Holly Jolly Chaos

Im doing it again... Just like I did last year.  BLURG.  Im sitting in the same hideous recliner that I did a year ago (incidentally I still refuse to part with it, however much I despise it's lack of aesthetic beauty.) So I'm sitting in my chair, shirking my duties, surrounded by throw pillows, farm animal toys, boxes, books, cold medicines, important documents....all the stuff I keep moving and shuffling and keeping within arms reach for the next 5 to 7 to 10 days until we finally, officially move.

The thing is, I honestly just don't do well with this kind of chaos. I hate it. Haaaaaaaate it. There, I said it!  My home is my space. Its my sanctuary. Its my turf. I like things clean. I like things organized. I like things put away. I like surfaces to shine. I like to cook in my kitchen. I like to put up holly jolly decorations at the proper time in the month of December. All of this has been seriously messed with. Which is seriously messing with ME.

I keep zoning out. Just completely malfunctioning at inopportune moments! I was just rocking little brother to sleep for his nap (something I refuse to give up just yet, as he is my last baby, and Im entirely unprepared to give up those 10 minutes of quiet snuggling). I accidentally sat there for 30 minutes, wasting precious time. Thinking about how I need to organize the junk drawer which morphed into the junk cupboard. (I really don't want to do that one.) I also need to wash all the rugs and blankets before I pack them up. I need to organize the kids' sock drawers because Im sure half of them dont fit, or dont have a match, and why take 23  useless, HALF pairs of socks to the new house? Come to think of it, I need to organize our sock drawers too. And on that note, why dont I just dedicate a shoebox to live on top of the dryer as a little sock coffin for all the socks that meet their demise in the dryer. I mean really, where to they GO?!

I need to dig up the purple flowering plant in the backyard. The ONE plant that I have managed to keep alive for my daughter who loves to garden. Who tragically has a mother that cannot garden. Who CAN NOT keep anything alive. No, we definitely can't leave behind her beloved (and alive!) purple plant. I need to take the goodwill things to the goodwill because they keep tumbling all over the way back of my car. Luckily I have a "way back", so its out of sight, out of mind. That one I can save for later. Oh, I really need to go buy some special cleaner for my shower because there is wierd rust in our water that tints the shower pan orange in the cracks, and I just can't leave that there. I should pack up more of my kitchen, although that feels risky because after all, we do still need to eat for the next 5 to 7 to 10 days. I need to purge the hallway cabinets that store everything from humidifiers to movies, to placemats, to easter baskets, to framed pictures that I never put up at this house because I knew we'd be moving in a year.

A year. Did an entire year really pass by already? Can I somehow slow life down? Press a pause button? No, I suppose I can't. So I may as well learn to stop and smell the roses, even amid the holly jolly chaos that Im currently in.

This makes me sound grouchy, but I don't think I am? I think Im just floundering a little. Just a bit "out of sorts" this holiday season. I definitely am not complaining. I am beyond thrilled to be moving into a brand new home. OUR home! I am even more thrilled that soon I will have my husband back. That soon evenings and weekends will be leisurely again. So what if there's still roughly 47 projects that will still need finishing at the new place. So what if we slap up a charlie brown, helter skelter tree only a few days before christmas! So what.  There is much to be thankful for. I think I just need to get over the chaos. And quit zoning out. And get back to work.

Did I shave my legs for all this? No. Because I honestly dont have a clue where my razor is.

Tales From the Trenches: On Staying Home and Staying Positive

Im not going to lie. Im going a little bit crazy. Not to mention stir crazy. Winter has set in, the days are shorter and darker, and Husband has recently been otherwise occupied by the teeny tiny project of a new home, which has often left the kids and I filling our time at home. The weather has turned cold and wet which rules out most outside play. Park days have dwindled, and confession: so have playing-in-the-backyard-days because of Buster's land mines that Husband normally picks up, but now have become my area of responsibility. Along with taking out the trash and raking leaves and other silently agreed upon "man jobs" in our house. And while I officially can (and do!- points there) get these tasks done, lets all be real here. Where Husband would do them bi-weekly, I've done them bi-monthly. Atrocious, I know.

So we've spent many a day indoors. Trying to keep two kids busy and happy and out of trouble. This takes an exorbitant amount of effort some days! Puzzles are ruined by little brother. So are all endeavors to draw, paint, color, or cut/glue. And since Im making a genuine effort to minimize screen time (sidenote: this is a real effort at improvement on my part, because both my kids will happily sit in front of the tv and watch movies together in blissful quiet harmony. While there is nothing wrong with this, and we do it often, I am trying to engage them more.) Be present, right?! Do the work! Make deposits in their little hearts! All the stuff that they dont tell you is the actual hard part of parenting.

SO. Its been interesting. In fact, this very minute, my two pajama clad tinies have gotten into the art cupboard and there are markers, paint brushes, color books, and the like all over my kitchen counter. There have been no altercations, no tears, and no damage to clothing, person, or surface, so Im allowing it to go on unsupervised. For now. I think this has actually been good for me in terms of loosening up. As a person who is perpetually tidying and cleaning I have gotten better at living life and allowing messes. (Kids will do that to you.) Sure! Get out the playhouse! And the barbies and the play food, and the hot wheels, and the baby dolls, and the airplanes, and the books. And ok fine, the toy microphone. And sure! We can play with it all at once! Mix it all up together! Go for it.

 Its good for me and its good for them. The 2 year old is learning to play and use his imagination and share and get along. The 4 year old is learning that if you're big enough to get it out, you're big enough to clean it all up. She's also learning patience with the 2 year old because he reeks havoc on all of her best laid plans. She's learning to lead by example and do the right thing even when its not always "fair". 

 I'M learning that I have a lot to learn. Some days I finish with a sense of pride and joy and fullness.  For the quality time spent reading books and snuggling. For getting down on the floor with them and pretending. For diffusing arguments and drawing the right responses out of them.  For being Fun Mommy! Which, if Im being totally honest, is usually Daddy's area of expertise. (I say this fondly and begrudgingly at the same time.) I love that Husband comes home, changes out of his work clothes and then wrestles on the floor with the kids while I cook dinner. I love that they squeal with delight when they hear the garage door open. It only makes me a little bit sad that Im not the first one they run to, to be silly with. But really, that's my own doing. Some days Im pleased with myself for turning off the tv, and turning on the music and dancing around the living room with the kids- AND managing to be productive at the same time. In the way that it really counts, and in the practical, getting-the-floors-mopped kind of way.

 And then some days I feel utterly defeated. Some days I forget to play and have fun because Im too busy taking care of life. Some days the kids have fought, the house is a mess, and I have lost my patience (after the 17th time little brother has climbed on the counter and emptied the entire contents of my purse, then ruined his sister's art project and thrown every single crayon in every single direction.) Some days big sister has been excessively whiny and contrary. Some days I have a hard time controlling THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE! Its true. Go ahead and judge. Some days I let them watch too much tv. (Cringe) Eeek. I know.

But we are living life. Life is messy and complicated and full of mistakes. But God is faithful. Lessons have been learned. Important lessons. Like, positive reinforcement and encouragement and praise are every bit as important as discipline. Like, if I want my kids to practice  kindness, gentleness, patience, self control, etc.- then I ought to be practicing them myself. Like, thankfulness for simplicity. Sometimes when raising small children, its easy to get swallowed up in the minutiae of the day. But the day is made up of hundreds of moments. Busy, loud, hectic,  moments of rushing our the door or getting dinner on the table. Quiet, still, midnight moments spent rocking, feeding, and comforting. Precious bedtime prayer moments where you are touched and surprised by the peek into your 4 year old's heart and concerns. Moments of mundane, vitally important opportunities to teach and mold and love and grow. And those moments are SIMPLE. They are easy to miss.  It's taken me two babies to learn to appreciate THOSE moments. They're what I end up remembering. They're what I end up cherishing. A tiny sweaty head with cherub cheeks and curly lashes, nestled on my chest in the rocking chair when I can hardly keep my eyes open and I feel like the only person in the dark universe who is awake. Giggles and squeals in the bathtub. Hurdles of pride and tears followed by hugs and forgiviness. It can be a lot of work but it's still SIMPLE. And it fills my heart with a simple kind of joy. Kids are funny like that. Like I always say, they completely fill you up and completely empty you at the same time.

So, I am putting this on an index card -

 Galations 5:22-23 "But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control; against such things, there is no law."

Then Im going to put it on the fridge as a reminder to my tiny tenders... And I'll put it on my bathroom mirror as a reminder to myself.  And then Im going to pray a lot. :)

Dont Fight the Funk... Just Kick it in the Shins and Move On

A year ago when I turned 29 I started contemplating the inexorable shift from my 20's into my 30's. I had only one year left to enjoy my twenties and I decided it was time to put on my big girl panties, take a good honest look at myself, and make peace with the whole package. I even made an actual list of things I'd never be great at (Don't Fight the Funk post.) I do love my lists! Even if they are self deprecating and slightly neurotic. I admitted that I'll probably never be great at doing my own hair and makeup, relaxing in an unkempt house or making snap decisions.  I even owned up to being a blurter and an open book. But I left out how I can't dance and how impatient I am and well...lots and lots of other things. It was more of a rough draft, really, than an all inclusive list.

