'VE GOTTA DO THE WORK! Physically, spiritually, relationally, (is that a word?)...you cant just quit putting forth the effort and then turn around and expect to be thrilled with the results. Dont be shocked when whatever it is, isnt thriving.
SO, I am going to shake the dust off my workout shoes, Im going overlook the cheeseball factor of Tony whatever-his-last-name's insistance that I always "bring it" in the workout dvd's, and Im going to rally my husband's joint effort as we make working out a regular part of life once again.
As I said, I am filled with equal parts excitment and dread regarding this. Dread, because I know how hard and grueling the workouts are. And I am not exactly Sporty Spice, so this does not appeal to me. Excitement, because I know it works. And because, I know it sounds wierd, but I actually feel sexy when I work out. Im slightly embarrassed for having used that word, and I hope its not inappropriate, but I sat for 5 minutes trying to think of an alternative and could not. I am fully convinced I do not LOOK sexy working out, so it has nothing to do with vanity. Not by a long shot. But there is something about putting a great song on your itunes, shutting everything else out, and just going for it. Pushing yourself, and working your hardest. It does something for your mojo. Just sayin!
So wish me luck!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
It's All Relative
What I really want to blog about is the ridiculously terrible 36 hours of travel my husband and I recently survived. (With two small children in tow!) But I won't. I am going to resist the urge to regurgitate a slew of unneccessary details and negative drivel that no one wants to hear. I can feel the word bile rising up in me this very second, but I will resist! Suffice it to say it was bad. Not quite the worst, as we all made it home safely. But whatever the slot is right under worst? That's where we landed. Maybe not number 1 in worst case scenarios, but number 1.5 with a bullet.
Oh looky there. I spent a whole paragraph NOT talking about it. (insert ironic tone of voice) THATS wierd.
But the whole experience got me thinking. How sometimes we think things are bad. We hiss and moan and throw a mini-fit about how annoying/unbelievable/unfair/exhausting/sad/unlucky/etc our situation seems. And if we dont verbally throw this mini-fit, you know its happening mentally, or at least under our breath. But whats funny, is that most of the time the things that send us into these tailspins are really nothing more than mere inconveniences. Okay, I'll stop saying "we" and "us". Im really talking about me. I guess its presumptuous to lump all of you in with me as having an admittedly rotten attitude at times.
At about hour 7 of our ill fated travels, a 'fit' would be an understatement describing the way some people were acting. Not my people, thank God. I can say, with some small measure of pride, that my whole family, 1yr old and 3yr old included kept their cool. No tantrums, fits, or nuclear meltdowns. There was some crying, Im not gonna lie. I AM gonna lie and say it wasnt me doing the crying. But it wasnt until the 14th hour of said ill fated travels (and it was partly because I thought we might all die. So sue me.)
But what sort of strikes me as funny, is that here people are, all strung out and up in arms and indignant about how outrageously bad the situation was, when in reality, it was only about to get worse. If we only knew! Im laughing out loud, typing this right now. Glad the whole debacle isnt too fresh to seem funny. Sometimes you gotta laugh, otherwise you'll cry, right?!
But I digress. Back to the point. ...?...Oh yes! My point IS that its really all relative. Troubles, that is. And arent troubles often just as fleeting as the good times anyways? I mean really- half of the time I waste my energy being anxious, upset or worried about something, its just that. Wasted energy. So my new litmus test for whether or not I should stress out is this: In two weeks from now, will it matter?
Will it matter that I have had one of those days that the odds just seem against me? Probably not. Will it matter that I was inconvenienced in some small way? Doubt it. Will I remember that my children were full of the dickens and made it very hard for me to control the volume of my voice? Haha, maybe. Okay fine, not likely. Will it be worth getting snippy with my spouse over? In two weeks from now, will it carry any weight at all? Does it even matter?
There is something about the holidays that tends to bring out the nasty in a lot of people, right? Something about it that makes them feel entitled to wave their Freak Flag. I have seen a 70yr old woman get physical with another woman over a shirt at a sample sale. 70 yrs old! And Im not exaggerating when I say "physical". I've felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the grocery store because the person behind me in the 12 Items or Less lane is putting out a slightly manic, urgent vibe - and visibly counting up my items to make sure Im not doing her and the rest of the world some great injustice by being having 13 things in my cart. Not to mention the usual customer service or sales person who gets cursed out for simply doing their job.
There really is something to be said for being easygoing. And there really is something to be said for perspective. We are safe. We are healthy. We are happy- on the level that it really counts anyway.
Oh looky there. I spent a whole paragraph NOT talking about it. (insert ironic tone of voice) THATS wierd.
