Cuckoo

Ugh.  I'm doing it again...I have so many thoughts jumping around in my head...there are so many things happening.  Yet I sit down, start a post to share my thoughts or feelings and then I get stuck.  My words suddenly make no sense...my initial concept just isn't being communicated.  It's so frustrating. 

I need this venue.  It helps clear my head, organize my thoughts, and reinforces my sanity.  Yet I can't seem to effectively write a coherent sentence.  I think it's a vicious cycle.  Too many thoughts are overwhelming so when I sit down for my "therapy" everything sort of falls out in crazy and chaotic ways. 

Yet I have to keep trying.  It's important.  I don't want to let another year go by without sharing anything.  I'll go crazy. 

Take your "child" to work day

As I was leaving for work yesterday morning, I went around giving hugs and kisses to my boys.  Alex decided he wanted me to bring him with me to work but knew instantly that that wasn't happening because he had school (among other reasons).  He ran into his room, and handed me "blue bear".  He said, "Mama, this is Alex...he'll be me so you can have me with you today".

So I brought him to work with me.  He rode into work on the front seat (what a PRIVILEGE that was!)

"Alex" was keeping my schedule

Then I decided to put him to work.  As I went about my day, I took photos of "Alex" doing office duty stuff and sent a couple of them to Dave to show Alex.

He answered a few phone calls

Then took a short coffee break

Then I assigned him my newest grant and he got down to writing.

We broke for lunch...

Then I had him make a few copies.

I walked away for a MINUTE and what do I come back to?  He's on FACEBOOK!  Shame on you, "Alex".

It was fun to have a reminder of Alex with me all day at work.  When I got out of work and met Dave in the parking lot to exchange the real Alex, I gave him Blue Bear and he got to snuggle with him while he napped all the way home.

Branching out

I downloaded this app months ago that supposedly lets me write and post to my blog right from my phone.  So tonight I thought I'd try it out...

I want to share a couple photos (from my phone) to test that out, too.  So bear with me...if this works you may just hear from me with increased regularity!

Just Write.

I am not perfect.

(In fact, I am FAR from perfect.)

I am my own worst enemy.

I am my harshest critic.

For as easy going, flexible and forgiving as I can be…I very seldom award myself those same liberties.

I tend to be a perfectionist…at least when it comes to me, and my expectations of me.

I have big ideas...deep thoughts. And when those ideas or thoughts or feelings don’t seem perfect (or complete or logical or coherent), I keep them to myself.

That’s partially why I’ve missed (THREE +!) days on my NaBloPoMo goal for this month. It goes like this...I sit down to write, the weight of my obligation heavy on my mind. Clouding my thoughts. Suddenly it feels too hard, too much like a duty or a chore that I don’t want to “mess up” or “do wrong”. I worry instead that my thoughts are not complete or profound or even worth sharing. And so I don’t share them. And in not doing so, I've failed. At least in my eyes.

This is the vicious cycle of my life.


Sure...I would love to let loose. Lighten up. Give myself some freedom to just be me. Not the me I wish I was, or the me other people want or believe me to be. Just me. Just the way I am. Imperfect. Distractible. Unorganized. Conflicted. But also loyal, loving. Friendly and fun.

So I will try…to just be. Just write. Just share. Without too much over thinking or perfectionism. Don’t expect anything too deep or weighty, philosophical, insightful, or life-changing. I’ll leave that to people you find here, or here, or here. In trying to be perfect, I’m missing out on the chance to just live. And to capture that living here. Not in a picture perfect way I wish it could be/would be…but simply how it is. Real. Messy. And truly beautiful.

Nothing

All day long words circle in my head.

I swim among the many ideas that bounce around and fall into seemingly perfect sentences.

Each carefully constructed thought makes me smile.  I repeat it over and over again in my mind.  Vowing to remember it just as I've planned it in my head.

Hours later I finally get a minute to sit down in front of my computer.  A quiet moment, uninterrupted by demands, responsibilities, constant requests, and duties.  Finally a chance for those words to find their way to the white screen to become permanent and real.

Then, NOTHING.

Suddenly, without warning, I reach into my brain for those words.  I search for the magic I created so deliberately just hours earlier...only to find nothing.  No words.  No ideas.  Not even a flicker of remembrance for what topic it was I had spoken so eloquently of.

So I am forced to share that instead.  The nothing that robs me of my creativity.  That void in my thoughts that replaces my original intentions.

Until tomorrow, when the words swarm, the thoughts mingle, and the sentences form once again.  (Hopefully with better luck to last long enough to make it here.)  Until then, I leave you with this.

Nothing.

