Ending 2021 "Intentionally"

I read an article on FB with these 10 questions to ask yourself to "end your year intentionally".  I'm not really sure what that means, but I liked the idea of summarizing the year -  kind of like putting the memories of 2021 into a figurative box so I can close it up and start 2022 fresh.  So, let's do it!

1. What makes this year unforgettable?

The most unforgettable aspect of 2021, besides the obvious global pandemic, would undoubtedly be almost losing my husband to a "widow-maker" heart attack in May.  Every minute spent since that day his life was spared has been a gift.  That's not to say he doesn't still drive me nuts or make my blood boil, but I see the blessings in his just being here.  Every milestone that has been met since that day, every event attended, every ordinary day spent making memories, I have stopped to think "what if" and the alternatives are scary.  I couldn't imagine getting through covid, seasonal wind storms, National Honor Society inductions, football seasons, annual traditions, or holidays without him by our side.  It was a real eye opener.  Not just to focus on health more but to remember that every day is a gift and time is not promised to anyone.  I see the blessings we have much clearer these days.

2. What did you enjoy doing this year?

As a result of our eye opening experience with Dave's heart attack, I tried to be a little more spontaneous.  We took trips to cool places when we could, said yes to new experiences more freely, and just tried to make fewer excuses for NOT living more.

3. What/who is the one thing/person you’re grateful for?

I am grateful for SO MANY people.  In an effort to name just ONE, however, I will pay tribute to a GROUP of people...my friends.  I am eternally blessed with some of the best friends a girl could ever ask for. And I'm not being coy.  I mean these people are from all aspects of my life - high school, various jobs, places I've lived, friends my children have made.  And each one of these fabulous people have been there for me.  They've supported me, helped me in various ways - physically, mentally, spiritually - and given me strength and sunshine when I needed it most.  

4. What’s your biggest win this year?

This is a hard one for me.  It's been a tough year for me, mentally.  I've struggled a lot.  I've been teetering on the edge of a breakdown for months so to feel as though I've won at anything is challenging.  But in all of that, I survived.  And THAT would have to be my biggest win.  It hasn't been graceful or pretty, but I'm here.  Next year I will work on taking better care of myself, being more kind, more patient, more productive.  But for now, I am happy just to have my head slightly above water.

5. What did you read/watch/listen to that made the most impact this year? 

I don't spend a lot of time reading anything.  TV shows aren't really my thing.  And it's hard to listen to anything in my house, but I've watched a lot of Tik Tok and listened to a lot of music.  While neither of these things are super impressive, they are inspirational.  A lot of emotion can be pulled from the lyrics of good music.  Much of which can be considered relatable on some level.  And sometimes feeling is good...regardless if it's good or bad feelings, at least it's something.  Tik Tok has a lot of garbage but it also reminds you that there is good in the world.  It shows you snippets of smart, funny, talented people who are spreading positivity and kindness in the world.  And it simultaneously inspires you to be better, do better, try something new...while reminding you that you are not the only one struggling, feeling sad, gaining weight, etc.

6. What did you worry about most and how did it turn out?

Besides the obvious worry about Dave and his health, I worried a lot about my boys (as I always do) and a lot about my own health.  

Dave is doing great so with the exception of worrying about another heart attack for him, his health is good and he's doing well.

The boys always keep me on my toes.  Every new phase and growing pain has me hoping they're ok.  I want them to be strong and mentally healthy.  I worry that they're not opening up or sharing.  But they're great boys and I'm eternally lucky to have them.  They are my rocks.

7. What was your biggest regret and why?

My biggest regret would definitely be NOT taking better care of myself this year.  I kick myself thinking of how far along I could be in my progress towards a healthier me by now, if I had JUST STARTED.  

8. What’s one thing that changed about yourself?

For better or worse, I started worrying less about what people think of me.  Not entirely, but more.

9. What surprised you the most this year?

The divisiveness in our country has both surprised me and saddened me.  It feels foreign and it's very distressing.

10. If you could go back to last January 1, what suggestions would you give your past self?

Again, I would remind myself to just do it.  Whatever IT is, I should do more and procrastinate less.  No excuses.  

The Story of Stuff

I went to an estate sale today.  Usually it's a lot of fun to see what treasures I can find on such an adventure.  However, today, as I walked through this (huge!) house full of someone else's stuff, I couldn't help but feel immensely sad.

Spread out in every room of this house was someone's entire life for droves of strangers to come rifle through.  From stocked up packages of toilet paper to books, shoes, furniture, coffee mugs, trinkets, and  vacation souvenirs, everything was on display and for sale to the highest bidder.  As I wandered from room to room the emotions continued to rise.  Each of these items belonged to someone.  Each had a special or unique meaning.  Each was given or chosen with a purpose.  I wished for a second that these items could talk, to tell their stories.  For example, the owner of this house had a collection of miniature beautiful glass figurines.  I imagined each one being purchased by a grandchild or picked out as a momento on a vacation to Niagara Falls.

What made me particularly sad was listening to one gentleman who was there talking on the phone.  I perused the titles of books in a back bedroom inadvertently eavesdropping while he talked to someone (loudly!) about the value of something he wanted to sell.  He loudly discussed the monetary value of this unknown item while he simultaneously dismantled a mantle clock to find markings or some value to this item as well.

