Medicating My Way Through Motherhood

I wonder how much ibuprofen a mother takes in her lifetime as a result of being a parent?  Today, while I was shopping at my friendly local Target, I was able to partake in one of my favorite pastimes, people watching.  Being that I was at Target, the comment worthy Walmart people were absent, but I did notice two mothers of toddlers talking.  They were clearly catching up after a prolonged absence in each others lives.  They were both quite animated shaking their heads and gesturing.  Both were fighting to share how hard and challenging things had become now that they were mothers.  It brought me back to that season of my life. The dreaded infant and toddler years.  These seem like dark years when you are in them, years full of sleeplessness, repetitive mundane tasks, the absence of reason & little to no makeup.  However, they are only the beginning.

The early years definitely have their trials and for some they are even noteworthy.  I personally have an entire journal full of brutal details that even now make me shudder just thinking of them.  But, the problem with the early years, is that they are just that.  You see there are many, many more years to come.  I now find myself in what is referred to, at least by me, as the middle years.  These years bring a different reason for pain medication.  They are the beginning of the heartbreak and worry stage.  Nothing can prepare a mom for the first time she sees or finds out her child has been rejected by their peers or when the healthy baby she once held so tightly in her arms is now a boy in the hospital unable to breathe on his own.  The body can't help but react in such a manner that a pain reliever washed down with a glass of wine is the only cure.  Now having once been a part of the early years that changed and moved on, I am very much aware that the late years are coming and will no doubt arrive with great force.

I can't write about the late years with any real insight, I haven't quite arrived yet.  I have witnessed and heard the cries of mothers as they express the hurt and pain they feel over the helplessness that has moved into their lives if not permanently, then at least with a long term lease.  I don't know, but am pretty sure if you were to do a study it would show that mothers of teens make up a huge chunk of recipients for prescription mood altering drugs.  Or, at the very least make up most of the numbers at drunken bunko nights.

Being a parent never ends. Once the late years have been brushed under the rug with a little therapy, the later years start.  These are the sideline years, where the problems get bigger and more profound, but you are no longer an active player in the game.  You just get to sit back and pray that they have been equipped with what they need to survive this thing called life.  This takes me back to those two moms at the Target, and what I want to say to them and myself is, "Don't make a big deal out of the small things, because soon enough there will be big things and you don't need your stomach messed up from previous ibuprofen overdosing." 

Winter Solstice

I find the Winter Solstice perhaps one of the most exciting days of the year.  I have always loved the fact that it is shorter than any other day of the year.  Less hours for making mistakes or for demanding people to demand things of me.  Just a brilliant gift handed down from Mother Nature.  There is a touch of sadness that comes with this day and that is the gradual lengthening of days that begins tomorrow.  Before I know it, the days are so long that I have made twice as many mistakes and those demanding people have an infinite list of requests that I apparently have all the time in the world to grant. I guess if things seemed always as perfect as today, then I wouldn't view them as perfect.   The perfection of today has included an unexpected errand to a friend's house, an extra long and expensive trip to the grocery store, the weekly OCD cleaning of my kitchen and furniture & the preparation of two hot meals for those demanding people previously mentioned.  Thank goodness I can call it quits early.  Happy Winter Solstice!

The Complications of Living Simply

I long to have a simple life.  One with few possessions and even fewer complications.  "Is this possible?", I ask myself.  And, self usually responds, "Yes, but at a price."

I imagine writing myself into my favorite novel, it's one where there is a large sparsely furnished Victorian set in the middle of a small quaint town in the north of Scotland.  There is no television, no family drama and just enough money for the necessities of life and a good bottle of wine.  To me, the plot is irrelevant, I love this book for the setting.  It pulls at my inner desire to live in a world where quiet companionship with loved ones and nature are valued.  I speak of a novel, not a non-fiction piece because, although what is written is not completely unattainable, it is something that comes with a price many of us don't want to pay.

To live simply, is to live opposite of the mainstream.  The best analogy I can think of is the Salmon that swim up the Columbia river each year against the current, in order to lay their eggs.  They do this with a blind determination that, in the end, brings success along with a battered worn out body and then finally death.  It is a death brought on by exhaustion.  Fighting the current continuously takes everything they have.  If the Salmon relents even for a moment, it is pushed back in the direction of the river's flow.  The same can be said of the world we live in. 

I can make the decision to buy only what I need, what is practical, but unfortunately all around me is marketing at its best.  It comes in the form of the television, computer, phone, consumer tracking, and even friends and acquaintances.  I can resist this marketing, but at a cost.  It takes continuous strength of mind and character.  If I slip up even for a moment, I am pushed back into the 'must have' frenzy that is all around me.

I can choose to find my happiness in quiet companionship.  But, as I am still learning most relationships come with a nice dose of human nature.  Everyone, including myself strives for their own way.  We can be amicable only for so long, before self rises up and demands its due.  Companionship is attainable, but the quiet can only come when both parties are continuously denying themselves.  Or, put another way choosing to push against their true natures .  We are human and will fail from time to time.  Failure often brings its friend, drama, and quiet makes a soundless exit.

Often, I seek to find pleasure in nature. There is nothing more healing than a basic walk through the woods or thrilling than a view that only mother nature could provide.  However, even nature has its follies. More times than not, the spectacular views have been purchased and sold to an elite few. Woods have been reduced to clumps of trees surrounding freshly built suburbia, hardly suitable for peaceful strolls.  Thankfully, nature can manifest itself in many ways.  I can still choose to enjoy things like a warm sunny day or a cozy rainy afternoon.  Unfortunately, my moods are rarely in tune with the weather.  I usually want rainy when its sunny and vice versa. 

"So, it is possible to live simply.", I tell myself, but it is also exhausting.  Is that a price I am willing or more importantly able to pay?  I don't have an answer, honestly I am afraid of coming up with one.  I don't want to stop hoping or believing that I will one day be the Salmon that not only lays her eggs, but lives to tell her story.

Brilliant Observation

My 6 year old son:  "Mom!  I don't get it?  Why do moms do all the work and dads just walk around?"

Me:  "Ask your dad and get back to me."

Just a small glimpse into my world.  It's moments like this that I live for.  I am not sure if this is a compliment, but I have decided to take it as one.  My days are filled with one unmomentous task after another, and often I don't think they are noticed.  Well, except when I am vacuuming right in front of the television, during an important telecast of 'Jimmy Neutron'.  So, when my cantankerous and opinionated little friend throws a statement like this at me, all I can do is smile and think, "I must be doing something right."