But the whole experience got me thinking. How sometimes we think things are bad. We hiss and moan and throw a mini-fit about how annoying/unbelievable/unfair/exhausting/sad/unlucky/etc our situation seems. And if we dont verbally throw this mini-fit, you know its happening mentally, or at least under our breath. But whats funny, is that most of the time the things that send us into these tailspins are really nothing more than mere inconveniences. Okay, I'll stop saying "we" and "us". Im really talking about me. I guess its presumptuous to lump all of you in with me as having an admittedly rotten attitude at times.
At about hour 7 of our ill fated travels, a 'fit' would be an understatement describing the way some people were acting. Not my people, thank God. I can say, with some small measure of pride, that my whole family, 1yr old and 3yr old included kept their cool. No tantrums, fits, or nuclear meltdowns. There was some crying, Im not gonna lie. I AM gonna lie and say it wasnt me doing the crying. But it wasnt until the 14th hour of said ill fated travels (and it was partly because I thought we might all die. So sue me.)
But what sort of strikes me as funny, is that here people are, all strung out and up in arms and indignant about how outrageously bad the situation was, when in reality, it was only about to get worse. If we only knew! Im laughing out loud, typing this right now. Glad the whole debacle isnt too fresh to seem funny. Sometimes you gotta laugh, otherwise you'll cry, right?!
But I digress. Back to the point. ...?...Oh yes! My point IS that its really all relative. Troubles, that is. And arent troubles often just as fleeting as the good times anyways? I mean really- half of the time I waste my energy being anxious, upset or worried about something, its just that. Wasted energy. So my new litmus test for whether or not I should stress out is this: In two weeks from now, will it matter?
Will it matter that I have had one of those days that the odds just seem against me? Probably not. Will it matter that I was inconvenienced in some small way? Doubt it. Will I remember that my children were full of the dickens and made it very hard for me to control the volume of my voice? Haha, maybe. Okay fine, not likely. Will it be worth getting snippy with my spouse over? In two weeks from now, will it carry any weight at all? Does it even matter?
There is something about the holidays that tends to bring out the nasty in a lot of people, right? Something about it that makes them feel entitled to wave their Freak Flag. I have seen a 70yr old woman get physical with another woman over a shirt at a sample sale. 70 yrs old! And Im not exaggerating when I say "physical". I've felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the grocery store because the person behind me in the 12 Items or Less lane is putting out a slightly manic, urgent vibe - and visibly counting up my items to make sure Im not doing her and the rest of the world some great injustice by being having 13 things in my cart. Not to mention the usual customer service or sales person who gets cursed out for simply doing their job.
There really is something to be said for being easygoing. And there really is something to be said for perspective. We are safe. We are healthy. We are happy- on the level that it really counts anyway.
I have always refused to make New Year's resolutions. I dont do it. But I am making it a December Personal Goal, that if I must err, to err on the side of graciousness. I dont exactly believe in karma, but I also dont believe in being a big fat jerk. Happy Holidays everyone!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Great Expectations
No. Expectations are the devil! ...Well, ok, I retract that statement. Its a blanket statement, and those are almost never a good idea. Overly high or unfair expectations are the devil.
In retrospect, it all starts with me. Overthinking things. As usual. dont you just hate 'retrospect'? The way it lays things out so clearly, almost taunting you with its obviousness? Its a double edged sword, retrospect. The way it can (much to your own chagrin) cut so clearly to the heart of a matter when you choose to look honestly into it. The way it can make you feel so utterly silly sometimes. But at the same token, it serves an invaluable purpose. You live, you learn, as they say.
It is at best unwise, and at worst dangerous ground, when you let expectations dictate your actions. In marriage, in work, in freindships, in nearly anything. "I'll do this for you, if (or because) you do that for me." "I'll work hard at this, only because it might get me that." "I expect you to be A, B, and C to me, and if you aren't, you are letting me down. You are the bad guy". Dangerous lines of thinking!
Obviously, expectations on some level are healthy and necessary elements of any relationship. Obviously. Im not saying 'lower your expectations, roll over and take whatever you can get and live with it". That's just sad.
I guess the thing Im pondering, is, well, selfishness. Inwardly, Im wincing. Im not loving what Im seeing. I confess (appearantly I have much to confess these days?), that I often let selfishness lay the groundwork for expectations, which in turn lays the groundwork for disappointment, resentment, or hurt.
Take date night, for example. Oh dear, I cannot believe I am going to expose myself like this, but whatever, here goes. My husband always tells me that I hold date nights with such a high regard, such a lofty expectation, that I darn near expect it to be some magical, mystical experience. Im chuckling as I write this, because he is totally right. I do. Its a recipe for disaster! How often, I wonder, has he walked unawares into a booby trap that I have unwittingly set?