I suddenly felt guilty invading this person's home.  It felt oddly voyeuristic to be picking through their personal items.  So I walked from room to room with my hands in my pockets and started wondering what had happened to this person/people.  Realizing (from the hospital bed, numerous walkers and canes, and electric lift chairs that were for sale) that this must be the home of an elderly couple who had probably lived a long life and had passed away or been placed in a nursing home didn't bring much consolation.  In the cupboards and closets and shelves of this beautiful home was the stuff that told the story of their life.  Each of these items meant something at some point and now it was being pawed through by people who wanted to get a bargain or make a buck.  So sad.  

Jes2cu:)

This is my beautiful friend, Jes.  To know her is to love her.  She always brought an infectious energy to the room.  Her laugh was unforgettable and her smile was as radiant as her spirit.  She taught me so much in life over the last 25 years of friendship.  (Jes even gave me the name for this blog many years ago in a conversation we had wherein she was commiserating with me about being the Mom of all boys.)  

Unfortunately, she has taught me a lot about death and loss, as well.  Jes passed away on August 4, 2017 from metastatic breast cancer.  She fought ridiculously hard to hold on for all who loved her - her friends, family, and mostly for her husband and three young boys.  But God wanted her home.

In the weeks that have followed I have found myself thinking of her constantly - even more than usual. I often find myself wishing she were here to ask a question of, give advice, or just hang out with a cup of coffee and a lesson on her latest craft.  What I've learned (the hard way) is that life is too damn short.  I know people say that all the time, but I guess I'm slow and stubborn and it took losing someone (my age!) who was (until recently) ALWAYS there when I needed her, to learn this lesson first hand.  

The problem is/was that I let life get in the way too often.  Looking back over emails, text messages or G-chats Jes and I would send back and forth, there was a resonating repetition in our messages.  "Let's get together when the weather gets better" or "the next couple weeks are crazy so let's try after the holidays" or "I miss you, when can I see you?" (with no response from one or the other of us for WEEKS or MONTHS to set up a date).  There was no conscious realization that we'd NOT have a chance to reschedule or NOT have a chance in the future to set something up LATER.  The unfortunate result of this was that I found myself saying, "I really thought we'd have more time",  A LOT at her bedside in Hospice and ultimately at her funeral.  

Well, time ran out.  And now I'm kicking myself for not making better use of the time we had.

Rewind a few years...

When Jes called me to tell me the devastating news she had just received, I remember getting off the phone and calling my mother - My Aunt had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer so I wanted to know how my Mom was helping her.  Through tears I asked my Mom, "What can I do!?!" and "How can I help?".  With the confident wisdom that only a mother can impart, she said the best thing to do was to let Jes know she wasn't alone and that I was here and thinking of her.  My mom did that for my Aunt by sending her cards to keep in touch.  

So I went out and bought a bunch of cards.  Thinking of you.  Miss you.  Friendship.  Get well soon.  You name it, I picked them up everywhere I went.  I stocked up on them in droves so I'd have just the card needed for just the right time.  At first I was good at sending them.  I'd drop Jes a card or a note or a text to tell her she was in my thoughts.  I'd let her know I was here if she needed anything.  But as time went on and as she seemed to be handling everything with the strength and ease I honestly expected from her anyway, I got lazy (?), complacent (?), COMFORTABLE with the idea that she was strong and would kick cancer's butt and be just FINE.  Meanwhile, LIFE got busy, my check-ins were met with a confident and positive Jes telling me things were good and scans were showing positive news.  Life continued to get in the way and before long it would be weeks or even months between my contact.  Like I said before, I really felt like TIME was on our side.  Boy was I was wrong.

So, as I walked around my house after Jes passed away I found myself staring at this stockpile of cards I had bought to send to her and wondered, "Now what?".  I totally screwed that up.  Now I had this visual reminder of what a crappy friend I had been and how short life really is.  I was remembering on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis how easily opportunities can slip away from you and how we DON'T always have MORE TIME.  

So, I decided to take that lesson and make sure I never took my friends and loved ones for granted again.  If I was thinking of them, I wanted them to know.  If they had done something I was grateful for, I was going to tell them.  As silly as it is, I didn't want anyone else to die without knowing exactly what they meant to me.

I started sending those cards I had stockpiled to friends and family (far and wide).  I sent them to friends I see often and those I haven't seen or talked to in ages.  A few at a time, every week or so I'd have the names of people that had crept into my thoughts throughout the week.  (My list is longer now than my stamp budget, but I'll get to everyone.  I promise.) 

Then I got a few texts or messages from friends saying they had received my card(s) and that it made them smile.  A couple friends mentioned that they had been having a bad day or a hellish week and that my card was just what they needed.  One friend even said that it meant a lot to know that she "mattered if in some small way" and that it was a "much needed pick me up...in this chaotic adult life that can be boring, routine, complicated and so very harsh".  THIS is exactly what I needed and just what I wanted to spread.  I want to make sure the people in my life who have made me who I am never question the impact they have on the world.  

So I decided to make this my mission (?) or project of sorts.  It's a work in progress but it makes me happy to spread smiles, I guess.  So I asked my sister to come up with a logo for my project.  I call it my "Jes2cu:)" (Just to see you smile) project.  