Balancing the Holidays

I must say, I am quite worn out from the holiday season.  Shockingly, I had 90% of my shopping done before Thanksgiving.  My exhaustion comes from 'celebrating' the season.  I spent years of my life hoping and wishing to be part of the Christmas parties and celebrations all around me. Now I find myself longing to curl up alone on my couch and watch that movie with the ugly green guy that hates Christmas.

My family wasn't the most sociable lot and my mother's only consent to holiday traditions was the annual decorating of the not so edible sugar cookies.  When I became an adult, my own insecurities kept me from being the sociable creature that was apparently hiding inside.  A little FYI, insecure people don't tend to get invited to parties and never throw them.  It wasn't until fairly recently, when I decided to let my little sprightly light shine, that I began to experience all the season has to offer.  I am now beginning to realize that perhaps 'all' may be a bit much.

Now, I am a great touter of balance.  Mostly because I rarely have it in my own life.  In my exuberance to experience all that is merry, I seem to go a bit overboard.  There are the obvious housewife things, like baking cookies (not my mom's recipe), making gingerbread houses, decorating the house, twinkle lights outside, etc.  But, what seems to push me over the top is my incessant need to host one extravaganza after another along with the acceptance of all invitations that come my way.  Now that my insecurities are nicely hidden, I can't seem to keep the offers to socialize away.

So, here I find myself half way through the season having hosted two parties with three to go.  And, I have lost count of the number of festive events I have already attended.  Quite honestly, I think my unsociable mother may have been on to something.  Her holidays may have been boring, but no one will ever be able to say she was stressed.  I really have no desire to revert back to the days of my youth and isolation, but do feel that I need to work on the balance thing.

That said, I am currently working on a list of things NOT to repeat for next year and the reasons why.  I plan on taping the list to my box of fall decorations, so that I will have plenty of time to ponder the voice of reason before I start inviting the entire planet over for an ornament, sock, cookie or kid exchange.  I'll let you know next year if I finally find balance, at least in this one area of my life.

Ambiance

I'm supposed to be writing my Christmas letter, at this moment.  I packed the kids up and sent them out in the yard so I could watch them ice skate while I listen to my James Taylor Christmas CD, in hopes of gaining some inspiration.  It just doesn't seem to be working, instead I have checked my email for the 10th time today and am now rambling away on here. 

My life no matter how hard I try is not a picture post card.  I have spent decades creating ambiance in order to set the tone for a perfect life.  Although the ambiance is often remarkable, really people actually have been known to make remarks, it seems to provide nothing more than a bit of background noise to the life we are trying to live around it.

It's funny but my ice skaters never seem to stay out side for more than five minutes, pre lit trees burn out in random spots, pillows get smooshed, whimsical light fixtures get made fun of, delicate touches go unnoticed and rooms more often than not are rearranged to best execute the latest Nerf battle.

I am constantly telling myself that post cards are silly and unrealistic. Something that no one would really want, if it wasn't for the artistic eye of a talented photographer telling them otherwise.  However, my mind wanders to another thought that makes me stop and say, "But, I love receiving post cards!"  Especially ones that for a moment take me away from my life into places that speak a language this ordinary housewife most likely will never learn. So, I say bring on the ambiance!  After all, who doesn't head to their mailbox each day harboring a secret desire for some fun mail?  I mean in a day and age where paper trails are now nonexistent, we somehow have still held onto this ancient tradition of Christmas cards.  I, in fact, heard of a person today that despite her exhaustion will send them out again this year out of fear that she will be removed from others' lists if she doesn't.

In my own crazy way, I have yet again brought my ramblings full circle back to my own avoidance of writing the dreaded Christmas letter.  This year I will once more muster up the strength to share with 40 semi strangers the ins and outs of our year, in the hopes that a little ambiance in the form of holiday postcards will soon find a place in my mailbox.

How to Accomplish Nothing

Accomplishing nothing in my day is an art that I have never quite perfected.  But, every now and again the 'Perfect Storm' of a day hits and things work out just brilliantly.  It is during these days that I tell myself to try and find the formula for future use.  At this very moment, I don't have anything clear cut or fool proof but believe I am on to a few things. 

Step one actually begins the night before.  Try to do your best to have a get together, party or crazy evening that keeps you up past your bedtime.

Step two is critical, so no matter how tempting it may be to get up alert and on time, try to resist.  You must stay in bed long enough to throw off your entire morning schedule.

Step three is not something that you can always control, but I think it definitely helps with the execution of the remaining steps.  Try to have either a snowy or rainy day, this does wonders in helping one to function sub par.

Step four is to receive a phone call early in the day from someone who is also interested in accomplishing nothing and therefore is willing to ramble on about utter nonsense for a minimum of one hour.

Step five is to look at the clock, when step four is over, and decide to give up.

It is not only critical, but imperative to 'give up'.  DO NOT be tempted to make up for lost time or 'try and get a few small things done'.  Just QUIT.

As a stay at home mom, I hate to admit that I have wasted days, mostly because it is a constant battle to prove to the rest of the world that I have a valuable place in society.  But every now and again, I'll stop jumping from one amazing task to another and  follow steps one through five very carefully.  I must say though, in all honesty, these days of waste are the ones that give me the strength to jump through the fiery hoops known as my life.

Realistic Perspective

Whenever one decides to be oneself fully and completely, they need to expect to have to deal with some confrontation in their lives.  Being real with yourself and people doesn't automatically absolve you from dealing with the consequences of your actions.

I am constantly saying things that I wish I could take back.  Or as a friend of mine says about herself, "I have no filter."  In order to let my little Tansy light shine, I have to remain as unguarded as possible.  This can and has gotten very dangerous.  I used to think that being real with myself and everyone around me brought a certain freedom.  And to some extent it does, but it doesn't' free me from having to face awkward or even hurtful situations as a result of 'being me'.

I don't have any plans of becoming someone else, since I really don't know how to be other people.  But, I have decided to try and limit my self exposure to the world.  Not everyone is going to find me likable or interesting and despite being someone that needs constant affirmation of my complete genius, I have accepted this.  Or at least am making a statement to all the world that I want to accept this. 