At the movie: for 8 years, without fail, as the popcorn and hot dogs stop singing and dancing and the lights dim, I"ll lean over and say "make it a date" and he kisses me, thus commencing the "date". One, maybe two times he forgets or I forget and my stomach lurches as I realize with horror, 'what we've become'. LOL. So dramatic, right? We sit at dinner and eat our food and chit chat and instead of relaxing into what could be a lovely, comfortable silence, I let the inner monologue begin. "Oh my gosh. So eight years huh? Eight years is how long it takes? To be that couple that just sits across from each other at the restaraunt with nothing to say? With just dead air between us?!" Its silly, but oh, its real. I am expecting him to wow me with sparkling conversation, to make me feel twitterpated, to essentially do and say all the right things. How exhausting. How foolish. If I would only relax and forget about all my expectations of him and of the night. If I would silence my inner monologue and enjoy him, enjoly US for what we are- 2 people who know each other, who love each other, who fit together. If I would see it as it truly is, I'd save us both a lot of grief!
I never used to even think twice about these silly things. Its been a phase. And Im closing the book on it. Maybe its the change that comes with having kids. Maybe its all the million outside stresses of work and money and responsibility that creep in to our happy, intimate little bubble. Maybe that's why, when the rare date night, or the even more rare vacation together happens, I put so much pressure on these events to be something fantastical. (yes, Im sticking with the word fantastical).
Maybe its just growing pains. Ah, but growth is a good thing! So there you have it. The real truth, the crux of the matter, is that what we share is GOOD. Its familiar and comforting and easy. Its even still romantic and twitterpating. Maybe not on a daily basis or all the time, but its there when it needs to be there. Its right. Its enjoyable. Its a gift, even.
In my vows I promised "To always trust, To always forgive, To always cherish him as my most precious gift, and To always walk beside him- no matter what this life brings." So I will do just that. I will trust in what we share and in how far its come. I will appreciate the changes that have refined it. I will forgive when hurts or disappointments happen. I will be thankful for the gift of marriage. I will relax and enjoy it for what it is!
And as for unfair expectations, I must recognize them and shake them off. And focus more on being unselfish rather than selfish. Easy, right? LOL. I'll let ya know how the next date night goes. :)
In retrospect, it all starts with me. Overthinking things. As usual. dont you just hate 'retrospect'? The way it lays things out so clearly, almost taunting you with its obviousness? Its a double edged sword, retrospect. The way it can (much to your own chagrin) cut so clearly to the heart of a matter when you choose to look honestly into it. The way it can make you feel so utterly silly sometimes. But at the same token, it serves an invaluable purpose. You live, you learn, as they say.
It is at best unwise, and at worst dangerous ground, when you let expectations dictate your actions. In marriage, in work, in freindships, in nearly anything. "I'll do this for you, if (or because) you do that for me." "I'll work hard at this, only because it might get me that." "I expect you to be A, B, and C to me, and if you aren't, you are letting me down. You are the bad guy". Dangerous lines of thinking!
Obviously, expectations on some level are healthy and necessary elements of any relationship. Obviously. Im not saying 'lower your expectations, roll over and take whatever you can get and live with it". That's just sad.
I guess the thing Im pondering, is, well, selfishness. Inwardly, Im wincing. Im not loving what Im seeing. I confess (appearantly I have much to confess these days?), that I often let selfishness lay the groundwork for expectations, which in turn lays the groundwork for disappointment, resentment, or hurt.
Take date night, for example. Oh dear, I cannot believe I am going to expose myself like this, but whatever, here goes. My husband always tells me that I hold date nights with such a high regard, such a lofty expectation, that I darn near expect it to be some magical, mystical experience. Im chuckling as I write this, because he is totally right. I do. Its a recipe for disaster! How often, I wonder, has he walked unawares into a booby trap that I have unwittingly set?
At the movie: for 8 years, without fail, as the popcorn and hot dogs stop singing and dancing and the lights dim, I"ll lean over and say "make it a date" and he kisses me, thus commencing the "date". One, maybe two times he forgets or I forget and my stomach lurches as I realize with horror, 'what we've become'. LOL. So dramatic, right? We sit at dinner and eat our food and chit chat and instead of relaxing into what could be a lovely, comfortable silence, I let the inner monologue begin. "Oh my gosh. So eight years huh? Eight years is how long it takes? To be that couple that just sits across from each other at the restaraunt with nothing to say? With just dead air between us?!" Its silly, but oh, its real. I am expecting him to wow me with sparkling conversation, to make me feel twitterpated, to essentially do and say all the right things. How exhausting. How foolish. If I would only relax and forget about all my expectations of him and of the night. If I would silence my inner monologue and enjoy him, enjoly US for what we are- 2 people who know each other, who love each other, who fit together. If I would see it as it truly is, I'd save us both a lot of grief!