The "Jes" in the logo is Jes's actual signature which makes me happy every time I see it.  

And so I will spread love and smiles whenever I can, in honor of my beloved Jes.  It sucks that I had to learn this lesson by losing her.  But I hope to never make the mistake of letting a moment go by without letting the people I care most about know they are important and loved.  Every time I stick a stamp on a card being sent to someone special, I can almost see her beautiful smile!

Bundles of note cards I put together to give to friends so they, too, can spread the love to people THEY care about.  

#thisis40

As much as I wish I could change it, I will turn 40 in ten days.  Ten Days until I turn the big 4-0.  I'm trying to be positive and embrace the number.  Really, I am.  I am doing my best to channel my BFF and focus on my many blessings.  I attempt every day to remember accomplishments made over the past 14,600 days.

I'm struggling though.  2016 has been the year of all my friends turning 40.  They all seem to be embracing it.  So many of my friends have been posting photos taken on fabulous trips to exotic places to commemorate their 40th.  They've taken on big goals, done amazing things, accomplished fascinating dreams, or simply just embraced the fabulous people they are.  All under the hashtag, "thisis40".  It has me really trying to figure out, what is 40 for ME?  I'm not planning any trips anywhere amazing.  I haven't accomplished any grand dream or even made a huge impact on the world around me.  I'm not even sure what I want to be when I grow up yet.

When I was in my 20s people older than me would tell me when I got to be in my 30s and 40s I'd care less what people think, I'd find a self confidence I was then lacking.  Forty sounded so liberating.  I always figured by my thirties and forties I would finally know who I am, what I was supposed to do in this world and where I belonged.  I am so not there.

Forty has me physically out of shape, emotionally exhausted and seemingly messing up everything I touch.  My house is a mess, my brain is just as cluttered, and I never quite have it all together.  This isn't the grace and style I was hoping to have by now.  

Will I ever get there?  I guess I have 10 days to figure that out.  Wish me luck.    

The revolving door of parenthood.

You know the scene...you're going through a revolving door at your local restaurant, shopping plaza or hotel lobby.  You hustle your littles into the all-too-tight space ahead of you and then squeeze in behind them, go a half turn through the door and then lead them out safely on the other side.   It's our job.  That's what we as Moms, Dads, PARENTS, do. 

The other day my boys, ages 6 and 8, and I were traveling through one of these doors when they rushed in ahead of me.  They filed into the section before me and I followed, one compartment behind.  Well, I got out on the other side and they did not...they kept going.  And going.  And going.  They were having the time of their lives just spinning around.  Of course I ushered them back through as soon as their fun became distruptive to others trying to get in, but until then, they carried on without me.  This has become a metaphor for my life with these boys lately. 

I understand that's how it works.  We guide them and steer them - Teach them, enourage them, support them.  Then they get independent and disappear into the revolving door only to come out on the other side unassisted.  With me standing on the outside watching them through the glass but unable to reach them.  I'm just not sure I am fully prepared for this new back seat "supervisory" role that I've inevitably been assigned. 

I love that my boys are growing up, don't get me wrong.  Besides, Nate has always been an old soul anyway...light years ahead of his age in maturity and self reliance.  I (half) joke all the time that Nate has never really needed me.  As a baby, he would crawl to his bedroom door when he was tired and sit outside it until I put him to bed. 

At swimming over the weekend I was chatting with a mom-friend of mine who is still very much in the throes of all things baby and toddler.  As she stepped out of the water with her infant in one hand and her toddler on her heels, she noted that I had been relieved of my "going in the water duties" now that the boys were older and could swim on their own.  I agreed, pointing out it was just one of many new breaks I'd finally earned as a result of their growing up.  I smile on the outside.  But inside I cried a little.

Sure, it's great to send them outside (with very little assistance needed beyond "Mom, where's my hat?" and "Help!  I can't get my boots on over my thick snowpants with my gloves already firmly installed on my hands" - ok, so they don't actually talk like that but you get the point...) but I never quite know where I stand.  When my needed assistance will be replaced with their new found confidence and skill.  Who can guess when my advice will be put out of business with wisdom of their own.

I don't know that I'll ever get used to this ever-changing "normal".  Just when I think I have it down, something changes. I will always beam with pride as new achievements are realized and skills are learned, of course.  But inside, I also realize that the end of my parenting job is one step closer.  That before I know it I may read my last goodnight story or hear my last "MOM!" holler for assistance in the bathroom.  And that makes me sad.

A lesson learned...through his eyes

My 6-year-old keeps a photo of me in a frame on his shelf above his bed.  It's a ceramic frame he and his friends painted, decorated, and put their names on for his 5th birthday party at one of those paint-your-own-pottery places.  The photo of me is from 1994, my senior year of high school.

Tonight at bedtime, we were doing our nightly routine of "Day Talk" (where we tell each other, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute, about our days) and Alex said something about how he loves that photo.  I asked him if he even knew who it was and he said, without hesitation, "It's you, Mommy".

Now, I look at that photo and I don't see me.  I see a 17-year-old version of who I used to be.  I see a young, thin, pretty girl, with the whole world in front of her.  She had adventures to go on, wild animals to tame, and dreams to conquer.  A far cry from the frumpy, old, haggard version of me before him.