Ultimately, I hope to come to a place where being me is about being me and not about finding acceptance as me.  I will give you a moment to try and figure that one out .......... Okay, let me be more articulate.  Being myself should be for the sole purpose of achieving what I was created for, not so that everyone will love me.  That being said feel free to comment about how deep and amazing you find me.

Broken Promises

Being the author of a well read blog brings great power.  With this power, comes the ability to change anything I want about how things are done.  That being said,  I hear by take back my promise to make 365 posts in 365 days.  Seriously, as most of you have figured out by now, I really don't have that much to say.  The stress to write everyday is getting to be too much.  I realize that I am letting down so many people, but like many in power that have gone before me have shown, it is my job to look out for myself and only myself.  For those of you that would like to know when I am sharing my 'wisdom' with the world, feel free to click on the subscribe button at the top of my page.  Each time I have something life changing to say, you will receive a notification via email.  In closing, I just want to give a special thank you to my loyal followers of the last 30 posts.  I believe that your faithfulness has melded our lives together for eternity.

Tansy

Things Aren't Always What They Seem

Tonight I am making peppermint chocolate/white chocolate chip cookies for some firemen.  I bring this up for one reason.  Sometimes things sound better than they really are. At this point, I am considering taking our family name off the thank you note attached to them.  I have visions of  being tracked down and accused of attempting to murder 40 volunteer firefighters.  Can someone die from undercooked cookies? Anyway that's all I have for tonight.

Tradition or Progressive Innovation?

Tonight, while cooking dinner, I heard on the radio some advice from a family expert.  This advice was nothing new, in fact it is something that I have already put into practice with my own family.  The 'advisor' simply stated that we as adults with children need to cut ties with our parents during the holidays and start our own family traditions. He was quite emphatic about the importance of everyone doing this.  Thank goodness that I have already been doing just this very thing for the last 10 years, of course it was started mainly as an excuse to avoid my in-laws and all there traditions that were so different from my own.   Now, thanks to my kids never forgetting anything festive I have ever done from year to year, we have managed to load the three week holiday window full of our own 'special' traditions that my future daughter-in-laws will no doubt find unsettling to their psyche.

But, here is the thought I had after hearing this great advice.  Why spend years building up traditions that your own kids for the 'sake' of their future families will have to walk away from?  Years of excessive decorating, gingerbread house making, wassailing, Christmas cookie decorating, and Christmas Eve pajama gift opening, not to mention the advent calendars and Christmas parties with friends all so that one day my kids can say, "Sorry mom and dad, but my wife doesn't like you and the family counselor says we need to build our own traditions."

Will I find myself sitting around drinking spiked eggnog, listening to my outdated Harry Connick Jr. Christmas CD, while 'decorating' the house with what is left of my 20 plus year old fake garland?  Odds are the tree will have long since gone the way of a garage sale.  Perhaps my husband, the cats, and I will have started a few new traditions like watching "Elf" in our Snuggies while passing around the canned gourmet cat food.

Isn't a tradition by definition something that is passed down from generation to generation. If this Christmas time together thing is only supposed to last 18 - 20 years max, why do we call it a tradition?  Perhaps a better title would be 'Progressive Innovation'.  Okay, so those were the only two antonyms for 'tradition' that I could find.  But, I think I've made my point.

By the way, as a side note I just want to add that I take no responsibility for my run on sentences, typos and grammatical errors.  According to Jane Austen this is just part of my make up due to my preselected gender.

"...the usual style of letter writing among women is faultless, except in three particulars...A general deficiency of subject, a total inattention to stops, and a very frequent ignorance of grammar."

Northanger Abby

All is Fair in Love and War

I have started and erased three different ideas tonight.  Nothing sounds right to me.  I must still be sick of my own voice.  As I am typing, my husband is trying to figure out how to keep his Clark Griswold trees from blowing the circuit and consequently locking up the garage door and stopping the basement pump from, well, pumping.  The brilliant electrician ran all of our outdoor plugs on one circuit.  I'm being serious, he was probably a brilliant man. However, even he could not have anticipated someone, a.k.a my husband, lighting up five evergreens with 5000 sparkly lights.  Anyway, this is our great dilemma for the evening. 

The boys are running around having warfare with the next door neighbor. I know this will not end well; it never does.  Soon the cries of injustice will be heard all through the house.  I don't think they have yet learned that all is fair in love and war.  I guess if I were being honest, I would have to say that I don't think I have learned that one myself.

  At this moment I am trying to imagine a world where anytime there was an infraction or wrong done against us, we just went, "Eh, it's all fair."  Stuff would still happen, but we wouldn't get so ticked off with each other.  If we were never ticked off, then we couldn't become angry, and with out anger what would we fight about?  Not much really.  I mean the obvious things would still be there to have altercations over, things like power and money.  But, I like to hope that we would be a bit more polite about it.   Kind of like when my kids play soccer and we are encouraged to cheer for everyone, even the other team and then at the end all the players have to line up and say good job, over and over again, to each other.  Could you imagine during WWII, the Japanese saying, "Wow! Great job on that Atomic bomb thing; we just didn't see it coming.  Kudos to you guys."  Just something to think on or not, it's your choice.

Why Do Cats Seem So Much More Loving in the Winter?

I am an animal lover.  Well, let me rephrase.  I like all animals, but LOVE cats.  I find that I can now say this not only without shame, but with a certain bit of pride.  So many people today either can't stand cats or are conveniently allergic to them.  These very same people and many others out there are all avid dog lovers.  I believe that for once in my life, I now find myself part of an exclusive group. 

The 'cat people' group is a rare and somewhat novel place to find oneself.  Now, I know that a few of our members are lonely spinsters or widows that are covered with their own special 'coat' of fur.  But, most of us are just uniquely superior beings that enjoy the challenge of earning love.  I get that love should be freely given and all that.  But, I have always taken great pride in earning things, even affection.

 No cat just gives its affection away, their love and trust is built slowly over time. Usually, after several days, weeks, even months of owning a new furry friend I will wake up to find them curled up next to me purring.  What an amazing moment! Through patience and perseverance I've earned something's trust.  I know in these moments I always have a big smile on my face.  That is until I throw back the covers to discover, "Holy Crap it's freezing!"   I must admit each year after the end of winter, I conveniently forget the suspiciously affectionate behavior my cats' show towards me, especially when I happen to be covered in blankets. 