Sucking

Well, day three and I'm already sucking at this NaBloPoMo goal of mine.  (I missed yesterday, in case you weren't keeping track).  Oh well, at least I'm still trying, right?

Today was a busy day.  (as was yesterday, thus the reason I didn't get on here...) I had our very first craft sale to represent PokeBerry Creations, the Etsy shop my sister and I have teamed up on.  It went ok.  I definitely learned a thing or two, which is good.  We made a little money and I left there with some positive feedback (which is always nice to hear!).

Afterwards the boys and I went to Leroy (with Aunt Tiff & Brie) to trick or treat in their neighborhood (yes, a little late, but they postponed it for Hurricane Sandy cleanup).  Alex whined and complained the entire time, but it was a nice treat to be able to trick or treat with Tiff/Brie.  We each usually have our own things going on Halloween night.

Tomorrow is the turkey raffle at our Fire Department.  Another busy day, another busy weekend.  But this is my life and I wouldn't trade it.

I will leave you tonight with something pretty.  Here is a (SOOC, unedited) photo I took tonight of the Leroy Falls.  So peaceful.

In the Wee Morning Hours...

It's 3 AM and I can't sleep.

I blame the cup of coffee I had at 8 o'clock...although it's probably more likely the 1,009 things I have bouncing around in my brain right now.

That's what brings me here.  To attempt a brain dump so I can go back to sleep...wish me luck!

Worry is primarily my topic of concern this evening (morning?).  Worry can be such a wasted emotion, for it doesn't solve anything yet still robs me of precious sleep and adds to my already high stress levels.

In a nutshell, my BFF has been having some mystery health issues (for someone who is the epitome of health and wellness, this is even more concerning!) - She's one of the strongest people I know so to see her "down and out" is distressing.  I wish I could swoop in, pick her up (as she always does for me) and make it all better.  I hope the recent round of testing she's had done comes back with some (positive and uplifting!) answers!

On a less dramatic note, Nate told me last night before bed that when he "swallowed spit, it hurt his neck really bad".  That has strep throat written all over it so I'm hoping for the best but expecting the worse.  I've been up three times tonight just to check on him.  I'm not sure what I'm even checking for (fever?) except that it (temporarily) puts my mind at ease so I can go back to sleep for another hour or two.  Except this time.  He's sounds asleep without a care in the world, and I'm here!  :)

Alex has also been saying his "tummy hurts" for the last day or two.  For a kid who is so tiny and eats so little, it has his father and I questioning if maybe there isn't something more there.  As my baby, I think I worry about him more anyway.

And personally, this growing older thing stinks.  I know I'm only 35, but lately I've had so many aches and pains I can't help but worry about all the "ailments" that come with age.  I've put on WAY too much weight lately (and I already had too much as it was!) and I notice a significant difference in the way my joints feel as a result.  My hips hurt, my feet hurt.  My body image is at an all time low and I need to do something but that evil cloud of depression is making it difficult to put a plan into motion.  That's a whole other post for a different day, though.

So, for now...I guess I'll go waste, er, I mean spend some time over on Pinterest.  Maybe someone has a board of ideas on how to get back to sleep before my boys get me up at 6 AM.  G'night, all!

Random Updates

Hello!  I feel like it's been forever since I actually wrote anything of substance on here.  What a whirlwind life has a way of becoming!  I thought I'd write some brief updates for anyone still reading :)

It's November.  Opening day of deer season is tomorrow (!!).  Thanksgiving is less than a week away.

Nate had the nighttime pukies earlier this week.  Except for the time of day (3 AM!), it's actually pretty easy for me.  Nate's what I like to call a "champion puker".  Does he deserve a medal or an award for his skill?  Perhaps.  But I call him that because he is the only kid I know to treat throwing up like some grand adventure.  The other night he came excitedly into my room and said "Mommy!  I just puked ALL OVER!  Come look!"  He then regaled his father with a tale of his early morning pukings as if he had just fought a pivotal battle in a war.  The kid throws up, gets it out of his system and then carries on.  No crying, no fuss, no drama.  All day he was fine and then at night he'd have an episode.  Bizarre, I tell you.  But at least I'm lucky with his sort of simple ease.  Champion.  See?

Alex has fallen comfortably into those Troublesome Three's everyone talks about.  He has piss and vinegar running through his veins.  Sweet and charming one second, and evil and rotten the very next!  Love him to death but man, three is a challenging age! 