So now a whole year has passed since these musings and that inexorable shift has happened. Its here. I've been 30 for four entire days now. Which basically makes me an expert. (Sarcasm here should be implicit. And if it's not, y'all are reading the wrong blog)

So I've had a whole year to get on board with this turning 30 business, and I've done an acceptable job of it I guess. I understand it's the end of an era. I can appreciate that. On the whole, Im content with my twenties. I entered them with a better figure and fewer wrinkles but I left them with a husband and two tiny tenders that have captured my heart and run away with it. It may have taken the better part of a decade, but I've gained a truer knowledge of who I am,  a clearer understanding of what Im about, and a closer relationship with my God. I'm more comfortable in my own skin. I care less what other people think. I listen more to my gut and my conscience. I appreciate more.

Ok. Not too shabby.

Except...

There's this whole gaggle of things I still desperately want to change! I want to have more gumption. I want to be more fearless. I want to be more positive. I want to speak less and listen more. I want to show more grace, even when it goes against the grain. Good Lord, I want to worry less! I want to get this uncooperative 30 year old body right and tight again. I want to have more fun with my kids. I want to loosen up. And good grief,  I want to learn how to do my hair and makeup already!

So Im thinking maybe there's some holy grail of a middle ground here? Not striving or fussing over the things that you can never change, while making a genuine effort to work on the things you can?
I guess I have the next decade to find out. Then at 40 I can re-evaluate and go ahead and have a mid-life crisis if I need to.

In the meantime, I HAVE branched out a little bit. I bought a curling iron and some eyeshadow, locked myself in the bathroom, and decided I wasnt coming out until I learned a thing or two. I emerged 3 hours later with a kink in my neck, a few burn marks, and slightly sweaty and highly irritable-  but all in all I'd say it was a success. I've learned how to do a smokey eye and sufficiently wield a curling wand...and on some days its even kind to me.

Husband and I even went dancing! I curled my hair, fumbled with some makeup, and even put on a little black dress. We were going out on the town! I used to be able to dance. Years ago. But somewhere along the line I became convinced I'd lost my mojo. But ya know what? I had so much fun! Mojo shmojo. See? Dont we look like we're having fun?

So after turning 30 and taking stock I'm sticking with "Be Who You Are and Own It!" And Im landing somewhere between "Dont Fight The Funk", and "Just Kick it in the Shins and Move On."
 Oh yes, its a real place.

The Thing About Striving...

The thing about striving... is that its often a mistake.

Its been a while since I've sat down to write. Not for lack of material, but for lack of inspiration. For lack of some positive nugget of substantial worth to share. And Im not in the mood to write about trips and circumstance and...fluff.

 I've sort of been living life in a head-above-water state of mind for the past couple of months. I've been heavy-laden in my heart and in my mind. I've been stressed out. Extremely stressed out. I've been sort of trudging along pushing this load of worry and anxiety and responsibility up this giant hill, straining harder and growing wearier by the day before realizing, something's gotta give. Ever feel like you're a hamster in a wheel? Spinning and spinning and trying so hard, and bless your heart, just not getting to any real destination?

I opened my favorite daily devotional two days ago and was hit by the force of the first few sentences. A truth I could cling to like a life saving anchor when drifting afloat on the waves of my own concerns. It read,

2 Timothy 2:24 "The servant of the Lord must not strive."

"Be careful that you are following Me, and I will care for all else. Striving is for those who have not yet learned to trust Me. Anxiety is the affliction of the self-possessed."

So often as believers, we strive where we ought not.  And in the striving, we become obsessed with our own problems. We worry and fret. Will it work out? Will it get easier? Will I get what I want? We pray, even. We ask and ask for what we think we should have. When really, we should trust. We should rest. We should have the faith to know that our times are in His hands. That if His eye is on the sparrow, then surely it watches over me?

I am not talking about walking around in some kind of ooky-spooky spiritual misty fog. Lord knows each day is filled with its own tasks and realities that require action and courage and forward motion. But is all of the striving really necessary? I think maybe its not. Not always anyway.

Maybe if I excersize a little more faith and a little less concern for my own comforts, I'll live a life of a little more substance. And every little bit counts.

Mambo Italiano

     Its really true, dear readers- We got it! We got another trip! (insert akward air-high-fiving and elbow nudging) But no. Not just any trip. We decided to try our luck this time and go for Europe and by some small (huge) miracle, we got it! It was confirmed two days ago and I am  still in a state of semi- disoriented shock. The happy sort...by all means, the happy sort.

The thing is, we are not these people! The people who take trips to Italy as if its no big deal. Or for that matter, the people who take trips, period.  As I've mentioned HERE and HERE its basically a big fat giant blessing to average people like us. So I am beyond thrilled and, well, lets just be real here- basically about to poop myself with excitement. We get to spend 3 nights in Milan and 3 nights in Florence, Italy! Sweet baby Jesus in a manger! We dont actually leave for 5 months so that's probably (maybe) enough time for me to calm down and behave like a normal person. Husband might have to pack an extra tranquilizer dart in case I get overly excited when we step off the plane and I start to speak incoherently or go crosseyed or something. We cant have that.  (I say "extra" eluding to the fact that he has any tranquilizer darts at all, which alas, is not the case. I just thought I'd give Husby a brooding and mysterious element of danger in today's blog post. Ya know, for fun.) Tranquilizer darts completely aside, Im sure I'll  put my foot in my mouth at least once or have some kind of unfortunate mishap while we're there to tell you about in an Akward and Awesome European Edition. Stay tuned. Meanwhile, I just had to share the good news.

Did I shave my legs for this? Well I did try. I certainly did try.

In my recent post, The Thing With Dinner..., we discussed the mayhem that generally (okay nightly) ensues upon my announcing that dinner is ready.  Maybe this is normal, maybe its not, but its certainly a real thing that happens in our house. Except now Im thinking that there very well may be a THING with the shower too. And phonecalls. Any phonecall. My home could be a perfectly harmonious scene of domestic bliss, but the minute I turn on the shower it flips some imaginary switch in my children's heads. The switch that turns them from Happy to Beastly.

 Its as if kids have a radar for these sort of things, yes? They could be playing/ coloring/ watching a cartoon without a care in the world for where I am or what Im doing, but the second I step into the shower there is, naturally, some kind of dire, desperate "emergency" (as my four year old assures me) that needs my immediate attention. I'll hear a pitter patter of feet and definitive shrieks as they both bolt into the bathroom with some kind of story to tell. "Mommy! Jaxon got pee water out of the toilet and he's putting it in the dog dish!" (Oh yes. You know its true). Or,  "You better hurry- he's coloring on the counter again!" or any number of other ridiculous personal offenses- you know the type- "he's staring at me", "He keeps touching me!", etc etc.  And poor Jax, bless his heart, cant ever seem to get out more than a frustrated "Mommy! No! Bella!" followed by accusatory pointing and  helpless shoulder slumping.

 And its never when Im almost done showering. Its always right as Im soaping up my face and cant see, or right as Im attempting to shave my legs. These same shenanigans seem to apply to whenever my phone rings with an important phonecall. A perfectly quiet room can get turned upside down in ten seconds flat.  I've made peace with the fact that until the kids are a tiny bit older, there really is no sacred place left in the house for a mother. Not even the bathroom. Especially not the bathroom.
This morning Bigger One was off to preschool so I let Littler One play around in my bathroom while I showered. One by one, random objects started to appear at my feet. A rubber band. A bracelet. An earring. He'd found a tiny crack at the bottom of the glass door and was quite please with himself for finding things that would fit through that very spot. Clever boy. I had to chuckle.  So what if I consider it a small personal victory to have shaved the front AND backs of my legs before date night. A victory's a victory. And hey, we can't have it ALL together ALL the time, right?...Right?

Postcards From Paradise

Husband and  I were lucky enough to spend the last glorious week in the Bahamas, on the aptly named Paradise Island. And I have to say, it lived up to its name. It was gorgeous. White sand beaches, the brightest, clearest, turquoise water that just so happened to be the perfect temperature. Amazing food (shocker that that made it at the top of the list, right?). Sunshine. Laughter. Romance. Fun. Sleep. Repeat.
As I explained HERE, this is pretty much a big fat deal to us. Travel is something we both have always wanted to do, but have not always had the time/money/gumption to just go ahead and do. Not very much at least, especially since having kids.  Husband lived in Europe for a year before we dated and has always remembered that time in his life with such fondness that it always gives me a small pang of regret to not have shared in those memories with him. So, Europe aside, we have been beyond thrilled to have earned two vacations (part of Husbands compensation at work) in two years now. As we boarded our plane I thought about how Im a pretty big fan of Edward Jones these days. In fact, if ol Teddy Jones wouldve been there, I might have been obliged to give him a big frencher for coming up with the brilliant idea of this all-expense-paid vacation business! Genius, if you ask me.