So, maybe their trust is never fully earned and I do feel a level of disappointment when I realize that weather has a lot to do with the 'love' I am given, but it still makes me feel special.  Not the short bus special, but the good kind that says I mean something to someone.  Even if it is just warmth.  I have yet to find my cats curled up with visiting winter guests or my unpredictable 6 year old, so I choose to believe that maybe some trust has been earned after all.  Anyway, I like having goals to work towards.  If I had a dog, there would be nothing left to do except wait for the hero worship to begin when ever I walked in the room.  I think that would get old.  Very much like an unearned vacation or pay check.  This could get very political if I don't stop things where they are.  I must say though, that these ramblings of mine seem to get worse each time. I must try to remember to write these things before I am worn out after a long day of non stop giving everyone else what they need.  It so hard to be such giver. Yes, I am aware that I keep using the same words over and over, but I used up all my good words when I was giving today.  Now, I need to finish with a great closing line.
 
Maybe, a hero worshipping dog wouldn't be such a bad idea after all, perhaps I'll look into it.

Time to Be Quiet

Do you ever get sick of your own voice?  Well, I often do and today I am just tired of hearing both my written and verbal.  I can't say for sure why I feel this way, but as with most things in my life, I have a theory.  Perhaps its just some inner gauge that is letting me know, it's time to be quiet. 

So often instead of listening I go off on a blurting spree, saying whatever is on my mind.  Although, in the moment I believe that what I have said is of the utmost importance, often I have lost an opportunity to learn something or just get a different perspective.  Then, to make matters worse, on those occasions that I find myself alone and in no danger of interrupting others, I rarely take the opportunity to reflect.  Nope, at such times, I am usually off to my next 'creative' plan or idea for internal or external improvement.  I tend to grab one of my many notepads that I leave lying around, for just these moments, and write whatever my 'voice' happens to be telling me.  I have pieces of paper tucked all over the place reminding me to do everything from cutting branches from the yard to decorate with, to finding a parenting book that will help me avoid all those pesky errors that everyone around me seems to be making.

 When that 'sick' feeling comes on, the one that is trying to tell me, "shhhh" , I make a big effort to do just that.  I find, at these times, that my spirit craves the listening and reflecting in the same way my body craves vegetables after a holiday food binge.  Life can't always be one big extravaganza.  In order for anything good to come out, things of value need to be put in.  I think perhaps that I would become mad or insane, if everything I said or did was of my own creation. 

So, with that said tonight I am off to listen even if it is only to my own reflections.

Game Point

Post Thanksgiving dinner while we were all sitting around talking, the final point was scored.   Here's the transcript of the incredible victory.

Me:  My kids are exhausting me, this is clearly why I haven't aged well.

Mom:  I agree...

Me:  WHAT!  I can't believe you just agreed to that.

Mom:  Wait let me finish, I mean that yes I agree it is exhausting and that it ages you.

Me:  How is that supposed to make me feel better?

Jessica: I think she just got Game Point.

Comments From Contributing Writer Jessica

I am honored to be this month's contributing writer.  Tansy is taking a break today to enjoy the holiday with her family. 

Actually, Tansy would like to contribute, but she is still reeling from the double blow that I dealt her today.  Everyone has their gifts, mine is cards.  I'm not unusually gifted, just unusually gifted for this family.  Especially when compared to Tansy.  She has heart and spirit, but that has never been enough to secure a victory against my genius. Despite her emotional outbursts and artistic movements , again and again she loses.

There is actually a life lesson tied into all of this. Sometimes the "good" guy doesn't win; sometimes no matter how hard we try it doesn't go our way. We may sweat over, research, pray through, etc a difficult situation believing we will win and still "lose". Do we then give up and say "whatever will be, will be"? I say no.

I have two kids of my own and I have often told them when working with a difficult personality "You don't know where that person is coming from. What is there home life? What are they going through that causes where they are?" This enables them to step back, have compassion, try a little understanding. In the case of the card games today, I needed these wins. I won't go into why, but I NEEDED these wins. She lost and met a need of mine. It hurt her, but did good ultimately. She gracefully gave to me a gift.

So I say sweat, research, pray and follow through and if in the end you still lose, take comfort in the fact you may have just provided a MUCH NEEDED gift for someone else.

Back Pocket Score Card

So, today my sister and I were out purchasing some ingredients for our Thanksgiving dinner. Like all of our 'trips' to the store together this one was full of some truly brilliant comments and ideas.  Just in case anyone was wondering what exactly red velvet cake was, it is in fact ... well I still don't know, but we had a lovely discussion with the resident baker, Christa.  And, even manged to snag a 'free' sample. 

Now, shortly before checking out at the store, our mother called my sister to get a better idea of how much longer they would be on the road, and quickly stated that they were on the Muskogee turnpike.  Jess(I have been given permission to use her first name) replied, "Do you mean the Tulsa one?"  "No, the Muss-ke-ki-ghe one...wait let me check my Mapquest.", was the response she heard.  Finally, after a short pause mom said,  "The Mus-kiki/Tulsa turnpike."  Later, Jess told me, "Ding! Point for me".  She then proceeded to say she was going to keep a score card in her back pocket, and every time she was proved right she would mark a point.  But, every time she was criticized by our mom, mom would get a point.  At the end of the visit, if she had more tally marks then mom than she would win.  Instantly, I piped in that I wanted to play too. 

The cards are now in the process of being put together and fingers crossed we should have a clear winner by Friday morning

No Post Yesterday

So, there was no post yesterday.  But on the flip side, I got to spend 16 hours in the car with my family.  The day was full of so much 'awfulness' that I have blocked most of it.  However, there was one bright spot.  On the last 5 min. of the journey, I was able to talk myself out of a speeding ticket.  I don't think this would have been as effective had I had all my senses intact.  Sometimes, insanity can be a wonderful asset.  A gift that I often regret being given.  But, in this instance I just want to say, "Thanks Mom and Dad".