I never used to even think twice about these silly things. Its been a phase. And Im closing the book on it. Maybe its the change that comes with having kids. Maybe its all the million outside stresses of work and money and responsibility that creep in to our happy, intimate little bubble. Maybe that's why, when the rare date night, or the even more rare vacation together happens, I put so much pressure on these events to be something fantastical. (yes, Im sticking with the word fantastical).
Maybe its just growing pains. Ah, but growth is a good thing! So there you have it. The real truth, the crux of the matter, is that what we share is GOOD. Its familiar and comforting and easy. Its even still romantic and twitterpating. Maybe not on a daily basis or all the time, but its there when it needs to be there. Its right. Its enjoyable. Its a gift, even.
In my vows I promised "To always trust, To always forgive, To always cherish him as my most precious gift, and To always walk beside him- no matter what this life brings." So I will do just that. I will trust in what we share and in how far its come. I will appreciate the changes that have refined it. I will forgive when hurts or disappointments happen. I will be thankful for the gift of marriage. I will relax and enjoy it for what it is!
And as for unfair expectations, I must recognize them and shake them off. And focus more on being unselfish rather than selfish. Easy, right? LOL. I'll let ya know how the next date night goes. :)
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Afternoon Delight!
Im only referring to my cup of coffee, actually. But it is delightful. When did I become this person? This person who went from not even liking coffee at all, even when I was a barista- to liking it, to loving it, to needing it, to having it twice a day? In the morning I always choose coffee over food- always. Well, actually, I hate most breakfast foods anyways. Which is odd, for a person who loves food as much as I do (and I do).
Breakfast is the one meal that I really could just do without. Im not a sweets person and most breakfast foods are sweet. Yogurt. Blech. It tastes good going down, but then you're left with that filmy, milky, residue-y aftermath in your mouth. No thank you. And cereal. Dont even get me started on cereal. There are two main problems there: 1) Its cold. Im too tired to shovel something cold into my mouth early in the morning -if that makes any sense. A nice, hot, strong cup of coffee is much more my speed. And 2) its accompanied by milk. Which I dont love. There are precisely two instances in which I can gag down milk and they are when I drink it with oreos and when I drink it while eating peanut butter. But cereal is one of those foods that baffle me. People seem to just love it. Its the same with tea. People LOVE their tea. I dont care much for it. Its like dirty water. Non-juice. Its just different than I wish it was. But Im tempted to force myself into liking it, only because of the level of enjoyment people seem to get out of it. They hunch up their shoulders, wrap their hands around a warm mug of tea, and inhale it before sipping away like its a little slice of heaven. I seriously think Im missing the boat on this one.
I have one more bone to pick with breakfast foods and then I will be quiet. Why is it, that you can never go to a restaraunt, and order french toast along with all the other accoutrements, as one meal? Its always the french toast, all by itself, as its own meal. You can order pancakes with sausage, eggs, potatoes... Why are pancakes so special? They are essentially sweet, soggy, bread- and if there is one thing in the whole world that gets my gag reflex, it is soggy bread. (insert dry heave).
Well, I suppose there has to be a few things that I DONT like. Because lord knows I can scarcely pass up a bowl of pasta! Or any carb for that matter.
Maybe Im just a coffee-loving elitist. Maybe tea is simply an acquired taste and I just havent acquired it yet. I'll tackle that one after I tackle wine. Maybe soon I'll be a wine drinking, tea- loving grown up.
Breakfast is the one meal that I really could just do without. Im not a sweets person and most breakfast foods are sweet. Yogurt. Blech. It tastes good going down, but then you're left with that filmy, milky, residue-y aftermath in your mouth. No thank you. And cereal. Dont even get me started on cereal. There are two main problems there: 1) Its cold. Im too tired to shovel something cold into my mouth early in the morning -if that makes any sense. A nice, hot, strong cup of coffee is much more my speed. And 2) its accompanied by milk. Which I dont love. There are precisely two instances in which I can gag down milk and they are when I drink it with oreos and when I drink it while eating peanut butter. But cereal is one of those foods that baffle me. People seem to just love it. Its the same with tea. People LOVE their tea. I dont care much for it. Its like dirty water. Non-juice. Its just different than I wish it was. But Im tempted to force myself into liking it, only because of the level of enjoyment people seem to get out of it. They hunch up their shoulders, wrap their hands around a warm mug of tea, and inhale it before sipping away like its a little slice of heaven. I seriously think Im missing the boat on this one.
I have one more bone to pick with breakfast foods and then I will be quiet. Why is it, that you can never go to a restaraunt, and order french toast along with all the other accoutrements, as one meal? Its always the french toast, all by itself, as its own meal. You can order pancakes with sausage, eggs, potatoes... Why are pancakes so special? They are essentially sweet, soggy, bread- and if there is one thing in the whole world that gets my gag reflex, it is soggy bread. (insert dry heave).