So I could go on and on about how wonderful and peaceful and lovely the whole week was and how grateful I am to have had time alone with Husband to just enjoy his company and recharge my batteries. But I thought it'd be a little more fun to sum it up in a little something I like to call  "Akward and Awesome, Bahamian Edition."

AKWARD: Husband and I lying in the shallow water looking for seashells for Bigger One, when a small but ferocious fish out of nowhere bites him directly on the nipple. Which was so funny it made it also a little bit awesome.

AWESOME:  Well, the whole bit.

Taking in the delightfully unfamiliar scenery.

Celebrating being married for 9 years to the man I love. (Awe. Look at him. Isnt he cute?)

Swimming with the dolphins.

Napping under palm trees.

Afternoons spent reading on the beach. (Outlander, no less. Husband by my side, waves in the background, and James Fraser on the page? Me likey.)  Followed by leisurely, candlit dinners that came in courses and lasted for two hours. Bliss.

Akward and Awesome

Our family likes to play many different versions of this game -asking the kids the peak/pit of their day at the  dinner table, recognizing both the akward and awesome highlights of the week or of certain events, etc, but they all basically boil down to the same idea. I mostly love hearing these stories from my 4 year old daughter who's entire life plays out as a minidrama. Her colorful insight and perspective almost always catch me off guard. She's got a lot going on upsairs and I find it delightfully interesting.
So here is the highlight reel of my personal akward and awesome moments this week:

Akward: As you know, Husband and I have been trying to lose a few lb's and with vacation only a week and a half away, we've really kicked it up a notch recently. (Of course I've been working at it for a few months and have lost only 10 lbs. Husband mentions offhandedly at dinner one night a couple weeks ago how he "thinks maybe he'd like to lose a few pounds"...and wakes up ten pounds lighter the next day. Rude!)(Im happy for him, really. But still. Rude.)

So Tuesday was just one of those days. You know the kind. Where the odds just seem against you. The dog rolled in poison oak, the kids were tired and whiney, Little One is cutting his 2 yr molars and is super fussy, it was hot and muggy outside so all outdoor activities reduced us all to sweaty crankpots, there was a rancid, undefinable stench coming from somewhere in the fridge that I could not for the LIFE of me pinpoint (Incidentally, I never did find the source of the smell. I emptied, scrubbed, and restocked the entire fridge and never found anything suspicious... which I found completely vexing. Oh well, the fridge got cleaned.) But you get the picture.

I'd not had much time to prepare healthy food all day either, which resulted in me only eating an apple, a yogurt, and a granola bar, which left me ravenous by the time Husband walked in the door at 6 oclock. (Admission Alert!) Me starving, equals me with devil horns. Its true. And so embarrassing. But mostly just the cold hard truth. Whenever I get cranky or emotional Husband always asks me if Im hungry or about to start my period. Which I find enfuriating! As if every emotion I feel must be validated by my stomach or my lady busines? Pshaw! But as much I hate to admit it (and I do) he's pretty much got me dialed in.

Needless to say, I was seriously lacking in carbs and in positive outlook, not to mention being about 'thisclose' to gnawing my own arm off by the time Husband had changed out of his tie. I cornered him on his way out of the closet, grabbed him by the arm, and pleaded "I cant take it anymore! Im starving! Take me to Applebee's!". LOL. Yes, Applebee's. My freind Poopie (its a nickname- long story) tells me that no one eats at Applebee's anymore but I dont care. They have the best buffalo wings ever. Husband could tell by my urgency that I was not to be messed with, so we loaded up the kids and headed to Applebee's. And discovered to the all of our delight, that on Tuesday nights kids eat for only .99 cents (how's that for economic?!) and they even had a clown there to paint faces and blow up balloons. True story. And no, this post was not meant to be a plug for Applebee's, its just turning out that way on accident.

So we ordered some buffalo wings to "share", and about 87 seconds later Husband turned around to find them almost all gone and me, happy as a clam. At which point, he openly started laughing and teasing me about the direct link to my appetite and mood. Match Point goes to Husband.  Shrug. Oh well, whaddayagonnado?

This week's Awesome highlight: Well... THIS!  Where we are breaking ground on our new home!

So its not much to look at just yet, but soon our new home will sit right there. Very exciting stuff.

So, what was your akward and awesome this week? Come on, its only fair, I told you mine.

The Thing About Gumption

     The thing about gumption... is that its best to have it in direct proportion to graciousness. I think. Dont you think?

I mean, people can be so different! The world takes all kinds, yes? Different ideas, different ways of communicating, different ways of reacting, different levels of being opinionated. I think Im a pretty average person. Usually somewhere in the middle of the pack. Fairly level-headed, fairly reasonable, usually polite- you know, normal. Haha! As if anyone has the exact same impression of what's "normal". What may seem outlandish to me, might be perfectly alright to the next guy, or vice versa. Which can make daily social life a little tricky to navigate at times.

 But shouldnt there be an underlying theme? An unspoken agreement or sorts? A little of what Aretha might call R-E-S-P-E-C-T? (chuckling) Ok, dont worry, Im not gonna bust out a gospel choir to "mm hmm" and "amen" all my bullet points on decency. Although that does sound like a wildly good idea. (Moms: wouldnt it be awesome if every time we corrected our kids we had a backup choir to really drive home our point? You know, just for emphasis? LOL "Share with your brother" (insert music notes) "Because its the right thing to do"- it'd all just sound so much more fun if a gospel choir sang it)

 Appearantly, even the playground is not much of a safe zone, as I discovered today when some lady got all huffy and rude with me out of nowhere. I literally didnt even see her coming. But all of a sudden, there she was  in my peripheral vision, swooping in and taking a big dump on my nice day.

 I took Bigger One to meet a little freind for a playdate and did the whole bit where you try to carry on a coversation with the other parent, while keeping a hawkeye on Big One and Little One at the same time. Especially Little One, who is a daredevil toddler and likes to give me little mini heart attacks by jumping off of things all the time. This involves lots of unfinished sentences, darting back and forth, and apologizing for always looking over the other parent's shoulder while you talk to them, but its what ya gotta do. Its understood. Its better than him falling to a terrible death from the jungle gym because I wasnt watching. (Confession: I live in fear of this. Im literally waiting for the first broken bone, or trip to the ER because he has jumped off something he should have never been on in the first place. He likes to test this out. His noggin is surprisingly risilient though. Its already been through a lot in his short life.)

I stood about 5 feet from Little One and had my eye trained on him the whole time he played, and he was having the time of his life. Great. Wonderful. Another sunny day at the park. Then he started to cry and call for me, so naturally I ran to him. (Incidentally, he was fine. Just hot and sweaty and thirsty) But appearantly the ten seconds it took for me to get to him was enough time to make him look like some poor rosy cheeked abandoned child who's mother doesnt take care of him. Because that's all it took for some lady to swoop in with her eagle talons and verbally claw my face off. Okay, not really. Im not even sure that translates. But I did get the unsettling feeling that she wasnt above a good clawing.

This total stranger, this person I dont even know, was all judgements and disapproving looks, hissing and shouting to me across the playground to me that he's crying, when Im visibly on my way to him already. Shaking her head and loudly lamenting for all to hear that the poor boy just needs his mother. The poor boy was having a grand time. And being well behaved. And the poor boy's mother was watching him the entire time.Then she was right there next to me, still carrying on. Im not even sure I heard all of her words. They were ugly words anyway.  In the moment, I scooped up my son, gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgement to Eagle Talons and walked away. Its my usual MO. Be nice and get the heck outta there. I hate confrontation. No part of me enjoys it. Im a peacekeeper of sorts. But then as I stood there, feeling her eyes burn into me, it sort of made me... angry. Then it made my blood boil. Where do people get off?! I mean, really?

Maybe Im too far across the other side of the line. Maybe I avoid confrontation to a fault. This is something to consider. (Later, when I have time) I've mentioned before the goal I set-  That if I must err, to err on the side of graciousness. But I have to say, in the last ten years as my 20's slowly slip into my 30's, I've learned a lot about who I actually am.  Being gracious will always be a goal, but I've realized that there is something to be said for some good old fashioned gumption as well. Its a fantastic quality to have. In fact, I'd like more of it.

Oh to be a person who shoots straight! Who says what they mean and means what they say. Who is sure of their convictions. Who is gutsy. Who is honest. Who never sinks to being passive aggressive. I think you can still be all of those things and still be kind and humble?  Its all in the delivery. When there is  a problem with someone, speak the truth to them in love. It works wonders! 1 Corinthians 16:14 "Do everything in love." To the point. I like it.

Conflict doesnt ever go away. It starts on the playground and it finds its way into most places Im afraid. But Id gamble to say that a little bit of grace and a little bit of gumption can go a long way in life.

Maybe Not an Epic Fail, but Definitely Wiggity Wack

          Epic.    Fail.
 I'll go ahead and bite off the words and choke them down... Let them marinade like a bitter tonic. The truth is staring me brazenly in the face. The scale does not lie. That harsh and impudent number shamelessly blinking back at me from under my feet offends my sensabilites.