World Traveler

It has been a long day.  See last weeks post on 'Saturday', if you happened to have bypassed that brilliant piece, to get a little elaboration on that statement.  I have no clear thoughts at the moment and really am scared for the 3 other couples we will be associating with tonight.  They aren't ones that 'get' me on a good day, so this could be a long evening for them. 
     We are leaving tomorrow morning at 5 a.m. to head to the exciting and exotic world of Wichita.  Not everyone can be blessed to have such a destination for Thanksgiving.  I will try not to rub it in too hard. But I, like most people, have to fight my boastful nature on a regular basis.  Upon arrival we will be greeted by my ever loving sister and her family.  My sister is ever loving, not her family.  They aren't an awful group, but would be better described as "ever tolerating", of us anyway.  We will relax and unwind for a few days, with my sister meeting our every whim.  Then at the end of the 2nd day, my mother and her husband will arrive. . . I'm not even sure how to continue at this point.  There is know way of knowing exactly what this will mean to the remainder of our Thanksgiving holiday and  it really isn't worth the energy of speculating.  But, I can promise that it will make for a good post.  So, please stay tuned things are about to get very interesting in this housewife's life.

Lorenzo the Yogi

Yoga classes can bring out some strange characters.  I must say my already unusual class has become quite interesting with the addition of Lorenzo the annoying over achiever.  Lorenzo doesn't look nor act like anything other than the pretentious out of shape middle class male Caucasian that he is.  Since his name seems to suggest something so very different, I went ahead and clarified your visual for you.  Each Thursday evening he arrives in his tight shorts and fitted 'work out' shirt. Without fail, he will confidently lay out his mat in the front row and proceed to do his own mini yoga class while the rest of us wait patiently for our teacher to begin.  He truly enjoys showing us his 'Downward Dogs', 'Sun Salutations' and splits, each time.  Once we do begin, he then proceeds to do everything in his power to become the star pupil.  Pushing himself to the limit on every pose.  If a comment is made by another student during the course of the evening, he ALWAYS makes a contradictory statement just because he can.  If someone says "It was dark and gloomy today"  he'll say "It was a beautiful sunny day where I was".  Perhaps he commutes to Spain, which would explain his name.  The thing that usually pushes me over the top is the final 'pose' of the evening.  It has a fancy name that I won't even attempt to spell and honestly I don't even know how to say, since my yoga teacher is French and I really have no idea what she is saying half the time.  Anyway, it is a relaxation pose, one where you are supposed to be lying on the floor with your feet grounded to the earth in a very specific way.  Lorenzo is apparently too deep and advanced for such nonsense and feels the need to sit ala Buddha during the whole thing.  I don't know, I am sure I am being mean, but he is just odd.  Oh well, I guess my class would be just like every other yoga class out there that is full of middle aged women whose 'Triangles' look more like hexagons without Lorenzo.  And, maybe he isn't a jerk showing off but someone who really believes as Shakespeare did that all the world is a stage.

Today is the eve of my 16th wedding anniversary.  Now, I am not a sentimental person or at least that is what I tell myself.  But, as the years have drifted by it seems my husband has taken a bit too much to heart my need for the unsentimental. The last two years have involved a quick trip to the only gift shop in town on his way home from work, followed by a 'family' dinner.  Because, who has time to plan for a babysitter?  Please don't think I am bitter over this, because honestly it is the day to day things that count.  Things like how he always remembers to turn on the dishwasher at night before bed. Or, how he will notice when I wear a brand new sweater that I have had for over a year and worn several times.  I mean is there any gift or restaurant out there that compare with that kind of thoughtfulness?

Let me stop here and diverge for a minute.

This has been a most interesting year for me.  I call it the year of the 'Signs'.  It seems like anything I place importance or value on seems to break.  In the beginning, I would try or hire someone to repair them.  But, within days they would break again.  After the third or fourth time this happened, I developed the theory that God was dealing with my perfectionist tendencies as well as my focus on external things.  So, I decided that nothing else gets fixed until I can do it in the right spirit.  Needless to say this has been very painful.  Just the strength it took me not to call the builder over our broken neighborhood sign bordered on superhuman.  Especially, since I am the first house in and therefore a direct reflection of the obvious neglect. 

Now, with that said I want you all to take a trip with me to yesterday evening, when I discovered that my wedding ring was broken and consequently unwearable.  Although, some may have found this liberating, I did not.  I actually found it quite alarming. "What does this mean???,  Is it a sign??? , Do I dare break my vow and try and get it fixed???  " are all thoughts that ran through my head.  Followed by, "Wouldn't it be nice if my husband took notice of this and made a grand gesture to replace this broken item."  After this thought, I told myself "Stop, don't set yourself up for failure, it takes him a year to notice you have a 'new' sweater, just be happy with the lotion from Sundries."  I was finally able to finish this dialogue with myself  by offering up the consolation that maybe, just maybe after the holidays are over I could go to one of the many tattoo parlors here in Southwest Michigan and get one of those fancy ring tattoos.  

This post seems to have become a long rabbit trail and I would love to tie it up with a nice ending.  But, honestly I have no idea how.  If you find this unacceptable, I will appease you a bit by letting you know that my strange and awkward ending could be analogy for life and marriage. Neither make much sense or is found pleasing to all parties involved.

Softening the Lines

I am in a book club, one that at times I am not quite sure I belong in, but I'll save that thought for another day.  This month I was to select our reading material.  The only requirement was that it be non fiction.  I tend to be a fiction reader myself.  Life has enough reality in it for me and rarely have I ever put into practice the revelations I find in these books.  However, there is one non fiction work that has meant a lot to me over the years, it is a book that was written more than 50 years ago.  I believe that the average woman today would have to stretch a bit to find relevance in its writings.  But, since I have never fit the average mold in any area of my life, no stretching was required on my part.  The author not only wrote so many things that truly changed my perspective as a woman, wife and mother, but she did it in a beautifully poetic way.  Each time I've read this book something different has stood out to me.  As with all good literature, one can always find something that speaks to each season of life.  I must say though I was surprised by what struck me this time, as I read.    It was about how the natural gray of a woman's hair softens the lines on her face.  For some reason I found this truly brilliant.  In our attempt to capture eternal youth or deny the natural order of aging, we have more than embraced the the idea of hiding our gray.  But, the richness of the unnatural, no matter how professionally done, brings out a garishness that only manages to heighten what we were trying to keep hidden.  I am at the beginning of the 'softening' stage of my life and almost find a certain curiosity for what this time will bring.  I don't think I want to hide or cover it.  I would like to believe that I will embrace what is to come and walk through it with the God given grace that has been placed in me.  We'll see how tonight's book discussion goes.  It is quite an eclectic group and I am afraid that most will have struggled to find relevance in this work from another era.  If I were to be truly honest, what I am really fearing is them struggling to find relevance with me. That sounds pretty droll, must be the melancholy music playing in the background on this late fall evening where winter is lurking in the distance. Next time I'll download some of that techno crap all the kids listen to these days.  I can only imagine the kind of thoughts that will provoke. 