Well, I suppose there has to be a few things that I DONT like. Because lord knows I can scarcely pass up a bowl of pasta! Or any carb for that matter.
Maybe Im just a coffee-loving elitist. Maybe tea is simply an acquired taste and I just havent acquired it yet. I'll tackle that one after I tackle wine. Maybe soon I'll be a wine drinking, tea- loving grown up.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Confessions: Second Edition
So here's the real truth of the matter, however unsettling it may be. I think Im getting lazy. When I used to work, I was so good at compartmentalizing my time. Work time, check. Family time, check. Cleaning/ grocery shopping time, check. Free time, check. I was so much better at focusing wholly on each particular thing and then moving on to the next. I know life isnt always so "compartmentalized" and tidy like that, especially when juggling multiple roles in one day. We are a generation of multi-taskers. And we wear this badge as if its an honor. Maybe it is, to a degree. I can brush my teeth, put my daughter's hair in pigtails, talk on the phone, and keep my 12 month old out of the toilet (almost a full time job in itself) all the same time. Great. Grand. Getting things done.
Except...I think somewhere in the middle of all that, I tend to get swallowed up in the minutiae of my day. All those small tasks that maybe dont feel so groundbreakingly important, but on some level, they really are. I cherish the time Im able to spend at home with my two kids. But...do I really? I know in my heart of hearts, that answer is a resounding yes. But Im thinking that a little bit of the importance of my 'job' ( Ewe. I dont like the way that sounds. Lets say mission) has been lost on me lately. The tricky part, is that often some of the most mundane parental tasks- the ones we really dont love doing, if we're honest, can wind up being unexpectedly the sweetest moments. Goodnight prayers and kisses, early morning pre-coffee breakfast making, diaper changes that turn into tickle fights. But if Im always rushing through these things to get them done, instead of being actively present during them, I miss SO much. Its one thing to keep my children alive, fed, bathed, clothed, loved, safe, etc. That's the easy part. Its making the deposits in their hearts that requires so much more of me. And the scary part? Its easy not to do. Ooh. Just got REAL! (chuckle) It is though. Its easy to coast some days. To do the basic minimum requirement.
So I am personally (publicly) challenging myself. To rise to the occasion. To do my real and true best. And dont worry, its not some noble, grandiose proclamation to strike the perfect balance. Life is life. Whatever. Just putting myself in check.
In fact, this very moment, Jaxon is literally biting my ankles. Literally. And Bella is running circles through the kitchen and dining room like a wild banshee. So this is me, closing my computer, turning off the tv, and being present. Otherwise, good Lord, the house might burn down.
Except...I think somewhere in the middle of all that, I tend to get swallowed up in the minutiae of my day. All those small tasks that maybe dont feel so groundbreakingly important, but on some level, they really are. I cherish the time Im able to spend at home with my two kids. But...do I really? I know in my heart of hearts, that answer is a resounding yes. But Im thinking that a little bit of the importance of my 'job' ( Ewe. I dont like the way that sounds. Lets say mission) has been lost on me lately. The tricky part, is that often some of the most mundane parental tasks- the ones we really dont love doing, if we're honest, can wind up being unexpectedly the sweetest moments. Goodnight prayers and kisses, early morning pre-coffee breakfast making, diaper changes that turn into tickle fights. But if Im always rushing through these things to get them done, instead of being actively present during them, I miss SO much. Its one thing to keep my children alive, fed, bathed, clothed, loved, safe, etc. That's the easy part. Its making the deposits in their hearts that requires so much more of me. And the scary part? Its easy not to do. Ooh. Just got REAL! (chuckle) It is though. Its easy to coast some days. To do the basic minimum requirement.
So I am personally (publicly) challenging myself. To rise to the occasion. To do my real and true best. And dont worry, its not some noble, grandiose proclamation to strike the perfect balance. Life is life. Whatever. Just putting myself in check.
In fact, this very moment, Jaxon is literally biting my ankles. Literally. And Bella is running circles through the kitchen and dining room like a wild banshee. So this is me, closing my computer, turning off the tv, and being present. Otherwise, good Lord, the house might burn down.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
So What, if it is!
In the vein of my last post, and embracing who I really am, I have decided to listen to many of my freinds prodding, and go ahead and start a blog. Disclaimer: I do not read, follow, or even pretend to know anything about blogs. Im an amateur. Im also doing this in spite of my husbands endless ribbing and teasing me about it. He says its nerdy. I dont agree (obviously) But ya know what? So what if it is!