It has been a while since I've posted any updates regarding my mission to trim down. I dont want to beat a dead horse, or consume my writing with petty concerns.There are many more important things to talk about.  But lets face it, its a legitemate concern at the moment. And of all the things that I am or am not, I do try to be honest and real. Good, bad, ugly, or otherwise. So in the spirit of keeping it real, I do hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. (just dont ask me about the Red Robin whiskey river bbq chicken sandwich. One instance where the truth isnt good for anyone)

 I think last time we checked in I miraculously lost 5 pounds in one week. And then I lost 1 more gimpy pound over two weeks. And now, almost a whole month later? NO MAS. Not one more pound. I am...disappointed. And only a little bit indignant. It never used to be this hard!? Is this a sign of aging?  I used to get away with cutting corners. But those days are over for me. As I mentioned here, YOU'VE GOTTA DO THE WORK!  Its simple math, really. Calories in. Calories out. Its not rocket science! Its not hard, its just...HARD.

Hard, yes. Impossible, no. I have done it before, I'll do it again. Well, I AM doing it. Six pounds is...considerable! (Can you tell by all the exclamation points that Im really trying to rally, here?)  Its progress. Its halfway. The element of panic I feel is due to the fact that time is running out. Summer has arrived. Its here. No more rainchecks (pun intended). Vacation is less than 6 weeks away. I thought I'd be done by now! Not floundering around like a whale out of water at the midway point!

I need to get my head back in the game. I need to change it up. I also need to stay positive. While it felt like it for a moment there on the scale, this is not an epic fail. I AM losing weight! Just a lot slower than Im accustomed to. I need to remember that its a process that happens one decision at a time. One healthy choice after another... after another... after another. Patience has never been my strong suit.

Maybe I should take up running again. I have a track literally on the other side of my backyard. Maybe I just need to get out in the fresh air and hit the track, leaving a trail of fervent effort in my wake. I feel like Im in a P90X rut. Its sunny and beautiful outside, and it just feels wrong to be excersizing indoors in a stuffy little area. Like a hamster in a wheel.  I am genuinely missing my gym membership right about now- a day I never thought I'd see! Spinning classes were my favorite way to work out. It was actually fun and I really enjoyed the element of fellow spinners. It was also brutal.  I mean, you know you're working hard when you're WRISTS are sweating, right? But spinning is not an option at the moment. Boo friggity hoo. Its time to improvise. Time to rally. My goal is still within reach- I have long arms. (I actually do. My brother in law used to call me Inspector Gadget because it took me a while to grow into my arms. Im happy to report that my limbs are all fairly dimentional these days. Ankles excluded.)

So that's the truth. I am disappointed, a teeny weeny bit panicked, and (foolishly) indignant. But I cannot claim to be confused. I know exactly why its taking so long. Its my own doing. Have I skipped workouts? A few. Have I cheated with the food? *Cough* What whiskey river bbq chicken sandwhich? Fries? What?! Chipotle? Me? (In my defense, I will say that Chipotle is bar none the best burrito I've ever tasted. So whenever passing through a town that boasts this delicious treat, I cannot pass it up. Cannot. That discussion is off the table.) LOL. But that's life. And its ok. As long as Im a good little soldier and fall back in line. Im making progress. Im halfway to my goal! I think at the halfway point there should be little mile markers. Or some kind of little signs that say "Discipline!" "Self Control!" "PS: You are doing this because you WANT to, and not because you have to! So shut up and quit your belly-aching." "PSS: Good job" "PPSS: Keep up the good work!"... I would find that helpful.

In conclusion, my goals for the next month are:
 1) Chin up and stay positive.
 2) Hit it harder with the workouts.
 3) More water
 4) Eat breakfast! Every day! (I know, I should've been doing that a loooong time ago)
 5) Eat something small and healthy every few hours.
 6) Keep perspective. This is something Im trying to improve and that's all it is. Be thankful for what I've got. Which is considerable. Health, Family, Basic necessities. More than a lot of people in the world. Make that double thankful.

It's Confirmed

Well, it's confirmed!
I cannot watch any photo montage set to music without crying. It doesnt matter what the pictures are of. I will cry. I am literally sitting in my chair chuckling (okay fine, cackling) out loud at myself right now. I think I always suspected this truth about myself, but today it was confirmed. I went to my niece's 8th grade graduation feeling 100% non-emotional about it. Just a happy day.  I sat down, looked at all the parents, was reminded that my own daughter will someday be graduating the 8th grade and had to bite my lip because I felt it coming. "Be cool Salhus" Im thinking..."It's akward if you cry. It's not even your daughter..."

Then the photo montage started. Set to music (which is the real emotional-clencher for me). I could'nt help it! I cried. I literally felt embarrassed, which made me laugh (I always default to laughing when I dont know what to do). So, I was probably a very unsettling bench-mate to the kindly, old man sitting next to me...with my half crying, half laughing, entirely strange display. Ah, who cares. Like I said, he was kindly. And my sister was there to laugh with me. She gets me. And that helps in any situation.

Sitting there in the auditorium, smelling that lingering funk specific to all school gymnasiums, looking at the pictures, looking at my niece- it all took me back to my own high school and even college days.  Any of you readers who know me well at all, know that I am a VERY nostalgiac person. "Remember When" is my second all time favorite game. (My first is "Name That Movie". Because I rule at it)

 "Remember when junior prom was ruined by my akward date?", "Rememeber when Norby and I fell in the middle of that pep rally and my cheer uniform went over my head, going from barely existent to nonexistent?", "Remember when we pulled that all nighter at Denny's?" , "Remember when we'd all sit outside in the commons talking and laughing til midnight every night?" "Remember that road trip to HB?" "Remember Amber's "Jungle Fever" dance?"(the other Amber), "Remember Little Blue? (my first car) And late night trips to Taco Bell while we listened to Aretha Franklin?" "Member that?"

I don't know why I love memory lane so much! Well, yes I do. Because we had a lot of good times! Those years for me were filled with laughter and excitement and new chapters and, of course, romances. But I don't look back on those times with anything other than fondness. I have no desire to go back to that time of life. While it was all invigorating and new and delightfully free of responsibility- it was also not "as good as it gets", as they say. Ya know what I mean? It bothers me when peers freak out and essentially turn their lives upside down, based on the desire to regain freedom or youth or whatever it is they think they want to go back to and get more of.  Yuck, that sounds judgemental. Let me rephrase. People might turn their lives upside down for any number of good and real reasons and that is, of course, no business of mine. I guess I just mean, for me personally, I hope to grab on to each day and get the most out of it, regardless of what lies within those 24 hrs. And then to move on to the next with a sense of contentment. Take it for what it is.  I hope to, and I want to, but I need to do it more.

I'm past the high school, the college, and even the newlywed days. They each had their peaks and their valleys. Now I'm in that phase where we have small children and on some days it feels like that alone is an engulfing experience. We're riding that rollercoaster of joy and triumph, heartache and fear, bafflement and wonder. Kids can take you from pride to dismay and back again multiple times in a day, yes?! And while I will admit, I have had moments (only moments!) of feeling like motherhood might swallow me whole- it's also not the only thing about me. I am a wife. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am a daughter. I am a mother. I am good at certain things and I'm hopeless at others.

I've written before about my desire and goal to be more PRESENT in each day, in each moment. It's so easy Not to do. I can so quickly fill up my time with cleaning, cooking, dressing, bathing, changing diapers, running errands. All good things. All things that need doing. But I want to take more time to appreciate. To soak it up. To play more barbies with my daughter, to make more mudpies with my son, and to remember to give my husband that look that he knows means "I love you" in the middle of the evening, bathtime chaos. To laugh more with my freinds.

But ya know what? It struck me as I was sitting there in that stinky gymnasium tearing up over pictures of kids that I dont even know- I'm happy with the way life is turning out. Not all days feel "happy", not all relationships are free of drama, I don't always know what to do as a parent, it doesnt always feel easy. Okay it rarely feels easy! But I am at a point in my life where I can look backwards with fondness and I can look forward with hope- and I can thank my God for where He's planted my feet right now, today. Wasn't it Paul who said, "I've learned how to abase and how to abound."? So whether today is a 'peak' kind of a day or a 'pit' kind of a day, it's still a day I've been given. What will I do with it?

Well Would'nt You Know...

Hello dear readers! I've missed you. Its been a busy month here at the Maxi Pad (my home) I know. Its a terrible thing to name a home. But like most jokes that stick, its slightly inapropriate and equally catchy. Im not even sure how it got started actually, considering there are an equal number of males and females living in our house. I think it traces back to Ladies Night. Not "going out" like most savvy chicks in their twenties probably do. No, we'd get in our sweats, eat desserts, and watch the Batchelor. Terribly wild of us, isnt it? Anyway, long story short, that's how nicknaming my home "the Maxi Pad" got started and this is where talking about it ends.

