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.

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.

"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 Thing with Dinner...

Moms out there: What IS IT with dinner?
Breakfast is smooth. I make the food, they eat the food. Easy, done. Lunch is pleasant. What is it about dinner in particular that something always seems to go awry? It's like the witching hour! Does this happen to you guys out there?

I enjoy cooking and maybe I even take it a bit ...well, personally. I put my heart into cooking for my family. (Okay, fine, not every SINGLE night. But most nights) Im not playing the martyr here, like I slave over the stove for hours a day at a thankless, drudgery-filled job. That's not my plight. My husband almost always says thank you after eating dinner and I actually cook because I enjoy it. Its just that after I've spent a considerable amount of time and effort in the kitchen making a meal, I have high hopes and possibly misplaced expections of the dinner hour itself. Its not actually even an hour, it takes anywhere for 30-60 minutes to make the food, but the actual eating takes only about 15 or 20 minutes. And while visions fill my head of my smiling family scooting up to the table, eating and enjoying the food, meanwhile engaging in pleasant, harmonious conversation- the breakdown of what really happens during that 15 or 20 minutes is a far cry. A far cry, people! Something is lost in translation from my ideals and my reality.

Every single night at dinner at least 3 of these 5 things will happen:
1) I will announce dinner is ready and proceed to call everyone to the table...about 5 times. This, I will confess is a total pet peeve. So much lollygagging! Does no one want the food to still be hot?
2) By the time we get both kids' food cut up, any hidden tomatos, onions, or other suspicious looking veg removed and sit down to eat ourselves, my 1 year old son has already finished everything on his tray, is now bored, and proceeds to either smash or throw any remnants of food anywhere he can reach. This is usually accompanied by lots of yelling and grunting.
3) And this one is always a guarantee- my 4 year old daughter is devastated by whatever happens to land on her plate that night. She simply cannot be bothered by food. She would survive on air and saliva if I allowed it. So this of course necessitates a whole lot of coaxing, enforcing, disciplining, etc. Shute, I'd do cartwheels across the table if it would get her to eat of her own free will.
4) All conversations, trains of thought, and unfinshed sentences are abandoned somewhere around mid-meal. Its either eat your own food while its still somewhat warm, or try and remember "what was it we were saying again?"
5) The 1 year old in the highchair has long been done, bored, and pacified beyond what he is in the mood for, and is now trying to make his great escape by jumping out of his highchair. Thank God he's never been successful in this yet, but it almost gives me a heart attack every time he tries.
By the time all is said and done, messes cleaned, dishes cleared, and the dust settles, Im pooped! It feels like a 3 ring circus some nights! Now I will say this: there are lots of great moments too. Bella usually says something offbeat and funny at least once. It may be less than peaceful at times, but we are all still seated together at the table having a family dinner, and that's a good thing. Jaxon is a rowdy little guy, but he is easily pleased and will eat anything I put in front of him. This thrills me.
I know it has much to do with the ages my kids are at, and it wont always feel like so much work. I was pondering this tonight as we ran (literally ran) Jaxon straight from the highchair to the bathtub. I was watching the two of them play and squeal while I soaped up their hair and their rosy cherub cheeks and pot bellies.  I dont want to wish these stages away. It can be a lot more work when they're this little, but its still simple. They need me (and I need them). They are still eager to please and to snuggle and they dont have a care in the world. They infuse my life with laughter and joy. The purest kind of joy. Like when my daughter touches my cheek and tells me Im the best mommy and she loves me "all the way to the moon and back down to the dirt and the flowers". Or when my son laughs his raspy little belly laugh. You just cant beat that. One day they'll be moody teenagers and granted, they'll be a tad more civilized at the dinner table, but it'll be a whole new ballgame by then.
I have learned a few helpful tricks along the way for in the meantime. Such as, BE PREPARED! As long as I have little pieces of food to keep shoveling onto his tray, my son is happy. This also goes for restaraunts.  A little snack, a little coloring book, a game of "I Spy"- they go a long way. And a timer has worked wonders in our household in getting my daughter to eat. If she really isnt eating at all, we put a timer on for 15 minutes. She is so mortified by the mere idea of the timer, that she instantly starts to eat. Victory!
Someday maybe we'll reach that holy grail of all eating while our food is still hot, with no battles, while bonding over a bowl of pasta. Until then, I'll just be happy that we're still bonding. So what if there's spaghetti on the ceiling.

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.