Book Club Update:  I am apparently irrelevant.  I must console myself with the knowledge that I already knew this.

Just a Thought

Tonight, I only have it in me to offer one thought.  Even as I type this I am not sure what that thought may be.  I have spent a very long day engaged in mostly physical activities.  Perhaps 'activities' may not be the right word, since it conjures up an image of something fun or at least enjoyable.  Then again maybe there are people out there that consider washing sheets, vacuuming, cleaning 30 windows (at least), and a other random tasks fun.  So, I guess I'll leave it as 'activities'.  I find that when I spend a day in a marathon like state of only physical things that I don't give myself much of a chance for thought.   I may have one or two random things float in and out.  And, lucky for you, I do seem to remember that at some point today I gave one particular and insightful thought a good 10 seconds of my time, before moving on to more important things, such as locating the Mr. Clean so I could disinfect the litter boxes properly.  Maybe I will revisit that thought and give it some air to breathe, or at the very least let it have a life greater than its original 10 seconds:

 I wonder if the current problem I am facing in this season of my life has to do with something bigger than me?  Does this new sense of confusion and subsequent inefficiency that I fight daily have more to do with the age I now am, than with my own emotional deficiencies?  I mean is 'this' place I now seem to be just part of the journey or do I need to pull a Scarlett O'Hara and smack myself back into the focused person I once was.  Quite honestly, I'm beginning to wonder if that person ever existed, even though I find evidence daily that she once was here.  Possibly, in this very house.  I mean someone had to have organized the spices into the 'cooking' and 'baking sections I have in the kitchen.  I don't think they came with the house when we bought it?  Although, I could always check the paper work to verify. 

You are probably thinking, "that took only 10 seconds?"  No, it didn't.  Remember I was trying to give it some air.  So there it is in its breathing state floating around for all the universe to see.  My one thought of the day.

Too Many Things

I need to start making my daily lists shorter.  How is one supposed to within reason accomplish such ridiculousness.  Now, if I was placing things on there like 'wake up' or 'butter toast'  then I could see how length wouldn't be an issue.  But, when I have about 10 to 12 things ranging from finding ways around the latest LeBlanc financial crisis to dismantling the washing machine to remove the latest soccer sock from the pump, well I just can't do it anymore.  I mean forget that I haven't had a raise or promotion in years, but I just don't think my tyrant of a boss gets that I am just a mere human.  Some of you at this point, might feel the need to point out to me that I don't have a boss.  That's just not true.  I do have a boss and I have been listening to her faithfully for the last 36 years.  As a professional self motivator, I am my boss.  I don't like failure and have always taken great pride in my ability to please my authority figures.  So, in my attempt to avoid failure and receive positive affirmation from myself, I take without complaint all she places at my feet daily.  I believe all my hard work has led her to believe that I am capable of so much more than I am.  Honestly, I don't know how much longer I can keep up this pace.  Perhaps, I will wake up extra early tomorrow and place a note on the chalkboard above her normal spot for my 'lists' and kindly point out that enough is enough.  After all, I know she wouldn't want to loose me, what with the trouble of having to train someone else and deal with their learning curve and all.  I'll keep everyone posted. 

Commentless Sunday

I hate making promises, vows, or statements with deadlines.  Today, was my weekly visit to my Sunday kids.  Although in rare form, from my creative geniuses all the way to my hoodlums in the making,  I found that I just couldn't pinpoint that one brilliant comment I promised, vowed, or stated I would last week.  However, I may be able to deliver something even better.  Long after playtime, felt lesson time, and amazingly inspired craft time had ended the kids were supposed to be having quiet time.  The lights were turned low and they each were to have found  their own talk and touch free spot.  While the kids' worship leader strummed a non energizing tune on her guitar, I looked out over my minions.  Quite suddenly, I noticed that a chair against the back wall started to slide.  Then my eye was caught by a second movement.  There was another chair sliding as well.  It seemed to be almost 'chasing' the first chair.  As I slowly took in the big picture, I noticed that each chair had a child under it, and apparently chair #2 wanted to get within touching distance of chair#1.  Now chair #1 is my most law abiding citizen and was simply trying to avoid breaking the law.  But chair# 2 was truly a force to be reckoned with, thanks to his extra dose of red dye with breakfast.  As the leader and rule enforcer that I am, I simply found myself a 'spot' between them and the chase ended as quickly as it had begun.  Who needs a comment with that kind of entertainment?

I Miss My Friend Saturday

Each week as the days pass by and begin to edge closer to Friday, I start to get excited.  I have thoughts like "Thank goodness the week is almost done and Saturday will be here".  I even start to lean forward a little when I walk, as if that will somehow get me to the weekend sooner.  Yet, Saturday always ends up being my  worst nightmare.  A day so full of endless lists and details that it makes Monday thru Friday seem like a vacation to the beach.  The pain I feel in each muscle of my body due to the mental and physical exhaustion is nothing compared to the emotional anguish caused by the sheer betrayal of it all.  How could my dear friend do this to me, again?  And, shame on me for allowing it.  I know better.  Saturdays are brutal, just a frantic day full of  endless errands and kids' sporting events, with a touch of home improvement thrown in because, why not.  If I were to be honest with myself, there is no day I look forward to more than Monday.  Aw, the sweet calm of routine and structure.  So, where does this excitement for weekends stem from?  Obviously, it must date back to my childhood and the desire to be 'free' from the demands and dramas of the classroom.  Saturday always welcomed me without fail with morning cartoons and my dad's enormous pancakes.  He would actually give it to you for free if you finished the whole thing.  Anyway, this day was my dear friend, a kind of shelter from a cruel dark world.  Then at some point, it started to turn on me and it became darkness itself.  I have known about this horrible change for many years and know I should run from it, or at least not anticipate our inevitable meeting, each week.  Yet, I must have an eternal optimist living somewhere deep inside me that hopes, if not quite believes, that the goodness that was once there may return again.