So life has been very busy this month, but I cant quite pinpoint why. Just business as usual I suppose. Big One is finishing her first year of preschool (single tear) and getting ready for her first ballet recital- all very grownup things for her little self. Im torn between pride and helplessness as I watch her turn into this independant little person. Little One is turning into quite the livewire and requiring much more of my attention as of late. The minute it gets quiet, is one minute too late to start looking for him. He's all dimples and innocence until he makes up his mind to be naughty. The closer we get to 2, the more I savor the days of sweetness and simplicity with him. I know they are numbered. Husband and I managed to sneak in a mini-break away together last weekend, which was lovely. There's nothing like waking up and realizing that I can shamelessly lie in bed for twenty minutes before getting up because no one needs me! Glorious. We enjoyed peaceful, leisurely meals, staying up late and sleeping in, and hours of bonding time in the car. We've been mulling over some decisions lately, and we were able to make some real progress towards that end. We always seem to get some of our best talking done in the car. Dont know why, something about the open road I guess.

In other news: I FINALLY, lost a few pounds! I recently shared my descent into fatness with you all (because you're the gracious and encouraging type) in my "For Realsies" post. I got myself into a funk and I've spent the past month spinning my wheels. I have been working out, eating clean, and that stupid scale was not budging. It could have something to do with the fact that (TMI alert) I started taking birth control pills again this month. Hopefully that's not an overshare. And if it is...too late! Im pretty sure it's contributed to at least 5 of my "extra" pounds. Blurg. 

So one whole month of these shenanigans and no real progress! So frustrating. Then my dvd player broke so I havent been able to do my P90X videos for a little over a week. Well would'nt you know, one week of not working out and even cheating a little with my diet, and I lost FIVE pounds! In one week! What the what?! I dont get it, but I am just going to be thankful and keep plugging away. Its tempting to test this theory further and see if I can do it again for another week, but something tells me that's not wise. It probably would just end up with me indulging my way back to the number I started from. The number that shall forever remain shrouded in mystery, rather than ever be spoken aloud.
Would'nt you know.

The B Word

     Budget.

     This is generally when people flinch and suck air through their teeth, practicaly hissing and turning away in a distasteful manner. As if to shake it off. At least that's how I reacted when Husband dropped the B word on me a few months ago. There's an undeniable stigma attached to the B word.  Not only because finances are something of such a deeply personal nature that it verges on taboo to discuss, but also because the word itself almost carries a negative connotation. BUDGET. Blech.
     For me, it conjured up visions of raggedy children with dirt smudged cheeks, and a doggedly tired husband who doles out an allowance to old wifey at the end of the day- you know, for toilet paper and milk and terribly boring yet necessary things of that nature. That's awful, I know. But its really what hovers in the back of my mind upon mention of the B word. Or did, rather.
     But I suppose a budget is whatever you make it. And its whatever you make OF it, if you get right down to brass tacks. It's taken me a few months but Im actually making freinds with our budget. Playing nice. Almost even embracing it.  In fact, now that we have "budgeted" our lives, I daresay we may never turn back! The bit I've found pleasantly surprising is the freedom in a budget. There are no guilty purchases, no chunks of money "slipping through the cracks" so to speak, with no guess as to where it wound up or what it went towards. Which,(sidetrip warning!) now that I think about it, is probably why I have grown to enjoy budgeting. If for no other reason than the organizational element! Its all there, laid out and compartmentalized. And if there's one thing that I thrive on, its being neat and tidy. Sounds pretty lame, huh? But as one of my girlfriends once told me "Ya know what?! I like the fact that your face blushes and that I could eat off of your kitchen floor!". We are who we are, yes? No sense fussing over the things that will never change.- But back to the B word. Where were we?  Oh yes, the freedom! I rather enjoy it! If I know we have set aside X amount of money for groceries, bills, dining out, clothes shopping, birthday presents, etc etc etc- its a more tranquil feeling when I throw down the card or swipe it through the machine at the end of a transaction. I can swipe away with total peace of mind. Ha, in your face, budget!

    At the same token,  I have found it to be tricky at times. I can't lie. It was an adjustment. Husband and I sat down at the beginning of the year and set some goals. Some lofty, some smaller scale. We decided that it was time to get proactive and intentional about our finances- particularly saving. Maybe it comes with the territory when you're married to a financial advisor, but I have to say, Husband was right. We were spending money where sometimes we shouldnt. Not in a frivolous way, but more of a ...neglectful (for lack of a better word) way? We just werent always paying attention. Ok FINE.  Mostly me.
And time is sort of a relentless buggar, so month after month passes without much notice and its easy not to reach our financial goals. Whatever they may be. Save. Pay off debts. Buy a home. Put away for the kids. Save more. LOL.My list could be a mile long. There never seems to be a shortage of uses for money, right? Just a shortage OF it sometimes.

     As I said, it has been an adjustment, but surprisingly, not a hard one. I have actually gotten much more cost-effective in my grocery shopping. I FINALLY starting making some sort of a meal plan for the week before I went to the grocery store, which I never used to do. I'd just mosey along the aisles and, with a basic knowledge of my usual necessities, I'd pretty much grab whatever struck my fancy. This usually resulted in a pantry stocked with 27 cans of olives (not that you can ever have too many black olives if you ask me though), 10 jars of marinara, innumerable amounts of chicken broth and white wine for cooking, enough pasta in every shape to feed a small army, and an odd assortment of ethnic foods "just in case Im in the mood for thai".  Yet somehow if I was looking for garbanzo beans or chili paste or something more specific I never seemed to have it.  Being armed with a plan has not only cleaned up my pantry, but taken the panic out of the daily decision of what to make for dinner.

     Like I said, a budget really is whatever you make it. Its personalized. Every family has different needs, goals, and spending habits. Our has been a little different each month because of holidays, moves, trips, and the like. We still eat out and shop(although not as much as I used to) and go to the movies and do fun stuff with the kids. We have made small sacrifices (i.e. gym membership. Awe, shucks!) and changed some habits, but we have also lived life normally and still had fun and not felt deprived or stifled by our budget. More importantly, we have made strides in meeting our goals. We have saved! Next stop, dream house? How's that for lofty? :)

     Cheers to the B word.

For Realsies

  Well, there's nothing like a little incentive to get a lady dragging her butt out of bed at the ungodly hour of 5:45 am to sweat and pseudo-curse her way through another one of Tony Horton's stupid dumb P90X workouts. And by "stupid dumb" I mean "effective and necessary". It works. It does work. But oh, I hate it. I REALLY hate it the first week. By week 3 I've usually found my stride and actually look forward to my workouts as a little golden nugget of alone time. Ah, the life of a mom, yes? Always mutlitasking. As if its not a complete oxymoron to count the 1.25 hours I spend leaving blood, sweat, and tears on my living room floor (ok fine, not blood) as my sacred "peace and quiet" time as well, then I dont know what is.

  But its the way it goes. I have tried doing the workouts at different points in the day, all to no avail. Both of my children find it much too fascinating to watch me crucify myself trying to keep up with these...these FREAKS OF NATURE on the dvd's, to mind their own business. Bigger One tries to do it with me (and corrects my form more than I'd prefer) while Littler One sits on me or throws his football at my face while I try to do sit ups. They are all innocence and good intentions, but needless to say, there are a lot of distractions and not a lot of floor space. So that leaves me with naptime. The only problem there, is that Bigger One's naps have gotten shorter and shorter and are nigh on extinction these days. Im trying to milk one more year out of naptime. Plus I like to grab that 30-45 minutes to read a little of my favorite book (Outlander series, since you ask. Read it. Do it. Think danger+history+love+war+sex+ suspence+ James Fraser. Nuff said) Ah, but I digress. Oh yes. Or I use that time to start cooking dinner, or to pick up, or to just sit in a quiet room all by myself. Which is lovely to do every once in a while.

  So there have been bumps in the road. I have missed workouts, or abandoned workouts halfway through because there is just too much going on in the house. I have been sick again and missed two whole weeks altogether.I have been stressed. And to add insult to injury, I tend to gain weight when I am stressed out. I have eaten a lot of....well...everything. I am a person to loves good food. I love to cook it and I love to eat it. I am the type who works out to eat. Its not the sort of thing you're supposed to admit, but its true. If I work out, I can ALMOST eat whatever I want. Within reason. If I dont work out, well...there's always that trusty old 5-7 (or in this case more) pounds that likes to take up residence on my hindquarters.

  Its time to call a spade, a spade. I let the ball drop. Blurg. I've been half-assing my workouts and making bad food choices- a combo I can no longer get away with. So this morning I decided it was time to scare myself straight on the scale. I stepped on (always before breakfast and naked, mind. As if that really helps), and gingerly opened one eye with trepidation to look down at the number. And then I jumped off of it like it was covered in burning coals. Step back on. Try again. Its that same obnoxious number. "WHAT THE WHAT?! How did this happen so fast?" Its bad, people. Its real bad. Its worse than I thought. I have gained a whopping ten pounds. This sucks. All the nice people in the world will say that muscle weighs more than fat and working out could account for that. I say- hogwash. I know its not all muscle. Its not ten pounds of new, sinewy, lean muscle. Its maybe 4 pounds of muscle (if Im being generous. And I am.) and 6 pounds of fat. That's like a sack of potatoes! The number on the scale this morning (of which we will never speak of) was a proverbial smack in the face. A wake up call. Consider me scared straight.