I've been doing big things (for me anyway!) and marking things off my bucket list at record speed (OK, so that's an exaggeration, but progress is something!)  :)  I'll talk more about that after our big hunting weekend (wherein I'll hopefully have photos of me with my big buck to share!)  :)

Until then, enjoy a camera phone photo (or two) of my sweet boys (since that's all I have at my disposal right now):

Size DOES Matter

At the "ripe old age" of (nearly) 35 I'm beginning to realize something.

Size really DOES matter.

Unfortunately, there isn't anything I can do about my size.  At my age, I'm pretty sure I missed that "growth spurt" boat (about 20 years ago!!).

At 4' 10", however, my size is starting to get to me.

It wasn't bad when I was little.  I was generally the "cute" one in school.  People would take me under their wing, protect me, give me adorable little pet names.  Of course it had its moments.  The "short" jokes quickly got a little old.

How's the weather down there?

or

Sorry, didn't see you way down there!

However, with a few well-timed, quippy comebacks, I maneuvered my way through adolescence with my head held high (as high as I could hold it at 4'10", that is!).

But lately, my size (or rather my SHORTNESS) has taken an ugly turn.

As if I needed one more thing to shake my confidence and make me question my adequacy...my height has raised a real issue for me.

The boys and I were on the playground the other night when some "big" girls (I mean big as in bigger than my boys at 2 & 5...so maybe 7-9?) started roughing up Alex.  It was the equivalent of mean girl bullying to a cute little boy they wanted to manhandle.  Seemingly innocent, but unnecessary and inappropriate at the same time.  This one girl in particular was trying to direct Alex, pick him up, drag him up the stairs, down the slide, through the tunnels.  And he was having nothing to do with it.  He just wanted to run free and she was trying to treat him like her personal rag doll.  I was none too happy.  

At first I intervened by making my presence known.  When I was a kid, knowing an adult was watching me was enough to steer me clear of naughtiness.  I quickly realized, however, that my watchful glare was bearing no effect.  So I tried encouraging Alex to speak up for himself...telling him to say "Put me down" or "No" or "I don't want to go down the slide"...that wasn't working either as she paid little heed to what her little "dolly" was saying and continued to manhandle him.  That's when I had to get all Mama Bear on her.  I mean, I didn't say anything mean or yell, I simply took my son away from her and told her to go play elsewhere. 

But then it occurred to me.  I've been overlooked and underestimated by ADULTS my whole life.  But here I was as an adult, not being taken seriously by a CHILD.  This will not do.  My presence was not in the least bit intimidating to her.  And I'm not trying to say I want to scare children or torment them in any way.  I just want to be seen.  That night on the playground, I was in a position of having to protect my baby and I was not being seen as a warning, a threat, or even a deterrent.

As a teenage babysitter (even today) I am used to the kids I'm "charged" with saying "I'm bigger than you" and taking pride in the inch(es) they have on me.  This realization isn't new.  It is, however, newly disheartening.

I'm not delusional enough to assume this has EVERYTHING to do with my height, of course.  I know if I were a stronger person, more confident, less wishy-washy, that I would somehow command the respect my taller counterparts have.  80% of my dilemma is probably more realistically rooted in personality than in physical traits.  But it's not easy to see that right now from where I stand.  Now the question is, where do I go with this?  I suppose there's nowhere to go, but UP.  So I shall take this tidbit, contemplate it, learn from it, and thusly GROW.

Can you guess...

what this is?

Something

I know I should put something up here on this blog, but to be honest...I've got nothing.  Don't get me wrong, there is a LOT going on up here (points to her head), but nothing that's making it out of there alive.  In fact, there's so much going on up there that if it DID come out, it would be some convoluted story about Easter in Portland with goats and ice cream.  Exactly.  Too much going on for any of it to come out making any sense.  So, I will give you this:  a deeply regretful apology for being so lame, and photos of (two of) the most handsome boys you'll ever lay eyes on.

You're welcome.  "Talk" to you again soon!

March Madness

Why does March consistently prove to be a crazy, ridiculous month for me. Both personally and professionally, I run like a mad woman all month long.  I'm not sure if there’s something in the air, some cosmic alignment of planets, or just poor planning on my part but it seems to always fall this way.

This March I have doubly, triply, crammed 200 lbs of crap into my 5 lb bag.   Between a very important (soon-to-be) 5-year-old's birthday (FDNY-themed this year, per his request!), the potential of 9 (!) grant requests due this month, side work I've taken on for a local business that has NYS tax deadlines this month and a couple volunteer projects I'm tackling, I'm swamped.  Not to mention my 10-day cross-country train adventure at the end of the month!  I've done all of this to myself though and I know I will survive.  But the next few weeks will be hairy.  I have a lot to accomplish and (technically) only 22 days to get it all done in...wish me luck!  Oh, and if you don't see much of me spewing my random, cluttered thoughts here, I do apologize!  I will certainly make up for it in April!