But here was my sweet, innocent, 6-year-old saying, without skipping a beat, "It's you, Mommy!"

I jokingly responded, "How do you know that's me?!?"

"Because I see your same eyes."

"The same smile"

"The same hair"

"The same teeth"

"The same..."

He looked at this picture of me from 20+ years ago and he saw me just as he sees me now.  He didn't see the absence of wrinkles then vs. today's dull, lack luster skin.  Instead he looks past my greying hair and the no-longer-straight and certainly no-longer sparkling white teeth I once sported in my youth.  It didn't even phase him that the girl in that picture is easily 100 lbs lighter.  That she saw hope and promise in a world she has since become skeptical of.  He simply saw ME.  He saw his Mom.  He sees the same person NOW that I was back then.  And in that moment...so did I.  Now to practice holding on to that...

Black Cloud

It's been months since I posted anything here.  It's not because there hasn't been anything noteworthy happening.  Quite the opposite, actually.  We've had big stuff going on.  Lots of firsts to report.  Memories made, big adventures to share.  It certainly isn't that I haven't had the words running around in my head.  Lord knows I am never in short supply of random thoughts, worries, concerns, memories I want to remember and stories I'm itching to share.

What I'm lacking (lately) is clarity.  Focus.  The want and desire is there...but the follow through and the coherent thought and motivation needed to get the words out is conveniently missing.

Today, however, was one of those days.  One of those days that compounds everything I've been feeling for months and makes it bubble over.  I've had many of these days lately, but today had a face (or faces), and stories of sadness, loss, and heartache.  So many friends suffering.  So many of my friends receiving bad news and struggling through their own journeys.

And it wasn't just close, personal friends, it was friends of friends.  National news stories.  Local news stories.  So much pain and sorrow.  Marital conflict, messy, ugly divorces, freak accidents, untimely deaths, health issues in babies too young to know even have a start in life, tragic losses and horrible circumstances that make you question God, people, society....everything.  

Today was a Bad News Day.

As I sit here typing this, Alex is laying in my lap sleeping.  I look down at him and can't help but count my blessings.  Sure I've got my fair share of issues.  Stuff is far from perfect in my world...but my family is all HERE, we're all HEALTHY, and SAFE.

Life is short and fragile.  That's for sure.  It's my one hope that while I'm here I can make a difference, leave my mark, and create a legacy of some sort that lives on long after I'm gone.  If I can do that, then I will have done my part.  Until then, I'm off to hug my babies just a little tighter.  I suggest you do the same.

The Lost Boy

I had a conversation with Alex at bedtime tonight.

As we snuggled up on the couch, his head on my lap, curled up with his beloved "cuddle cuddle uppet", Alex looked up at me and said "Mama, I do never want to get big".

I asked him why and he said because if he gets big, I won't push him on the swings...and he won't be able to sit on my lap anymore.

As my heart wept just a little, I (tried to) assure him that he'd NEVER be too big for that.  No matter how big he gets, he'll ALWAYS be my little boy.

But the truth is, he IS going to get bigger.  He WILL (someday) be too big to (comfortably) sit on my lap.

And I, too, wish he never had to grow up.  I want him to forever be my baby.  I want him to always love snuggling with his "Mama".  I rather enjoy the magic my kisses bring.  I love having all the answers, a special touch and comforting hugs.  When he gets big, he'll be too cool, too smart, and too busy.

Peter Pan had something with his whole "Never Grow Up" mentality.  If only the Lost Boys were taking new members.

So I guess, instead, I will just have to soak up every minute I'm granted with my "little" boy.  I will learn to relish all the monumental milestones growing "BIG" brings, and do my best to push Alex on the swings as much as I can 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.

My Little Leprechaun

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I kinda wanted Nate to be a St. Patrick's Day baby.  I'm not even the slightest bit Irish, but truth be told, I was ready to have him out by then and I secretly (ok, maybe not so secretly, if you ask my sister) wanted him to be a 17th baby.  My brother and I were both born on the 17th as is my person, Tiff (all different months and years, of course) but I thought it would be cool if Nate was, too.

My sister always had a complex growing up because of the three siblings she was the only one NOT to have a birthday on the 17th and my brother and I would remind her that Mom and Dad were in our "club", too, because if you add up the month and date of their anniversary (11/6)...yep, you guessed it - it adds to 17.  So when I told my sister I wanted Nathaniel born on the 17th to be part of the cool crew, she was none too happy.  (insert evil laugh, here!)  He was due on the 22nd (her birthday) so she had her own agenda and plan anyway.

I ate so many Shamrock Shakes that March I thought Nate might come out green and smelling of mint anyway so he was already half way to being a leprechaun in my book!

Not to mention, my favorite color is green.

Fast forward a couple decades and I couldn't help but think what a great time he'd have on his 21st birthday with all that green beer flowing.

Needless to say, his birthday is NOT today, so I lost my "wager" with my sister.  But when he was born on the 21st and not the 22nd...I figured she didn't win either so I was happy regardless. 

Yet today I ponder what it could have been like to be celebrating my little leprechaun today.  Instead, I breathe a gigantic sigh of relief that I still have 4 more days to prepare for his actual birthday!