  I dont even normally write about this kind of stuff because I generally subscribe to the idea that most people dont really care, and even if they do, they maybe dont want to hear about it- it tends to sound obnoxious. And I DEFINITELY dont know why I only write about it when Im sucking at it. But for the sake of comraderie, the intent of getting back on track, and in the hopes of a little encouragement, Im calling myself out on the carpet. Literally.

  I mentioned incentive earlier. I do have that! In four months, I will be relaxing on the beach in the Bahamas with Husband, and I want to FEEL GOOD. Not chubby. So if it means I have to stock up on things like quinoa, fruit & veggies, egg whites, those silly little paper thin sandwich "rolls" (Pshaw! Rolls. Hardly.)  and enough salad to choke a horse, so be it. If I have to take it easy on the pasta for a month or two I could maybe even agree to that. I could EVEN workout early in the morning or late at night. Because its worth it to feel fit. As I've said before (here), it just does something for your mojo. I know what it feels like to be happy and comfortable in my own skin, and I know what it feels like to be pitifully off my game. I much prefer happy and comfortable.  So Im not going to make any outlandish proclamations about losing all ten pounds in five minutes. Im not going to cut corners. Im just going to get right back on track. And Im really going to try to stay positive and not assume its a drag to eat healthy. So if any of you have any fabulous healthy recipes, do share. Here goes. For realsies.

Ahh Yeeeah

If my life were a movie, this would be the part where the music reaches a crescendo, accompanied by a joyous slow-mo reel. Naturally, there's a flash mob as well, along with confetti and a small marching band playing Journey's 'Dont Stop Believing'. (Dontcha just love Journey?!)

We got it! We got our trip! Cliffhanger, Shmiffhanger. In the end, justice was served up on a platter, and under the silver lid was two tickets to the Bahamas. Me likey. For a second I was bummed that we were not able to sign up in time for any of the Europe trips. They filled up first, naturally. But then I realized that not knowing which vacation to choose is a luxury problem and that it's totally bratty to be anything less than thrilled. Which I genuinely am. We get to go to Paradise Island, Bahamas! An all expense paid, child-free- anniversary trip to the Bahamas! How rad is THAT?  "Paradise Island" sounds like it will suit me quite nicely.
We just nailed it down today and Im still semi- beside myself. We just dont DO this kind of thing normally. Other than the last trip we earned last year, Husband and I hadnt been a proper vacation since our honeymoon 8 years ago.  And while it gives me a stomach ache to leave my kids for a whole week, it was absolutely blissful. It was one of those things where you dont know how badly you need to relax until you actually do fully relax. I THOUGHT I was relaxed on the first day. But then by the second day I quit tensing every time I heard a kid whining or needing something because I remembered that it wasnt MY kid. Then by the third day I started laughing and really enjoying myself. And somewhere around the 4th day Husband and I remembered that THIS was what it feels like to really connect and enjoy each other's company with no distractions.

Maybe this time it wont take me 3 whole days to decompress. Im still new to this vacation business, after all. August is still a few months away but that's okay. Its good to have something to look forward to. Now about dusting off my bikinis....Blurg. Not ready for that yet. Have you seen those commercials for the pajama jeans? (Im laughing really hard right now, please tell me you all have seen that commercial?) Maybe they make bikini jeans. LOL. Nah, bad plan. I have two words for how I would look in that contraption: STUFFED SAUSAGE. Maybe a few more months is a good thing...

I Think Seth and Amy Put it Best When They Said "REALLY?!"

Its like we went from feeling like Rocky at the top of the stairs to....to...Gollum without the ring. We were THIS close. Even closer than THIS close. We had it! We had it in the bag! I could almost see the cobblestone streets of Italy, almost smell the breeze over the riviera, almost taste all the wine and chocolate. I dont know what happened!

It was such a cliffhanger to begin with.  All month, waiting on baited breath to see if we'd qualify for a vacation. After all, it is no small thing, and not easy to do.  Its actually part of the compensation for Husband's job. (Turns out being a desk jockey as a financial advisor really does have its perks!) Every six months you have an opportunity to qualify for an all expense paid vacation. Its all rather complicated and boring, but it has to do with $ earned, and categories met. (You have to fill 4 out of 8 categories). If you qualify, you get to choose out of a booklet of about 20 or so trips. Amazing trips. All over the world! Ireland, Spain, Italy, Paris, Japan, Carribean, Egypt,Bora Bora, New Zealand, cruises, and then there are always a few random lame (by comparison anyways. No vacation is lame in my eyes) trips to like Tuscon, or Boston, or Napa Valley. I suppose some people really would choose that, but personally, I see no contest. We've earned one trip before (Riviera Maya), and it was glorious. (On hectic days, I still close my eyes and pretend to be back on the white bed on the beach. It almost works.  Almost.)

Anyway, March was our last qualifying month for this section of trips, and the odds were stacked against us. We needed a big amount of $ earned in a short amount of time, as well as missing useful days in the office to travel for corporate stuff in Az. And yes, Im sticking with the phrase "corporate stuff". Trust me, its all really boring. I will risk sounding like an ignoramous to spare you the details. Your welcome.  It was quite the cliffhanger all month, but he did it! Husband, in all his studliness and perserverance, pulled out all the stops, and met all the requirements to earn a trip. By the hair of his chinny chin chin, too. It was the last possible day of the last possible month that he qualified. Just had to make sure all the I's were dotted and the T's were crossed. Ah. There. Right there. So that's what it'll be then? A tiny, minor, hardly noticeable detail that would derail our chances? YES. Blurg does not even begin to put it into words. Double Blurg doesnt even cover it. As (bad) luck would have it, there was some small snaffoo, and a wrong box was checked, a small computer glitch happened, $ was accredited to the wrong category, some teeny tiny error that just HAPPENED, as those things do happen. So a category that we, in reality, exceeded by hundreds of dollars, appeared to fall short by 70 dollars. SEVENTY dollars. Out of thousands. I feel like Im in a "REALLY?!" by Seth and Amy sketch! (Meyers and Poehler. But I assume that's understood?) "REALLY?! Seventy dollars? Out of thousands? REALLY?!"


But, there is still a shred of hope. The selling month is over, but the ship has not yet left the docks.  The mistake that was made was not quite Husband's, and not quite corporate's, but mostly just one of those things that slips through the cracks. These things are somewhat common as it turns out, and there is a board that reviews these exact kind of situations and can approve or deny vacations as they see fit. Only problem is that the board doesnt meet until a month from now, and the trips are all filled on a first-come/ first-serve basis. Those who qualify earliest, get to pick their trip first and so on down the line. The last group of qualifiers pick their trip in two weeks. So maybe we will still get a vacation. And MAYBE there will still be some cool destinations available. And MAYBE, we wont get stuck with Tuscon or Huntington Beach or  worse, nothing at all.

Ah, it is what it is, yes? There are always more trips. I am still proud of all of Husbands valiant and impressive efforts. He killed it last month! Whatever will be, will be, as they say. Italy will always be there, right? To borrow a quote from an earlier post (Vay. Cay. Shun.), "Its good to have something to look forward to. But its also good, even when you dont, to realize your life is still blessed."
And my life is still good. Italy, or no.

Fingers crossed!

A Little Something I Like to Call "Terrific Lady Day"

Stop the presses. Husband has chosen (of his own free will) to forego playing basketball with the guys today and go shopping with me. Lets pause here for a minute and appreciate the gravity of that statement. This is no small sacrifice for him, as he was just saying to me last week how he was craving some basketball time with the boys. AND considering that its shopping he's agreed to. As in, walking around a mall, looking at clothes, trying things on- for like, HOURS. This has not happened since the early days. The dating and early-marriage days when he would happily oblige my desires to mosey around a mall or department store. Then it slowly changed from happily obliging me to humoring me every so often by tagging along. And then it ultimately graduated to "woman, have you lost your mind?". (He doesnt actually refer to me as "woman", but you get my drift).
And its okay, really. Its not his cup of tea. He'd rather be fishing or hunting or playing golf or doing something active out in nature. And we all know being active isnt exactly MY cup of tea. So for 8 years we've done what all married couples do, and balanced (or tried to balance) the usual give and take that's required in a marriage. Sometimes trading off doing the things we actually enjoy for doing the things every now and again that really, if we're honest, would make us prefer to stick dull toothpicks in our eyes, but we do them regardless because it makes the other person happy. Not that we dont enjoy some of the same things- we do, but we dont do everything together. I mean, lets all be real here. Ya gotta know when to cut and run. Which for me, is usually when he goes fishing. I tried it a few times. My dad had a boat growing up and that suited me fine. I could sit and enjoy th scenery,  and they could fish. That I can enjoy. Its the standing-on-the-riverbank business I dont care for. I think the last time I tagged along was about 5 years ago when I was pregnant with our daughter. Husband took me to some rocky cliff over the river, perched me on about 1 square foot of rock space that he deemed "perfectly safe", where I teetered for the next hour in a chair that, lets all face it, was no match for my heaving pregnant self. It didnt collapse, but I doubt that flimsy little camping chair has ever worked so hard. And that's where I sat working up a sweat and slowly cooking like a dumpling in the sun for the next hour and a half. But it made him happy.