Why I refuse to color my hair, even as it becomes painfully obvious that I REALLY need to start coloring my hair.

Growing up I was known to say (on more than one occasion) that "Miss Clairol will be my best friend when I grow up".

This meant two things at the time.  One - that I was certain I would go gray as I grew older since my Paternal Grandmother had gone completely white by her 20s and I knew I wasn't lucky enough to get my mother's genes that led my Abuelita into her 90s with very few gray hairs to speak off.  My mother now follows her lead and has a head of gorgeous black hair with only a few grays mixed in.

I have not been so lucky.  I found my first gray hair in my early twenties.  Staring at that shiny, unacceptable hair in the bathroom mirror, I remember the horror.  It left me shaken for days.  Of course I quickly plucked it and moved on.  In the next several years I would find a spare gray trying to sneak its way into my head of (otherwise) brown hair.  Until recently, my plucking method kept things in check.  Now, however, those pesky grays seem to grow inches long over night.  Just as I think I'm in the clear, 10 more sneak in under cover of darkness.  It's getting out of hand.

So I'm thinking more and more that it's time to succumb to the inevitable.  But I refuse.  Why, you ask?
 
Fear.

It's that simple.

I'm afraid of letting go and letting nature take its course.  Right now I seem to have things (mostly) under control.  Every week or so I inspect.  I pluck.  I regain control.  Lately, though, it's becoming every few days.  Or worse.  I find long gray hairs that somehow snuck past my inspection process for months to get to the lengths they are now.  Then it starts becoming unruly.  No longer are these little culprits easy to spot.  Easy to locate.  Easy to pluck.  They're getting more stealthy and blending in more.  Suddenly they're taking over.

It scares me.  If I start dying my hair to hide these nasty creatures then who's to say that in a year, or a few months even, that I won't have completely gray roots SNEAK up on me?!?  At least now I know what I have to contend with.  If I cover them up, they'll keep coming while I ignore the inevitable and before I know it I will have lost the war.  I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's the first straw to that growing older thing that I have no control over, ultimately.  I don't think I have this growing old gracefully thing down.  So, in the meantime, as I'm learning this complex skill...to dye or not to dye?...that is the question.

Oh, INSPIRATION!!! Where ARE you?!?!

I was supposed to do a 10 on 10 post yesterday.  I remembered that it was the 10th of the month (hurdle #1 jumped), I had a "theme" in mind to focus my mission (hurdle #2), I even remembered my camera (hurdle #3), yet here I sit, hours after this (supposed) 10-hour challenge with nothing.

Ok, so I have a few photos.  Nothing worthy of sharing, but I did take a few.

But not ten.

So, I sit and wonder why.  (Because that's what I do!)  Am I over thinking this stuff (*gasp!*), putting too much pressure on myself to "accomplish" said goals which is sapping the fun out of it?  Who knows, but that wouldn't be the first time.  I tend to over analyze most things and ruin them.  So, next month, on January 10th, I will start the new year fresh and embrace 10 on 10 with a renewed perspective.  Until then, I'm looking for my long lost friend, Inspiration.  Have you seen her?!?

Meet Mr. Ugly Face

If you had told me that this sweet face:

 

Would turn 2 and turn to this:

 

I never would have believed you.  

I mean, really...look at this adorable pip squeak!

 

Lately he looks more like this. 

Thank goodness this is just a phase!

Obsessed

Hi.  My name is Shana.  I *gulp* am a silly band-aholic.

As with everything else, I am a day late and a dollar short as it seems this trend is already in most people's rear view mirror.  But lately, I (no, not the kids...ME) have been obsessed with silly bandz.

I'm not sure what it is about these clever little plastic bracelets.  Perhaps it's the fond nostalgia of my own jelly bracelet fad growing up. 

It could be the pretty colors, or the brilliant simplicity.  Maybe it's the surprise of finding out "what it is" when you take it off and untwist it.

Who knows, but I dig them.  It's a childish obsession I have lately.

I buy them for the boys yet they have no interest whatsoever.  Alex likes to put them on and take them off a hundred times and Nate thinks they're rubber bands for shooting at the dog or his baby brother.  So I find myself wearing them and collecting them and hoarding them.  I've even considered staging my own silly band swap (think chain letter)!  It's a sickness.  I think I need help.

Straight from the heart ♥

Generally speaking, I use a lot of big, strong words - words that carry a lot of drama, create a big impact, contain rich emotion, tell an elaborate story, or evoke an exaggerated response.