Simple Woman's Daybook...January 11, 2011

FOR TODAY...January 11, 2011

Outside my window...it's winter.  Snow.  Cold,  Gray.  Typical for this time of year. 

I am thinking...about the future.  Where I want to be in 10 years.  What choices I should be making to get there. What is happy to me and am I there?  It's deep stuff, but I figure I can't just let it happen.  Can I?  I feel like I've let my whole life just sort of happen.  If I want to have any control over where I am and how happy I can be, I need to start taking the reins. 

I am thankful for...the many opportunities that have come my way lately.  I am reaching outside my comfort zone, doing things that are challenging and a little unknown and learning and growing exponentially as a result.

I am wearing...an outfit I'm horribly uncomfortable in.  Most of my clothing options lately fall into this category.  I know I need to do something but just. can't. seem. to. MOTIVATE!  I'm stuck in a vicious circle I can't seem to get out of.  Like those blasted traffic circles, driving around and around and around, unable to turn off.  Everyone makes it sound so easy but I don't agree.  Logically it makes sense: Eat less, eat better options, exercise more (or at all for that matter).  I just can't. 

I am remembering...all the things I have to pack for our trip.  Swimming gear, beloved blankets, loveys, diapers, clothes, entertainment for the trip, food, stroller, camera, medicines, chargers, etc., etc., etc. 

I am creating...recently I was lucky enough to be given the chance to create the logo and business cards for a property services company I'm doing some p/t bookkeeping work for.  It reminded me of a previous life when I had my own desktop publishing "company" (S.Y.S.tems Desktop Publishing) and did start-up business packages (logo design, business cards, letter head and envelope design) for local contractors. I only did a few but it brings me great pleasure to see my logo still being used by at least one of the companies.  It's an amazing feeling of pride even if it was 10 (or more!) years ago.
     
I am going...to NYC!  The boys and I are heading down to NYC/Long Island area for a whole week to spend a glorious time with our favorite people, Tiff & Brie!!  I can't wait.  Of course I have serious anxiety over the trip itself.  Seven hours alone in a car with two small children in January.  It doesn't sound like the smartest idea, but we can't schedule these sort of fantastic adventures so we'll take them when they come!  We will spend the week hanging out, swimming, playing, touring, and relaxing (when Tiff's not working, that is!)  And of course, we will miss Daddy while we're gone, but I think the time away will re-energize us all!  He deserves a break and the boys will appreciate getting away from the "normal" every day stuff. 

I am reading...a couple things.  I am bringing them both with me and hope to get some reading time in, but we'll see.  In the meantime, I have started my second audio book and am riveted by the story...An Unfinished Life, by Mark Spragg.  I found myself parked in the parking lot at work waiting for them to finish the chapter the other day for almost 10 minutes!!

I am hoping...not to just ramble all my thoughts here and then forget about them like I usually do.  I really do want to change things.  Myself.  My outlook.  I just figure I won't follow through now any more than I usually do.  I need some accountability.  But how?

I am hearing...general background noise.  Hums, squeaks, taps.  Virtual silence, actually.  It's nice.

Pondering these words..."There's always a little truth behind every "just kidding". A little knowledge behind every "I don't know" A little emotion behind every "I don't care" And a little pain behind every "it's okay"?  
My brilliant friend, Heidi, posted this on FB yesterday and it's SO true.  I've always felt this way. 

Around the house...lately there's chaos, clutter, and tension.  The winter months have us hiding inside for long periods at a time.  It's been too cold to get the boys outside to play much and we've fallen out of sync on some of our usual get-out-of-the-house activities with Tiff & Brie being away.  Nate's attitude has been HORRENDOUS.  He's mouthy, argumentative, and has an awfully BIG attitude for his 4-year-old frame!  He's been losing privileges and beloved toys left and right lately!  It doesn't seem to be helping at all, though!

On my mind...Nate's behavior lately.  He is sweet as apple pie one second, being playful, cracking jokes, giving hugs for no reason, and then like a switch, he gets mouthy, starts fighting with me, his brother, the dog, and starts mouthing off.  I didn't expect this at four.  Fifteen, sure.  But FOUR?!?  I feel unequipped to handle this stage.

Noticing that...I'm in a bit of a funk today.  I need to snap out of it.  Oh SUNSHINE, where ARE you!?!?!

One of my favorite things...this blog.  It allows me to share my innermost thoughts, feelings, and dreams in a non-judgmental forum.  (At least if I AM being judged no one tells me...so I'll take it!)

A few plans for the rest of the week: Christmas celebration with Auntie Pam and the Ayers Clan; Walk 'N Talk with Heidi, haircuts for the boys and I, packing, and ROAD TRIP!!


Here is picture for thought I am sharing...

A rare moment to get outside and play.  

It was in the 20s this day so it didn't last long, but we enjoyed it while we could!

Be sure to check out more Simple Woman's Daybook entries!

Struggling...

I really wasn't sure if I wanted to publish this post since the majority of my 20 or so readers are friends of mine and only a few really know of the struggles I've had (most prominently) in the last few years. However, as a "public service" message and in an effort to be forthright and honest with you all, I decided to go for it. Today will be anything but Wordless...