I dont know what made him decide to go with me today, but Im not going to ask any questions. Maybe all the stars and planets aligned, or maybe he's undergone some fundamental change and he actually likes shopping now...or maybe he's suffered some major blow to the head. All I know is that aside from annual holiday shopping,  this only happens about once every couple of years and so I intend to enjoy it thoroughly. A whole day of leisurely shopping with Husband, maybe lunch, or break it up a little with a movie- After all, I AM human, I DO have a soul, and dont intend on torchuring him all the live long day. He's even promised not to drop the usual ten glum paces behind me  (a strange phenomenon that happens upon walking into any store regardless of its nature) pouting the whole time! Its looking up ladies. Long live Terrific Lady Day!

"We've Got a Bleeder!"

Its my ears. Are they bleeding? Is there actual blood dripping out of them yet? The problem is that Husband has been gone for three days and so I've suffered the brunt of it alone. All alone. The mind-numbing barrage of words. The sheer relentlessnes of the rapid-fire questions, one after another after another with hardly a pause for breath, seering into my brain like intruding bullets.

The car is the hardest. Its like you're trapped. Yesterday I was in the car with the kids for about 2 hours altogether. 7 minutes of that time was quiet. I am not exaggerating. I've tried turning on music but that doesnt work. My ipod is no match for her. She just talks over it.

"Do I have to take a nap when I get home?" "If I do have to take a nap, can I watch a half of a cartoon first?" "Can you put Jaxon asleep before me?" "Why do I have to take a nap?" "Can I sleep on my princess couch instead of my bed?" "Why not?" "Im hungry, I think I need a snack first" "Can I have a chococlate granola bar?" "Why not?!" "Is it healthy?" "If I dont have a granola bar, what can I have?" "Can I have gum?" "Are coyotes mean?" "Do they bite?" "I think bears and coyotes and lions and sharks and turkeys are all mean and they bite but dogs and cats are nice." (2 seconds to catch breath) "Actually some dogs and cats are not nice?" "We always be careful about dogs and cats that we dont know because they might be mean." "How do you know if they're mean?" "Remember Grannie Annie's cat?" "What was his name?" "I fed him a treat and he was nice." "But Aunt Cyndee's cat was not nice. Rango. No, wait, Ringo."(Incidentally Aunt Cyndee does not have a cat named Ringo or Rango. Im sure someone we know does. Aunt Cyndee has a dog. Named Blue. But that's all besides the point- much like her whole train of thought) "So mommy, how is your day?" "Where are we going?" "I dont think you're going the right way." "Do we need gas?" "Can a car pop if you put too much gas in it?" "What if the guy just kept putting more and more and more gas in and the whole car literry (literally) just popped?" "Has that ever happened to you when you were little mom?" "Was I in your tummy when I was 2?" "Remember when I was a baby and I used to eat baby food?" "Remember that?" (half a second to catch breath) "Do pandas live in China or Africa?" "Do the kids in Africa not even have new toys mommy?" "When you were little did you go to the North Pole?" "Do ocutopus' sting?"
All of that literally takes only about 75 seconds for her to say. I can hardly keep up. While she is just finding her rythm, Im starting to go crosseyed!  I have learned to pick and choose my answers carefully because often one simple answer leads into 79 more questions, about half of which I will have a good answer for.

 *Pause*

...I get it....I am not the first person to ever have a child that talks them into a tailspin. Am I complaining? No, not really. I can appreciate it for what it is and see the cuteness factor in it. I suppose I find it to be equal parts endearing and exasperating. And Im glad I have a daughter with an ever-inquisitive, precocious mind. Really. But SOME DAYS, the dull ache behind my eyes starts even before I've brushed my teeth in the morning. Do I wish she was anything other than who she is? No, of course not. Do I wish I had more patience? More resiliance? More answers? YES! It makes me chuckle, because she's always been this way. She was talking well before she was 1, and talking WELL by the time she was 2. In fact, even in the delivery room and during our whole stay in the hospital there was no peace, no quiet. Spitfire from birth. Ah, I suppose its only fitting. In this very blog (Dont Fight The Funk post) I have said that I, myself, often worry that I've said too much. That Im a blurter.That I will never be one of those peripheral people who quietly take it all in and never let it out. I did say all that, didnt I. Oh dear.

 So it's a fine line I walk every day (and sometimes zigzag back and forth across)- trying to cultivate her little mind, and engage her in coversation, trying to make her feel heard and not disregarded. All the while trying to reign it in and guide it, otherwise, whatever the conversation, she's going to take that bull by the horns and steer it in whatever direction she fancies! Knowing when to really listen and when to shoosh (because lets all be real here, shooshing is fully necessary sometimes)  Its like she's a derailed caboose and we have to keep circling back around and re-attaching her to the train of thought. (pun intended) (And by the way, when is pun ever NOT intended? Whenever people say "no pun intended" there most definitely IS almost always "pun intended")
 We're trying to teach her not to interrupt, or to talk over people. Thats a big one we're working on at the moment. She's figured out that if she just talks louder that she can still get it all out regardless of whomever else might be attempting to get a word in edgewise. Moment of Honesty?: I keep catching myself getting in these climactic conversations with her where she is talking louder, then Im talking louder trying to be heard, then she's a notch higher trying to be heard, and then next thing I know Im practically shrieking "PLEASE TALK QUIETER OR YOU'RE GOING TO WAKE UP THE BABY!"...Right. Oops. I forgot to mention aside from the amount of talking, she has one volume. And its loud.

 Then I  have one of those smacking-your-palm-to-your-forehead moments, and remember that I am the boss. This small little person is 4 and I am 29. And granted, she may be a force to be reckoned with, but I do not need to get sucked into a 20 minute volley of words that leaves me in frenzied state! She's good at it too, because its not usually direct defiance, or even ornoriness in general, but more like a subtle sidestepping of the point (my point). She is quite old enough to grasp the concept of being quiet when need be. Of listening to me when I am talking. Of simply doing what I ask of her without voicing and re-voicing multiple opinions about it. Ah, getting tricky now, isnt it? Balancing the requirement  of obedience and respect (WITH a good attitude! minor yet huge clause), while nurturing and guiding, AND teaching? What is the best way to let them be who they are and yet mold them into what they should be?- (civilized and polite human beings) Because really, isnt that basically our whole job as parents?  I do think a kid is allowed to be a kid- and sometimes that means they are loud, and sometimes they cause a ruckus, and sometimes they have lots of questions. And that's okay!
But My Lanta! What's a lady gotta do to get some peace and quiet?

I Think Ace Ventura Put it Best When He Said "Find a Happy Place!"

Its all fun and games until one of them starts flinging poo. Oh yes. Welcome to my day. Come join me. Bask with me in the mayhem. "Give in to the power of the tea" if you will. (bonus points for readers who can name that movie). (Actually, double bonus points. Because Name That Movie is my favorite game ever. Second only to "Remember When...")

I think I felt it coming before I even opened my eyes this morning. Trouble. As if the only word I could clearly see forming on the foggy horizon of my brain was already going to be "BLURG".  Do you ever wake up so early that you feel nauseous? Like your body is so tired its literally rejecting wakefulness? Happens to me all the time. I think this might be part of why I hate breakfast so much. Its the only time of day you will catch me wishing for sleep over food.

I think I had a bad dream too. I've been reading a lot lately and both the books Im reading melded into one bizarre dream involving a heap of dead wolves with yellow eyes, (shudder), a rugged Scotsman (yes please),  and a troubling impression that I was grinding my teeth into gravel inside my own head (I actually do grind my teeth so this wasnt too far off). Suffice it to say, that I had a furrow in my brow before I even made it off of my pillow this morning. Both of my little darlings seemed to wake up on the wrong side of the bed as well, because before breakfast was over, there were two altercations between siblings,  one spill, followed by tears, followed by whining, followed by me snapping at my daughter over her highly dramatic display. Dangit. Not even 8:00 yet and I've already lost my cool. Deep breath. Apologize for being snappy, while trying to simultaneously squeeze in a lesson about attitudes of the heart. Only semi succesful in getting point across. She was pretty busy with her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and he just grins blankly at me every time I talk anyways, regardless of what Im saying. (which I secretly love).

And so it went for the next few hours. Rushing to get us all showered, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and out the door.(With no lack of battles over each one of those things)  Drop off at school, run errands, pick up from school, try to keep 1 year old happy and quiet as I try to be productive... Fail. Decide its a good idea to bundle up and head outside in the backyard for some good old fashioned fun. Enjoy approximately 4.5 minutes of delight, playing with my children, blowing and popping bubbles until Littler One spills Bigger One's bubbles. While I console Bigger One over the loss of her new bubbles and remind her to be gracious and forgiving with Littler One, and grab a towel to start mopping up  the sticky mess, I turn around just in time to see it. Littler One. Holding a poop. My dog's poop. Oh dear God.