I could have relative things to say! Relative to what...well, it just depends. This blog will not be about any one thing in particular. It will not just be about motherhood. Because, while that takes up an insurmountable chunk of my time, my heart, and my mind, its not the ONLY thing about me. It will not just be tidbits I learn here or there. Or even just funny tidbits in general. It will not be about travel, because while I would love to travel with all my heart, I have not had much opportunity to do so quite yet. It will not be about marriage. It will not be a list of gripes. It will HOPEFULLY not be boring. It will just be...well...ME. Thus the title. In my mind, its an ironic, satirical, (always laced with humor) look at my life as a stay at home mom . To someone who doesnt know me, it may sound like the "this" in my title makes me sound like some jaded, despondent, desperate houswife with nothing but time and a keyboard. Which genuinely could not be further from the truth. Could not. Just so we clear that up.
So here I go, putting myself out there, for all to see. Please be nice to me. ;)
I could have relative things to say! Relative to what...well, it just depends. This blog will not be about any one thing in particular. It will not just be about motherhood. Because, while that takes up an insurmountable chunk of my time, my heart, and my mind, its not the ONLY thing about me. It will not just be tidbits I learn here or there. Or even just funny tidbits in general. It will not be about travel, because while I would love to travel with all my heart, I have not had much opportunity to do so quite yet. It will not be about marriage. It will not be a list of gripes. It will HOPEFULLY not be boring. It will just be...well...ME. Thus the title. In my mind, its an ironic, satirical, (always laced with humor) look at my life as a stay at home mom . To someone who doesnt know me, it may sound like the "this" in my title makes me sound like some jaded, despondent, desperate houswife with nothing but time and a keyboard. Which genuinely could not be further from the truth. Could not. Just so we clear that up.
So here I go, putting myself out there, for all to see. Please be nice to me. ;)
Dont Fight the Funk
October 25, 2010
So Im getting dangerously close to 30. And while I don't bemoan parting with my 20's- I do confess to feeling a little defiant about the fact. In your 20's you're 'young'. You're vivacious and lively and carefree and maybe even a little bit foolish. But it's allowed.
So here I sit, on the brink of my very last year my twenties. My lovely twenties. I've decided (determined) that my 30's will be good. In your 30's you earn that self-possessed, self- assured, comfortable-in-your-own-skin air about you. And on that note, I've decided, its time to put on my big girl panties (the proverbial kind, not actual, grandma panties. After all, 30's is hardly the same as 70's) and face facts about myself. There are just certain things, that no matter how you look at it, I will most certainly never be 'great' at. And so I am going to accept each one and move on. So here's a shorthand list of what I've got so far.
1) I will never be great at doing my own hair or makeup. Its not that I dont care, exactly. Its more like Im a minimalist, but not by choice. I just lack the skills, and the genetic make-up to look fantastically put together without trying. You know the type. Every time I see one of these women, I really do want to pull them aside for a little pow-wow and ask them how they managed this. "Really! I genuinely want to know! Is there a secret? Some trick I did not learn yet? I'll keep it in the vault, I swear! Just tell me!".
Ah, I guess I will stick with my blown out hair and and mascara and blush and blend in with the rest of the world. At least I know my place.
2) I will never be great at keeping that joke, comment, random thought to myself. I blurt. Im a blurter. Im also very animated and I tend to be...(cringing as I even type this)...excitable. Which tends to make me louder. Sigh. Its true. But its who I am! So there. At least Im copping to it and owning it (I think). Im not, nor will I ever be, one of those peripheral people who quietly takes it all in, and doesn't let it all out. Which brings me to my number 3). I will never be great at hiding my feelings. Im such a bad liar. Generally whatever Im thinking, feeling, wondering is written ALL over my face. Not very handy. One of these days I'll learn to be more guarded. But for now, I'll go ahead being an open book. Its not such a bad thing.
4) I will never be great at relaxing in an unkempt house. There is no wiggle room on this one, either. I've tried. I'll feel irritable or slightly chaotic and I won't exactly know why. But voila! As soon as my house is clean and the smell of pinesol and comet wafts through the air, its like the sun suddenly shines out of my butt. It makes me happy. Not giddy happy, but the nice, pleasant, peaceful brand of happy.
5) I will never be great at making snap decisions. I hem and haw. I ask for input. I vascillate. But this one I I'd rather change than make peace with.
There are a lot of things that I AM. But that is a blog for another day. And there are a lot more things that I will never be great at. But these are the only ones I've made peace with just yet. So its, as I always say, "Dont fight the funk, eh?!" (I really do always say that). Cheers to one more year to soak it all up and figure it all out.
So Im getting dangerously close to 30. And while I don't bemoan parting with my 20's- I do confess to feeling a little defiant about the fact. In your 20's you're 'young'. You're vivacious and lively and carefree and maybe even a little bit foolish. But it's allowed.