For years I battled issues in my head that made me feel like I was losing my grip. I felt unfocused, overwhelmed with even the simplest of things, and generally unhappy with a life that had all the makings for true bliss. In December of 2006, I decided I needed to talk to someone about it. It had begun to creep into my job as a Mom and I was not having it. I found myself getting easily frustrated, being short tempered, and losing my patience at the drop of a hat. I couldn't focus at work, felt like a miserable failure at home and lacked the motivation to just DO what I knew needed to be done (be it dishes, laundry, shopping, working out, or simply putting down that cookie that I knew was making and keeping me fat).

The day I made the phone call to EAP (Employee Assistance Program, a counseling service offered to employees of the company I worked for), I remember telling the woman on the other end of the phone that I just wanted to be a better Mom, wife, and employee. I was struggling in all areas. And I finally realized that I needed real help.

The verdict? Depression and Anxiety.

I waiver between thinking I'm a player in yet another all-too-often-diagnosed "trendy" illness of the moment and thinking "Yes, of course!". Looking back now it makes sense. Even still, some days I don't feel like I deserve the diagnosis. Like to be depressed I would have to have led a rough life or traveled a difficult road and since I haven't, I somehow haven't earned the right to "suffer" from depression. After all, what do I have to be depressed about? I grew up with the Cleavers, I have a great family, a roof over my head, a job that pays the bills and then some, two BEAUTIFUL and HEALTHY children. I just need to get over it. Change my perspective. Look on the bright side and focus on my blessings. Right? Shouldn't it just be that simple?

I wish.

Fast forward to today. I have been in and out of counseling, tried various medicinal supports, and have both good days and bad days.

Do I still struggle? Yes. Often.

Have I learned ways to cope? Yes. Many.

Does that make it easier? Yes. Sometimes.

It's hard to accept that this is my life. It's difficult to admit that I may always have to "deal" with this on some level. It's definitely not the worst hand life could have dealt me but it has its moments. I don't know if there's a stigma in society about it. I honestly never thought about it until just now. I guess (for once in my life!) I don't care if there is. This is who I am and what I live with.  I do the best I can.

Friendship Friday...Part One

I had an interesting conversation with Heidi the other night about friendship that really got me thinking.  My brain churned about this all night and I had hoped to write a whole reflective post about friendship yesterday.  However, I'm finding that I can't quite get my thoughts out on paper coherently and say what I want in a meaningful way.  I'm struggling with how to define friendship.  What does it mean to be a friend?  How does friendship differ from friend to friend?  Am I the best friend I can be?  I would definitely consider myself to be inherently blessed in the friend department.   But how did I get so lucky?  And should this excessive luck concern me that the bottom could fall out at any time?

So instead of getting too deep and rambling on too much about my conflicting philosophical thoughts, I thought I'd start small.  Take a small bite out of this topic.  Then at least I'd be starting somewhere to try and sort things out through a series of posts that hopefully will bring some clarity to what I'm trying to express in the end.

So, I found this quote on the internet and it rings very true. 

Friendship isn't a big thing - it's a million little things.

~Author Unknown

Friendship isn't about being big, or noticeable, or stealing the spotlight.  It's just there - constantly providing support and gentle encouragement from behind the scenes.  It's not about the grand gestures or the profound statements, it's the small and subtle actions that steal the show. 

But just as with any relationship, I think true friendship requires work.  Constant dilligence to keep things fed and nourished and fresh.  The great thing about true friends is that any efforts made on behalf of the friendship don't feel like work at all.  Friendship is very rewarding and incredibly worth the investment you make. 

When I grow up...

I've been thinking long and hard about what it is I want to be when I grow up.  Okay, so I know I'm grown up already.  The early morning wake times and mortgage payments and job and household responsibilities remind me of that daily, however, I still don't know what I want to BE when I grow up.

I asked Nate the other day, since he (even at only 4!) seems to have it all figured out and he told me I would be a police officer.

Um, no.

I asked him if he could actually picture Mommy as a police officer, fighting crime and bringing bad guys to justice, and he said yes.

Which is proof that he has no idea what I should be when I grow up, either.

I wish I could pick a card (like in the game of Life) and know what I was destined to be.  It seems like all the things I wish I could do/be/achieve are long shots.  I have no idea where to even start.  I'm learning that I'm not much of a problem solver.  I like other people to fix things for me.  Tell me what to do.  Even after years of my father encouraging me to "look it up" instead of doing it for me, I still managed to develop a bad habit of sitting on my laurels until someone else takes care of things or it takes care of itself.  I'm a big fan of the "ignore it and it will go away" theory of change.  On one hand I believe this has made me a very malleable and easy going person.  I tend to be flexible and adaptable, but I also spend a lot of time spinning my wheels and never really getting anywhere.

Thus my current crisis.  If you asked me what I wanted to be, I'd say "an author" or "a photographer".  I'd spout off some grand plan to start my Keurig cartridge recycling business or find someone who can manufacture and distribute my "Feet Sheets", share any number of my children's book ideas, or ramble on and on about my dreams of making a living on Etsy so I can stay home with my (not-so-very babyish anymore) babies.  But where to start?!?  I have the passion, the desire, and the ideas...I just lack the most important things:  Know how, motivation, time, and skill.