After I shrieked, scolded Buster the dog (not that it was his fault. Hey, everybody poops), disinfected, scoured, and scrubbed up my son, called it quits with the bubbles, tried to make dinner amid seventeen interruptions regarding snacks, barbie shoes, a half eaten chapstick, and a completely emptied trash can on my kitchen floor, - after  that I decided to give it up.  It was one of those days where everything was harder than I thought it should have been. You know those days you have, as a parent, where you honestly get tired of hearing your own voice? I decided to abandon my efforts (however valiant they may be!) to force my day into something it wasnt going to be. So  I opened a diet Dr. Pepper, allowed myself one hearty eye-roll before I shooshed the "What the what?!" train of thought I felt forming in the back of my head, had a good chuckle, and  acquiesced to the funk. Sometimes ya gotta just let it be. So I took my remaining shreds of peace of mind and my diet Dr. Pepper into my daughters playhouse and let her pretend to be my mommy while Jaxon banged toy pots over my head for 20 minutes. And I daresay that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for all three of us.

Further Confessions

 5 Things.- Scratch that- 6 Things. Unabridged, self-deprecating things at that. Im not proud, but it is what it is.

- I do not know how to roller skate, ice skate, do a cartwheel (in high school, when I tried out for cheerleading I literally had to do a sommersault with spirit fingers for my 'tumbling'. It was a low point. Miraculously, I still made the team). Nor can I whistle by blowing out. Only in. And it sounds like a cat dying. You can only suck in so much air til you get lightheaded!

- SPOILER ALERT! This one is of a, um, *cough* personal nature. -I cannot hear Robin Thicke on the radio without practically wanting to throw my panties at the stereo. I do not know the actual lyrics to his songs, because all I hear is "sexy sex sex sexy sexiness" in that lovely falsetto.  Same goes for Justin Timberlake singing "Hallelujah". Chills. I get chills. Also among my musical confessions: One of my favorite songs is "The Way I Are" by Timbaland. Haha! What a gangster...

-Im not saying its super powers or anything, but my sister and I have a few random skills. She knows all the lyrics to all songs, ever. Of all time. If you are ever stumped, ask her. She will know all the words. Its mindblowing. I, on the other hand, have a rubberface. I can mimic almost any facial expression. I have one dear freind, who's favorite pastime is to choose facial expressions at random from a magazine or a movie and watch me copy them on command. Im not saying we're making the world a better place, or that we even 'use our powers for good and not evil.' (joking, Im joking! Of course we use them for good) But we might be fun to have around if you are ever bored out of your mind. I also have an... well Im just going to say it-  an impressive repertoire of movie quotes. This sounds like bragging, but I dont think it is.  

-I cannot dance. The shame! I despise this about myself. I think maybe a long time ago I could?  But I lost it. I lost my mojo. My husband is a much better dancer than I am. He loooooves to remind me of this. He knows exactly how many drinks it would take in any given situation to get me on the dance floor. Luckily I rarely drink alcohol or am near a dance floor. When I do, and I am? Stand back. Its not pretty.

-I do not know all the rules to even the most major sports. In high school I was on the bowling and cheerleading teams. I wasnt exactly Sporty Spice. I mean, Im not a complete ninny- I understand the basics of what's going on, but it ends there. For all I know, too much eye contact could be a foul, or a tickle fight could be allowed in the middle of a volleyball match... No?... Akward?

- I am not prone to doing things slowly. Vacuuming, shaving my legs, brushing my teeth, driving, talking... Even worse is when I get to doing these things rather quickly, I tend to overly focus on that one thing while the rest of my limbs start to have a mind of their own. Wierded out? Haha, I guess that one requires an explanation. When I brush my teeth, I do it so quickly and vigorously (sad news for my gums I might add), that while my right hand is hard at work, my left hand gnarls up into this arthritic little ball and suddenly I've got a claw for a left hand. Not cute. Appearantly its just too much for my body to concentrate on and I malfunction. It took me years- literally years, to train myself to shave slowly. My family called me Zorro all through high school because of the many self inflicted gaping wounds from my shaving mishaps. The very worst of which, I did on the morning of a cheearleading competition, a school dance, and a wedding, all of which I was participating in on the same day. I mean this one was a bloody massacre. I had to wear a huge bandage on my shin to all three events. It looked like a crime scene on my right leg! In short, I am a person prone to misadventures...Ah,  Bless my heart.

Bless her heart too. Looks like she inherited a little bit more than my ankles and my penchant for comedy... Her left hand is showing that she's "4". The right hand? Not so sure.

The Weight of Worry

In my recent post "An Anchor for the soul ", I shared a bit of how I've been struggling with fear. Fear of something terrible. Fear of the unknown. Fear of, I dont even know what! As if I dont have enough legitimate concerns to deal with in a day, I'm now conjuring up newly invented, undefinable concerns as well. Perfect. At least Im thorough.

While I recognize the existance of this inner struggle as of late, I feel that I have not exactly conquered it yet. Or if I have, its been only rarely and briefly. Fear is a beast! A vicious beast with its finger on my pulse, and a chokehold on my neck. (Figuratively, of course.) Its with a smirk, and a tongue-in-cheek attitude that I speak so dramatically in reference to something that actually is a bit dramatic for me. Its how I cope. So bear with me.

It just so happens that Im one week deep into a two week wait to find out if I have skin cancer. On the whole, I know that Im young and there's a good chance that I dont have melanoma. I also know there's a good chance that I do. My mom has had skin cancer more than once, and more recently, my sister was diagnosed with melanoma.  We were not blessed with porcelain skin. Its more like alabaster. The color of blue iced milk. I accepted my inability to be tan long ago, but the smattering of freckles and moles I get instead is hardly a consolation prize. So I've had a bad gut feeling about a couple of moles for over a year now, but have put off going to the dermatologist on the flimsy basis of not having the time, or not wanting to spend the money, but truthfully its been because Im just too chicken. But after my sister was diagnosed with melanoma, my cage was sufficiently rattled. It was time to quit mucking about and just grow a pair (again, figuratively, of course) and go get on a doctor's radar. So I rallied my courage and went.

After spending 30-some-odd minutes sitting alone in a room with my anxious thoughts and working up a nice cold sweat in my paper gown, the doctor didnt have much to say to ease my mind. I heard lots of  "Hmmm"s and "Tsk"s and "I dont like the look of that"s. Ultimately she cut out 3 moles to send to the lab and told me to come back in ten days to get stitches out and hold tight for two weeks until we know the results. Right. Hold tight. This is highly inconvenient to a person who's two chief weaknesses are impatience and worry.
I left the doctors office, started my car, and tried very hard to ignore the panic that I felt rising in my chest. Or at least keep it at bay. My first thought was, "Who can love my kids as fiercely as I do if I die?" I don't want to be a drama queen. I'm not a hypochondriac. Im fairly confident that the rational side of my brain in still in tact. But I do think God has a knack for pinpointing these weaknesses/fears in our hearts and drawing them to the surface every now and then. Like bile, rising up, whether you like it or not. Yet however uncomfortable it feels, and however much it makes me squirm and want to plug my ears like a little kid who actually thinks that works in warding off unpleasant news, I do believe these fears being brought to the surface and dealt with is ultimately for my own greater good.
I keep using the word "fears" in a vague sense. I suppose it boils down to a fundamental fear that something bad will happen to my children. Or that some terrible, unforseen accident will befall my husband and I, and how this will ultimately affect my tiny tenders. The thought alone makes my chest tighten, my vision blur with tears, and gives me a mild urge to dry heave.  Ironically enough though, I've found that the most theraputic way to deal with this fear is to face it head on rather than run screaming for the hills. I've thought a lot this week about what would happen if my biopsy came back positive for cancer. Odds are they'd go back in, cut it all out, stitch me up, and I'd carry on perfectly fine with only another scar to add to my collection. But what if that werent the case? What if I actually died? (hey, I warned you to bear with me!) What if I actually died of skin cancer? What then? Do I still believe that God is good? Do I still believe that He loves me and has a more perfect plan for my life? A plan that trumps my own? Do I believe that He loves my husband and each of my children infinitely more than I even could? Well,yes... I guess I do. I couldnt abandon any of those beliefs even if I wanted to. "I just know in my knower"(as my mom used to say), that He does. So whaddayagonnado? Im still "in it". I dont have a nicely packaged little antecdote to come out the other side of my head trip with. I do know one thing though: Fear is a beast I need not wrestle with. Because if I truly trust in my God, if I have a big enough measure of faith, then I can have a real peace that passes understanding. I heard once that the single most repeated instruction from God in the bible is "Fear not." 2 Timothy 1:7 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind". God is never the source of my inner turbulence. We are imperfect people living in an imperfect world. His grace and peace are intensified not in spite of, but because of my personal trials. Every verse I've read in the past week has said things like "Take courage", "Be still, be calm" "Dont be afraid" "Find solitude" and "Recognize my hand in this"...

I read about David and Goliath. David slew the lion and the bear, and having thus developed courage, he moved unflinchingly to confront the giant Philistine. It was in this area of courage that he was above his fellows. Quiet faith had its moment of open revelation. Building faith in the lesser challenges will be a delivering angel in the most calamitous moment.
SO. Skin cancer or no skin cancer, I'll be okay.  The weight of worry can rob me of peace and joy just as easily as any hardship I may face. So why bother with it, really?