So here I sit, on the brink of my very last year my twenties. My lovely twenties. I've decided (determined) that my 30's will be good. In your 30's you earn that self-possessed, self- assured, comfortable-in-your-own-skin air about you. And on that note, I've decided, its time to put on my big girl panties (the proverbial kind, not actual, grandma panties. After all, 30's is hardly the same as 70's) and face facts about myself. There are just certain things, that no matter how you look at it, I will most certainly never be 'great' at. And so I am going to accept each one and move on. So here's a shorthand list of what I've got so far.
1) I will never be great at doing my own hair or makeup. Its not that I dont care, exactly. Its more like Im a minimalist, but not by choice. I just lack the skills, and the genetic make-up to look fantastically put together without trying. You know the type. Every time I see one of these women, I really do want to pull them aside for a little pow-wow and ask them how they managed this. "Really! I genuinely want to know! Is there a secret? Some trick I did not learn yet? I'll keep it in the vault, I swear! Just tell me!".
Ah, I guess I will stick with my blown out hair and and mascara and blush and blend in with the rest of the world. At least I know my place.
2) I will never be great at keeping that joke, comment, random thought to myself. I blurt. Im a blurter. Im also very animated and I tend to be...(cringing as I even type this)...excitable. Which tends to make me louder. Sigh. Its true. But its who I am! So there. At least Im copping to it and owning it (I think). Im not, nor will I ever be, one of those peripheral people who quietly takes it all in, and doesn't let it all out. Which brings me to my number 3). I will never be great at hiding my feelings. Im such a bad liar. Generally whatever Im thinking, feeling, wondering is written ALL over my face. Not very handy. One of these days I'll learn to be more guarded. But for now, I'll go ahead being an open book. Its not such a bad thing.
4) I will never be great at relaxing in an unkempt house. There is no wiggle room on this one, either. I've tried. I'll feel irritable or slightly chaotic and I won't exactly know why. But voila! As soon as my house is clean and the smell of pinesol and comet wafts through the air, its like the sun suddenly shines out of my butt. It makes me happy. Not giddy happy, but the nice, pleasant, peaceful brand of happy.
5) I will never be great at making snap decisions. I hem and haw. I ask for input. I vascillate. But this one I I'd rather change than make peace with.
There are a lot of things that I AM. But that is a blog for another day. And there are a lot more things that I will never be great at. But these are the only ones I've made peace with just yet. So its, as I always say, "Dont fight the funk, eh?!" (I really do always say that). Cheers to one more year to soak it all up and figure it all out.
Confessions of an Honest Mom
October 9, 2010
Ok. Moms out there: have we all been in that situation where you're having pleasant, small-talk-y conversation with another mom-acquaintance (which generally means talk about your kids. Story swapping, anticdote sharing, general inadvertant gushing)...and said mom keeps slipping in comments about how she "really just can't believe what a wonderful personality little Billy has". Or, "how truly, truly lucky she feels, and SO honored" to be little Suzy's mother. And you feel yourself smile and graciously agree, saying something along the lines of "Yes, they really are so charming, and yes you really should feel lucky". - When inwardly you stifle a hearty eye-roll. I mean, seriously? Let's all be real here. Dont ALL moms EVERYWHERE feel this way? Don't we all, deep in our hearts, feel that our kids are somehow spectacular?
Now,...(pause)...I get it. Im treading lightly here. I am not some cold, cynical, eye-rolling monster who doesn't wanna hear about your cute kid. On the contrary, I think its important to share the positive sentiments as much or probably more than sharing the negative ones. After all, its a mixed bag, is it not? I do, however, have a low tolerance for that subtle, passive-aggressive-my-life-is-ever-so-slightly-better-than-yours-THING that women can be so good at. There. I said it.
Does anyone know what Im talking about? That shift, however subterranean it might be, that feels like these pleasantries have suddenly taken on an ugly, slightly competitive edge? ...WHY?! What's the point?
I consider myself lucky to have a close circle of family and freinds, -moms themselves- who I can say this is not ever the case with. We all know and love each other and our subsequent children, and we can just go ahead and be real with each other. How refreshing! To be able to just come right out and admit that we, (or one of our little darlings) are having an 'off'day. A bad day. A naughty day, even. (Gasp) It happens. Its true. No judgements. No clicking tongues or raised eyebrows. Because, as parents, aren't we ALL climbing that same, daily, uphill battle?
Now, at the risk of sounding like a negative nellie- I will ammend that I do not mean to sound, nor do I feel, that parenting is a drag. Not at all. As I've said before, there is nothing else I'd rather be doing. Nothing that can empty you, yet gloriously fill you up at the same time, quite like parenting. So let's all be chums, eh? Comrades. Let's all be real here.