No 'A' Game Today

I am a great mom.  Really, I am caring, dedicated, and an emotional rock at least 60% of the time.  So, why do I suddenly have the fear that I could have a special visit any day now.  Well, I'll tell you.  This morning started out very much the same as all my Fridays do.  I forced myself out of bed 10 min. ahead of schedule to make sure everything was in order for my cleaning lady who shows up promptly at sometime between 8:15 and 9:25.  Sure enough, like clock work she arrives at 8:37.  Anyway, while she was upstairs sprucing  things up for my follow up cleaning later in the day, I fed my kids breakfast, made sure they both did their online school work, and had them start on a math lesson.  My children being their uncooperative selves, were not helping the smooth running of the morning and one had even escaped to 'get dressed' while the other was making dramatic sounds over his work.  I could hear the cleaning lady heading to the main floor and location of the 'school' room and decided we would take a 'break' until she was done 'sprucing' this area for me.  A few minutes later my youngest is all dressed, it's amazing what he managed to accomplish in 30 min, and heading back to the school room, when I informed him that he could go down to the basement with his brother and we would finish later.  As I am walking away, I hear him call out, quite loudly, to his brother, "Mom said we don't have to do school today!"  I froze and cringed at the same time.  Oh well, he is probably right, we most likely won't revisit our education and if the cleaning lady feels the need to right this societal wrong, so be it. One can't always be on their 'A' game, but everyone knows you fake it in front of others.  We must appear perfect and flawless, not just to avoid criminal punishment as in this instance, but more importantly to make others feel awful about themselves and their flaws.  I mean people can't just go around messing up and being real, that would shift the entire balance of the world.  I shudder at the thought of what may happen to the universe if we started showing a little compassion and understanding.  I will now banish that thought, it is just too frightening.

Not a Pretty Thought, But One I Had Just This Morning

On this one week anniversary of my blog, I thought I would take a break from talking about myself and discuss something that has to do with the world at large.  Is it possible for a person's death to have been in vain?  Apparently, not in America.  When a person's child, parent, sibling, or rat dies suddenly and unexpectedly here in our country most feel the need to immortalize them.  Understand that I am not belittling the sadness of losing a loved one, especially when it happens suddenly, but at what point was it decided that 'providence' is a bad word and that crap in a fallen world shouldn't happen?  Some deaths are just in vain.  There, I have stated my opinion.  This latest thought or opinion has come from keen observations over the last several years, from a combination of articles and news stories, personal acquaintances, and people with signs on their cars.  I'll start with articles and news stories to clarify.  I once read an article where a woman's 10 year old son choked to death on a hot dog.  This is a TRUE story.  Apparently, she had often cut his hot dog into small pieces and this particular time was no exception.  In her grief and outrage, she started a petition to have the hot dog companies place a warning label on their packages.  Now, I am sorry that 'Ted' died, but there is no need to justify his death by forcing an entire food industry to point out the obvious, which is chew your food before swallowing.  Now on a more personal level, I know of a couple that had lost their teenage daughter due to a tragic car accident involving some black ice on the road.  This is tragic and I  won't say that I find any humor in her actual death.  But, for the next ten years they sponsored a race to raise money in order for them to give out bike helmets to school children in their daughter's memory.  How does giving out bike helmets to a bunch of middle and upper middle class children makes this not a death in vain?  I just don't see it.  And, last but not least is the memorial signs on the back windows of cars.  I'm just going to be blunt here these are usually 'old beat up cars'.  It's not very often you see a nice new BMW with one of these.  How does placing "Eunice Smithhopper Apr. 2, 1950 - Jan. 5, 1990" on a 'car' honor her memory?  I don't get it.  Stuff happens, there is pain in this world, and Eunice didn't live the full life many had hoped.  But, we no longer view these thoughts as an acceptable part of our reality.  No, we have to make 'good' out of every single circumstance.  In closing, I just want you all to know that there is now an undisclosed amount of money added to the "People Who are too Poor to Pay for Their Pet's Life Saving Procedure" fund at our local vet, on behalf of my son's dead mouse, Jerry.  Just in case our family thought, even for a moment, her life was in vain.

November 5, 2008 - October 2, 2010

The Lost Post

Due to my error being found so amusing on the blog I accidentally posted to, I have recovered the not so long lost post.  Thanks Janice and Julia. 

Today, I came across an article that shared five ways to give cheap Christmas gifts.  None of the ideas were anything new, and many caused me embarrassment at just the thought of giving them.  I don't know why the embarrassment exactly, because I am sure my father in law would love to get a coupon for a free foot massage from me.  Anyway, one of these ideas cleared a nice little rabbit trail for my mind to travel down.  This little trail had a sign that read 'Ambitions'.  As the day wore on and my trail took many twists and turns, I came to realise that I may be the only living human that has accomplished all their ambitions before middle age or in my case a little past it.  Not much history of longevity on the family tree.  As I was about to pat myself on the back, it dawned on me that my ambition list was not only short, but hadn't been upgraded since 9th grade.  Graduate high school and then subsequently college:  check.  Get married to Mr. Good Enough* (See book of the same title):  check.  Teach a few annoying, I mean precious children everything they need to know to pass the latest standardized test and nothing more:  check.  Have one and a half to two children of my own:  check.  Sing karaoke to a few friends and several senior citizens:  check.  That's my list in its entirety, at least what comes to mind at the this late hour.  But, you get my point.  Although satisfying to know that I am not a complete failure in life, it dawned on me that perhaps I need to come up with some new ambitions.  As I type this, all I have so far is ... nothing, just a sea of blankness.  So, I'll have to get back to you on what I come up with.  I assure you it will be 'not' amazing.  But, it will be truly unique to the person I have become and definitely something I can obtain in less than half a lifetime.  No need to deal with failure at this point in my life.

I Had a Great Post

Not even five minutes ago I had an amazing post, probably one of my rare 'brilliant' ones.  But, in my tired stupidity managed to post it to someone else's blog.  Needless to say in a moment of unrare panic, I not only deleted it from their page, but from existence.  Due to extreme exhaustion and the fact that genius cannot be repeated, I am unable to reconstruct it from memory.  But, since I vowed to myself and my sister, the only person willing to comment on my ramblings, that I would post everyday for 365 days, I needed to place something in today's spot.  This vow has to do with those 'ambitions' I was writing about.  Oh wait, that was deleted.  Another time perhaps, when genius outplays reality.