I tend to overemphasis and magnify many things to get my point across as a general rule of thumb.

I (quite literally) embellish things for a living.

But there's something I want to make perfectly clear.

There are certain words, certain emotions, certain expressions that are 110% GENUINE when I use them.

Words like:  love, inspire, admire, adore, cherish, treasure, respect.

I worry that I'm not taken seriously.  It would be easy to poo poo me as if to say, "Oh, there goes Shana, telling stories again!".

Yes, I am guilty of (over)sharing my emotions with many and am blessed to have more than a few absolutely amazing people in my immediate circle, but it is these feelings that I hope are understood.  I assure you - my friends, my family, my loved ones - these words are completely sincere, and honest, truthful, unaffected feelings.  I mean them each and every time I use them!  So if I tell you that you inspire me, or that I admire you, adore you, love you...I DO.  Of that, you can be 110% POSITIVE.

For friend is a word I hold in very high regard and I use it only when it absolutely applies!  Thank you for being my friends.  You know who you are!!!

My "Give A Damn" is busted...

In a previous version of myself I had high standards for my upkeep.  I didn't feel human leaving the house in anything less than the best.  I had to put full make-up on, dress in an outfit that didn't make me look frumpy, even wear uncomfortable shoes so long as they looked cute.

Lately, that is so not the case.  It's as if my give-a-damn is broken.  I could care less. The effort required in simply showering and pulling my hair in a pony tail is enough.  I haven't had my hair cut in almost 8 months.  I rarely shower on the weekends much less do my hair or make-up unless I have somewhere to go or someone is coming over. I used to agonize over my outfit, trying desperately to cover my bumps and sags and find the most flattering clothes to wear to work.  Not anymore.  I looked in the mirror this morning, made sure everything was "covered" and "matched" and that I wasn't feeling self conscious in my choice of mindless pants and a sweater and I was good to go.   

In one regard it's somewhat freeing to not care.  I care too much about what people think most of the time so perhaps this is a refreshing change of pace.  However, I want better for my family.  I don't want my boys to look back on every single photo of their Mom from when they were kids and gasp in horror.  I don't want them to be embarrassed to have their frumpy, uncool Mom picking them up from a friend's house.  I want to be that Mom.  The cool one.  The one everyone talks about.  Or at the very least, I'd like to not be the one everyone talks about because I'm a mess.

I don't know how to fix my "give a damn".  I don't know how to find the time and energy and motivation to primp, doll up, heck, even put on lipgloss once in a while.  I don't want to be this tired, haggard, version of myself.  I want to be stylin', and qualify as "hot mama"...I just don't know how.

Wordless Wednesday - Harvest

Googlie Mooglie

The boys and I are incessantly rocking out to this fabulous group of children's musicians, called The Jimmies.  And when I say "rocking out", I do mean ROCKING...these guys R-O-C-K.  They make listening to usually mindless, brain numbing children's music fun, entertaining, and cool!!  I think I love listening to them as much as my kids do.

So far be it from me to squelch my 4-year-old's desire to take one of the songs, Googlie Mooglie, and try it out in real life.  The song sings about a soothes-your-soul type concoction that is part "health" drink, part old wives tale, and 100% good old fashioned family tradition.

The words go:

"My Papa is a healthy guy, 

never sick a day in his life, 

and if ya had a cold or an ache, 

he'd give you this advice...

drink a Googlie Mooglie, 

he'd have one every day...

a Googlie Mooglie, 

he'd mix it and he'd say...

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 

then he'd start all over again 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5 ,4 ,3 ,2 ,1

and now your Googlie Mooglie is done."

"He'd take butter and sugar, and boiling hot milk 

and mix it all up in a glass...

and if you were willing to drink it on down, 

what was ailing you surely would pass..."

Play song from iLike.com

So, when we got home today after listening to this song, Nathaniel says to me, "Mommy, I want to make a Googlie Mooglie".  To which I replied, "Ok, do you know how?"

Silly me.

"Yes, Mommy!", Nate exclaimed...and then proceeded to sing the line above.  So that's exactly what we did...we "took butter, and sugar, and boiling hot milk and mixed it all up in a glass".  

There you have a Googlie Mooglie.  

Voila!  

It didn't taste half bad, except for the whole really bad for you part.  I kept telling myself it was cake batter, without the eggs or flour.  I can see how drinking one of those every day might keep you healthy.  Ok so maybe not healthy, but at least happy!  (Although, definitely not skinny!)  Just wait till he decides he wants Green Eggs and Ham for breakfast!  What fun!