Ok. Moms out there: have we all been in that situation where you're having pleasant, small-talk-y conversation with another mom-acquaintance (which generally means talk about your kids. Story swapping, anticdote sharing, general inadvertant gushing)...and said mom keeps slipping in comments about how she "really just can't believe what a wonderful personality little Billy has". Or, "how truly, truly lucky she feels, and SO honored" to be little Suzy's mother. And you feel yourself smile and graciously agree, saying something along the lines of "Yes, they really are so charming, and yes you really should feel lucky". - When inwardly you stifle a hearty eye-roll. I mean, seriously? Let's all be real here. Dont ALL moms EVERYWHERE feel this way? Don't we all, deep in our hearts, feel that our kids are somehow spectacular?
Now,...(pause)...I get it. Im treading lightly here. I am not some cold, cynical, eye-rolling monster who doesn't wanna hear about your cute kid. On the contrary, I think its important to share the positive sentiments as much or probably more than sharing the negative ones. After all, its a mixed bag, is it not? I do, however, have a low tolerance for that subtle, passive-aggressive-my-life-is-ever-so-slightly-better-than-yours-THING that women can be so good at. There. I said it.
Does anyone know what Im talking about? That shift, however subterranean it might be, that feels like these pleasantries have suddenly taken on an ugly, slightly competitive edge? ...WHY?! What's the point?
I consider myself lucky to have a close circle of family and freinds, -moms themselves- who I can say this is not ever the case with. We all know and love each other and our subsequent children, and we can just go ahead and be real with each other. How refreshing! To be able to just come right out and admit that we, (or one of our little darlings) are having an 'off'day. A bad day. A naughty day, even. (Gasp) It happens. Its true. No judgements. No clicking tongues or raised eyebrows. Because, as parents, aren't we ALL climbing that same, daily, uphill battle?
Now, at the risk of sounding like a negative nellie- I will ammend that I do not mean to sound, nor do I feel, that parenting is a drag. Not at all. As I've said before, there is nothing else I'd rather be doing. Nothing that can empty you, yet gloriously fill you up at the same time, quite like parenting. So let's all be chums, eh? Comrades. Let's all be real here.
Vay. Cay. Shun.
August 7, 2011
In a few days, I am going to be plucked out of my everyday responsibilities, and going on a real and proper vacation with my husband. SANS children. This is a big deal. We don't really do this....ever. Im 50% excited 50% anxious about leaving my babies for a whole week. Ok, 60% excited 40% anxious. Ok fine, 70%/30%. Dont judge!
While there are not many things I can think of in my life that fulfill me more than raising my two lovies, I can openly admit, I need to recharge. Nothing can fill you up and completely empty you at the same time quite like parenting, yes?
So for 7 glorious days, Im giong to lie on the beach. Im going to sleep through the night and wake up only because my body 'just feels like it'. I will read an entire book! Im going to eat and drink to my hearts content. I will not hear my name 500 times a day. I will not wipe any noses or bums other than my own. And while I will worry far too much and miss my kids til my stomach aches, Im going to hang up my 'mommy' hat and savor the chance to worry about nothing other than being Nathan's wife. Im going to celebrate being married for 9 years to the man I love. Im going to have the time to look him in the eye during a conversation. For one little snippet of time, we get to be that totally fun, carefree couple we used to be. And maybe we still are?
I guess its good to have something to look forward to. But its also good to realize that even when you dont, your life is still blessed.
In a few days, I am going to be plucked out of my everyday responsibilities, and going on a real and proper vacation with my husband. SANS children. This is a big deal. We don't really do this....ever. Im 50% excited 50% anxious about leaving my babies for a whole week. Ok, 60% excited 40% anxious. Ok fine, 70%/30%. Dont judge!
While there are not many things I can think of in my life that fulfill me more than raising my two lovies, I can openly admit, I need to recharge. Nothing can fill you up and completely empty you at the same time quite like parenting, yes?
So for 7 glorious days, Im giong to lie on the beach. Im going to sleep through the night and wake up only because my body 'just feels like it'. I will read an entire book! Im going to eat and drink to my hearts content. I will not hear my name 500 times a day. I will not wipe any noses or bums other than my own. And while I will worry far too much and miss my kids til my stomach aches, Im going to hang up my 'mommy' hat and savor the chance to worry about nothing other than being Nathan's wife. Im going to celebrate being married for 9 years to the man I love. Im going to have the time to look him in the eye during a conversation. For one little snippet of time, we get to be that totally fun, carefree couple we used to be. And maybe we still are?
I guess its good to have something to look forward to. But its also good to realize that even when you dont, your life is still blessed.
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