Hope Springs Eternal

My hostas and mint plant did not fare the travels to the new home very well.  They are withered and beat up, most definitely in shock from the tragic move (in the back of a truck, driving down a highway at 65 mph, no doubt) and looking downright pathetic.

Which I have to admit, is a little bit how I feel at this point of the settling in process.  

Withered.  Beat Up.  In shock.  Downright pathetic.

Yep . That's me.

Yet, despite all the abuse they've taken and their seemingly poor adjustment to the move, I found this yesterday:

Amongst the dried, broken, withered leaves of my poor Hosta were these beautiful flowers peeking out.  It's a sign (to me anyway) that despite our outward appearance, the road we've traveled, or the beaten feelings we carry, hope still lives on.  The hope for a brighter tomorrow, a less busy week ahead, a light at the end of the tunnel, an easier day, the company of family and friends.  Something to look forward to, instead of dwelling on the current state of our body, emotions, or status.  Ahhhh, hope springs eternal.

First and Last

As I see the light at the end of the tunnel looming and I look to the inevitable "lasts" (last dinner in our kitchen, last night sleeping here, last romp in the backyard), I find myself overwhelmed with sadness, anxiety, and nostalgia.

My cousin made reference on Facebook the other day to the latest Miranda Lambert song, The House That Built Me.  And while this house didn't build me from the ground up as The Homestead did, I do feel like it has molded me in many ways.  As I think about the "lasts" that are just around the corner, I'm reminded by all the "firsts" we've had here, too.

First house - First (and second) baby welcomed here - We got married here, had (semi-) annual New Year's Eve and Summer parties here, even hosted our first Thanksgiving and Christmas here.

We've had a lot of fun, shared a lot, grown a lot.  Anyone who really knows me knows I don't handle change well.  Specifically "moving on" change.  I don't part well with old belongings, I fear new beginnings and loathe big unknowns.  This move has all of those things associated with it so I just want to get this next week over with.  But instead of mourning the upcoming "lasts", I will cherish them and try to remember they are merely finishing the chapter that all those "firsts" began.  As my sister-in-law, Debbie, said..."New memories await!"

Getting Old

Last week I went to see Spring Awakening at the RBTL.  I have season passes and this was one of the shows in the line-up.  Let me start by saying that the music was fantastic...but I didn't quite get the story.  I mean, I tend to think I'm pretty intelligent, but there were times I was a little lost.  Of course, I understand it was about heavy stuff.  Set in Germany in 1891, the teenagers in the play were struggling with their sexuality, trying to balance their desires with what was being taught to them by an overly oppressive society.  There are issues of violence, suicide, even abortion.  It's pretty deep.  The problem I had was that it was a little too much - too heavy, too racy.  Even for me.

That's where I start to feel old.  Seriously, I used to be hip, cool, even adventurous.  Now, though...I don't know.  It's like I've lost my edge.  I was physically uncomfortable watching this show at times -what with the show's language (*gasp*) and NUDITY (*GASP*) and all.  

I hate to say it but it seems since I've become a mother, I've turned into a PRUDE!  

I can't help it though.  Everywhere I go, everything I see, everything I do, I'm looking through this new Mom lens.  I see things differently.  It's as if since having my children, I have a higher standard to achieve simply because I'm a mother now.  I have to be a good role model and set a good example - and that colors, influences, even taints everything else.  And there's no "off duty".  This Mom lens, it's always on.    

Obviously my kids weren't at that show.  Yet, as a Mom, I could see all the ways in which it was inappropriate for them.  It's an odd thing, really.  This new hat I wear that has taken over who I used to be.

In many ways I think it's better - that being a Mom has made me a better person.  Or at least, a more conscientious person.   At times, though, I don't even recognize the person I've become.  I seem so un-fun and stick-in-the-mud-ish.  (both real words, I assure you!)  I'm a big fat party pooper who has lost my accepting open-mindedness and my piggish sense of humor and replaced it with serious, grown-up responsibility and duty to my children.   

And they deserve that.  

I just wish I could lighten up a little.  

For them.  

Because they deserve that, too.

Simple Woman's Day Book...January 25, 2010

Since I got slack for "finking out" on this weekly journal, I felt guilted (or should I say "challenged"?) into participating again today.  (Thanks, Heidi!  I can always use the motivation!)

This is from Peggy at The Simple Woman’s Daybook.

FOR TODAY...January 25, 2010

Outside my window...it is dark, the wind is whipping and is repeatedly kicking on the motion light in our driveway.

I am thinking...deep, heavy thoughts.  My brain is weary with profound, meaning-of-life type topics today.

I am thankful for...my two boys who keep me going and give me more than one reason to smile and laugh every day!

From the kitchen...the dirty dishes are calling from dinner ("Pssst....WASH ME!")

I am wearing...a ratty, old t-shirt, the world's most unflattering, yet most comfortable pants of all time, and my new fuzzy bathrobe.

I am remembering...to call my sister back when I'm done with this.  (Note to Self:  Call my sister back when I'm done with this!!!!)

I am creating...ideas and business plans for the new Etsy adventure my sister and I are embarking on (more on that to come...)

I am going...to bed early (I tell myself that every day though so we'll see.  However, typing this up at 9:30 at night and still having to call my sister back doesn't bode well for my chances yet again tonight...)