Why are Colored Lights Just so Tacky?

I am taking quite a chance starting a post right now.  My husband is working late, the kids are still up and about, and I have two cats desperately trying to make eye contact with me in hopes of being fed their evening meal.  But, I have what appears a 'moment' and am afraid of losing it to life.  So, I press on.  Christmas is still 7 weeks away, and our Thanksgiving menu has yet to be planned. Yet, the retail world and my 6 year old have decided that it is time to bring out the  holiday decorations.  I have heard nothing for days except how much my little friend wants colorful lights this year.  Not just on the tiny tree in his room, but every where.  " They are just so pretty!"  I have spent years dreading this moment.  Somehow up until now I  quietly avoided commenting on a request for 'color'.  My oldest gave up caring years ago, when I calmly explained to him that is what driving around looking at other people's lights was for.  I had him convinced that colored lights were not available to the general public.  By the time he caught on to the truth, he was a typical male that just didn't care.  His younger brother has turned out to be a force to be reckoned with.  Every trip to Target, Meijer, or the pet store reinforces this idea that colored lights are available to all.  Recently on a family shopping trip, I purchased him his very own 50 light strand thinking that I had made my nod to tacky and could tastefully move forward with my colorless holiday plans.  These lights are now up in his room, awaiting the multitude of strands that he plans on joining with them to 'light' everything up.  Both inside and outside the house.  He has this strangely powerful way of making me feel as if my desire for taste is destroying his childhood, the guilt is just too much.  I may or may not give in to his grand ideas of 'decorating'.  But for the first time in my life, I am tempted.   Tempted to go against my most important rule of decorating, which is simply if nature doesn't provide it neither should I.  Stars and the flicker of a candle are 'white', not blue,pink, or green!  It is just wrong.  Wrong! 

Comment of the Day

Every other month on Sundays I teach a children's class at my church.  The things these kids say are so much more amusing than anything I could come up with.  So, each Sunday I teach I thought it would be fun to post my favorite comment of the day. 

Today, I was explaining to the kids that this particular man I was going to discuss had two wives.  I paused just a second to see how this would sink in.  Most of their eyes got real big, you could almost hear the hamster wheels turning in their little brains.  Suddenly one precocious 5 year old raised his hand as high and straight as he could, and when I nodded in his direction, he exlcaimed "I have two grandmothers!"  Of course, he added a nice visual for all of us by holding up two fingers.  Others nodded and mumbled agreeing that they too had more than one grandmother.  I replied something to the effect of that being almost the same thing and moved on with the lesson.

A Book and Bed

Each  night as the sun goes down, I always have the same thought.  "I can't wait until I can get into bed and read my book."  Even if the book I am reading is less than sub par, I still anxiously anticipate slipping under the covers and leaving this world for a while.  Doesn't this sound wonderful.  It does to me as well, which is why I feel the need to imagine it daily.  However, only a few times in the last 11 years has this actually played out as flawlessly as imagined.  Usually, my name is screamed out with a question mark behind it at least 15 times each night.  For some reason this 'question mark' thing at the end requires that I solve some problem.  This could be anything from a missing pair of socks to a life threatening injury.  As the years went by, I began to develop little ploys to fight the 'question mark'.  First, I began  placing the cotton balls I normally reserved for bedtime with my sinus challenged husband in my ears at dark (or in summer after dinner).  This worked for a while until they started poking me with their fingers and speaking loudly and slowly once I made eye contact.  So, eventually I moved to a more advance strategy. Each night I would eat my dinner as quickly and quietly as possible, quickly clean the kitchen and run upstairs while they were all still arguing over who could burp the loudest. Once safely upstairs I would get into my pajamas, place the cotton balls in my ears, turn on the sound machine, take NyQuil, and pretend I was sound asleep.  This has worked fairly well, except that I rarely wake from my NyQuil induced sleep until morning.  Not every plan can be flawless or even work.  But, what I have learned is having a dream and a plan are important even if that is all they ever become.

I Really Have No Idea What I am Doing

I have many thoughts and words running through my mind each day.  I have long since been drawn to the idea of placing them out there into the universe.  Why just this morning I was thinking to myself, "I am glad my life isn't like Patsy Cline's, what with her cheating husband and all."  this was soon followed by, "He cheated on her, didn't he?".  Now, why do I feel the need to place such information out into the world?  Quite simply, I am afraid that if I spend anymore time 'alone' with these thoughts, I may succumb to the genetic gift of insanity passed down to me by my generous relatives.  So while I promise to hold nothing back and be purely honest, no matter the cost, I can't promise that this will be a 'fancy' blog.  One full of menus and links.  Because honestly, I have no earthly idea how to do any of that nor do I want to know how.  One day in the far future, when Dave Ramsey has slipped on some ice on his porch and died of a freak head injury, my husband may allow my to hire a professional to manage an amazing site with gidgets and gadgets, but until then you must be satisfied with my musings and an occasional picture used for illustrative purposes.

In the spirit of the honesty I just mentioned above, let me say that I am not in one of my better seasons of life.  My sister and I like to refer to this season as "November Sweatshirt Season"  It seems every year at this time I decided that little details like matching stylish mom clothes and washed flat ironed hair are just too much energy to attempt on a daily basis.  And, make-up is just a tiresome thought that needs to be banished.  This lack of grooming soon turns into a bit of depression.  I am not proud of this statement, but it is the truth and I have vowed to be honest.  On the flip side this will provide all my readers with some quite witty bitter remarks about, well everything.  As I mentioned above, this is a season and one that doesn't usually make it past Thanksgiving, after all one could hardly come to the 'holiday' table dressed like a mismatched bohemian who shops the Target sportswear clearance rack.

So, while I am a bit ashamed at what I currently have to offer my readers, I am helpless to change things, at least until Thanksgiving.

This blog will be full of errors some technical, but most will be social ones. If for some reason you choose to take offense with my ramblings please keep it to yourself and if we live in the same town or cross each others path, I ask that you don't confront me since there is a good chance I may cry. I don't handle criticism or rejection very well. That being said, most of the time I will make little to no sense, but on occasion I will be brilliant. Feel free to stick around to witness those moments.