I am reading...very little for myself these days.  However, I do have two catalogs I would like to peruse before I call it a night (Birthday Express to plan Nathaniel's upcoming 4th birthday, and One Step Ahead because they just have fantastic, albeit gadgety, type stuff!)  Before bed I read Nathaniel Dr. Seuss' Hop on Pop and let him look at his fire truck book with his flashlight "for ONE minute"!

I am hoping...to wake up tomorrow to sunshine and happy children.  It's amazing what a funk I can start out in when I wake to one or both of them yelling, screaming, crying, or complaining.

I am hearing...thumpity thump music and loud bass from one of my neighbors' cars, the furnace blower, the rustling of Alex in his crib as he flops around trying to get comfortable and/or track down his beloved pacifier.

Pondering these words...Nathaniel asked me the other day if my Mom and Dad were also Daddy's Mom and Dad.  While at first I thought, "Ew! No, honey!  That'd be gross!", I have been reflecting on that question a lot because it's an indication of his little mind making all sorts of interesting connections and trying to figure stuff out.  I love watching his brain grow and expand as he learns how things in this crazy world work.  I could learn a thing or two (or 1000) from him.

Around the house...the couch cushions are still on the floor from where Nathaniel and I snuggled to watch Scooby Doo before his bedtime.

On my mind...so many things.  Too many to list here. At least not all in one blog post!

Noticing that...when the furnace isn't running and the TV isn't on, I can clearly hear the ticking of the clock above my mantle and the humming of the (only) light in the living room.

One of my favorite things...I am totally addicted to my camera phone.  I love having it on me to snap a photo of anything, anywhere, and then upload it or send it off to someone (e.g. my husband) who can't be there to witness things firsthand.

A few plans for the rest of the week:  Would you believe I really have none?  We are meeting Heidi at the mall on Wednesday for our weekly "walk" and coffee stop.  We should call it "walk and talk" or something, since that's what we do!!  It's food for the soul!  I do have to celebrate my sister-in-law's birthday (the 28th) somewhere in there, but otherwise I have no plans!

Here is picture for thought I am sharing...

I sure do love these boys!!!

Regrets

We've all heard it:  "Live life with no regrets".  I'm not sure how that's even possible.  I, personally, have a laundry list of regrets.

Most of them are small -  I should have gone away to college.  Done the whole "college" thing.  Worked less, played more.  I wish I had worn a "real" wedding dress when Dave and I got married.  Stuff like that.

You get the picture.

But some of them are HUGE - People I've hurt.  Choices I've made.  Paths I've chosen.

Obviously there are a slew of things I DON'T regret.  Blessings in my life that I am forever grateful for.  Many of which would not BE if not for the path my life has taken.  But to live life without any regrets?!?  I'm still figuring that one out.  If anyone has a magic formula for that one, let me know.

Athazagoraphobia - The Fear of Forgetting

I take a lot of pictures. I've captured more than 18,000 images of my children and our lives in the last 12 months alone. (And those are just the ones I've KEPT after editing). In the "olden days" that would have been the equivalent of more than two rolls of 35mm film taken EVERY day. Can you imagine? My husband jokes that I could print all my pictures and put them together to make a flip book that would essentially play a video of our life as the pages were turned.

I realize that's a lot of pictures and many would say I have issues. Which I'm not arguing, but I take a LOT of pictures with good reasons.

1.) I enjoy the art of capturing life's precious moments. I often challenge myself to see things differently and take MANY pictures of the same thing in an effort to get one REALLY good one. Most of my photos are taken just to freeze that moment in time so I can remember it for years to come.

2.) I desperately strive to document each new milestone and the tiniest of quirks for each of my children through pictures (the way Alex squints his eyes when he's smiling REALLY big or the short lived comfort Nathaniel found in sniffing his blanket when he was tired or upset).

3.) Not only that but photos are an easier/less space consuming way to hold onto the little things I adore from their childhood like some of my favorite outfits, the toys they loved most or the adorable giraffe print swing they found comfort in.

Well apparently not everyone gets that about me. Twice in the last 24 hours I have been instructed to put my camera down and just live life. Just live life? I thought that's what I was doing. In fact I'm trying to soak it all in and hold onto it for dear life which is why I'm IN the midst of life 100%, flashing away. I had never thought about the fact that I might actually be missing something by trying so hard not to miss anything. That's seriously disturbing.

Truth be told, I have the world's worst memory and I'm afraid if I don't capture it on film, with time stamp technology/data to remind me of the particulars, that I'll forget the good stuff. That terrifies me. I don't want to forget a thing.

But as desperate as I am to create a scrapbook of my life through pictures, I think what I fear most of all is forgetting what I can't document in pictures or on DVD. The little details. The smell of my babies' skin. The softness of their hair. The way their tiny hands fit in mine, or how cute their toes wiggle when I tickle them. That's the stuff I'm seeing, soaking in, and cherishing out from behind the camera. At least I'm trying to.

I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing that my kids will inevitably remember me as the woman behind the camera taking pictures of everything they ever did. But I do hope that they also remember that I put the camera down to snuggle them on the couch cushions on the floor, chase them into their bedrooms to hide from the monsters, and give them the world as often as possible.