Category Archives: motherhood

Anxiety.

Standard
Anxiety.

Do I already have a blog titled this?

I feel like I may…

Or maybe it is because it is a running theme in my life.  Regardless, I am riddled with it this morning.

Anxiety.

I am packing up for five days to go on trip with my husband…alone…without our five kids.

Venting quickly through my blog before my mad dash to get the kiddies off to school, finish my lists, charts, and graphs laid out for my mother and sister and the kids.

wpid-20150515_062303.jpg

Crossing off every little thing on my lists, and maybe do it again.

Then I stop and wonder how jet-setters like celebrities fly…

Constantly?!

Leaving their families and children behind to bop around the globe daily, like I do around town to the grocery store and dropping kids off at practice or games in my suburban…

I am in awe…I would need large doses of my chill pills on a daily basis to make it anywhere out of state.

I love to travel.

Yet hate flying.

I had no fear as a teenager about traveling. I flew to Austria ALONE when I was seventeen…not even a travel buddy or group tour…I did it. No anxiety. No fear. No nothing.

But for some reason, that thought of that girl I was back then now gives me anxiety as well.

I am a wreck…flying south for five days for some much needed rest and relaxation (and apparently in need of some mental diffusing) but also have a work event to distract me…I do need to go…

I probably have a large ulcer with all this anxiety.

I am a worry wart. I hate this about me, because I truly do know how to have fun.

I will let it go when I get home safely next week and kiss my babies and everyone is happy, healthy and safe…

Don’t know if my husband would appreciate my last comment…I need to let it go…now for him…for us…for me.

We have so much going on right now on the home front, I feel guilt leaving, and anxious to get back…

But all parties agree (I may be seeing their point as I write this), that we need this getaway…badly.  Life has been full lately…lots of good stuff, and then some pretty bad stuff as well…

But there is nothing I can do to make all of it go away.

Except maybe cry…get it out…finish packing…and let it go…

This is dedicated to the army of family we have recruited to help us take this trip…and to those who would help if they could…

Cartwheels.

Standard
Cartwheels.

My eight year old daughter loves to do cartwheels.

I remember loving to do them as well when I was young. We spent countless hours outside riding bikes, making mud pies, doing cartwheels.

My little girl has finally mastered the cartwheel. After years of trying, and falling on her bottom, she can do it with ease…not always gracefully, but with confidence.

On Mother’s Day, I decided to show off to my little girl…and attempt a cartwheel…I have not stood in position to do this in probably thirty years…I was excited…adrenaline pumping!

I did it!

And then did it again!

With my new found healthy outlook, I thought it was something I could do again…or not.

I pulled something in the back of my leg and I am still feeling it today.

I posted something on Facebook about my silly attempt and found words of encouragement…”If a 40 something mom can still do a cartwheel- flip away!!”…  if a woman my age can still do a cartwheel, then that is an accomplishment!

Me being a pessimist, didn’t see it that way…

But things change. I was very wrong. If I can do a cartwheel with my own two legs…If I can be outside in the sunshine and running around with my kids on a beautiful Mother’s Day…If I can break bread with my loved ones and not worry about what I am eating…If I can take the time to sit down and write about trivial things…then I am blessed.

I am lucky to be a Mother…I am fortunate to have found good health again… I am blessed to be able to do a cartwheel.

Many little things and a few BIG things brought me to this moment of clarity…

I take too much for granted.

Even if for just a moment, I can stop and appreciate these little gifts, then it was worth the pulled muscle or indigestion or being frazzled at juggling all the day’s events…

I actually DID a cartwheel again.

Thank you, Marley.

marley

Coffee.

Standard
Coffee.

Sitting here attempting to enjoy my millionth cup of coffee (since age fourteen), in one of my favorite cheesy mugs… I love collecting mugs now for some strange reason. They remind me of things I guess.  We have a nice set of matching mugs, but I have taken to mugs with pictures on them from our travels, or favorite campground. This is truly the highlight of my morning.

That first sip

God forbid I put too much creamer in it. But it is always fixable.

I never ever get to finish an entire cup of coffee. So these first few sips are like liquid gold to me. Even in the summer when I am broiling.

I am not a Starbucks fan, unless we are on the road ( and sick of having watered down coffee at any given random hotel other than a Marriott) and we are in need of a good strong cup of coffee… I have a special blend at home, to avoid the jitters…and Starbucks always gives me the jitters. So I now stick with decaf when hitting up the rest stop long lines at Starbucks.

Anyway, my husband prefers coffee at home…with me. And I feel the same. It is our ritual in the morning before we do battle with breakfast/lunch, combing out hair, tying shoes, and getting the world in order (at least in our house) by 8 a.m.

My hubby manages to down his coffee each and every day…I am envious of this. Maybe because my hands are busy slopping butter on toast or making sandwiches…but he is a true “enjoy every moment as it happens” kinda guy.

I am not.

I am that frazzled mother who may flip out on occasion in the morning…or any given moment. I feel the chaos running through my veins…if I sneak a sip of my coffee…ahhhh...all is right again in my whacky world.

I have mastered a way to eventually enjoy my coffee…it is now my treat…but this treat also has to sit and wait for me to slow down and drink it.

Iced coffee.

I take that cold sad little cup of coffee that has sat there since six a.m. ( with a few shots to warm it up) and add ICE and a little sweetness!! Voila!  Am I genius or what?!

Not really, but it makes me feel like I didn’t lose this sacred part of my day altogether.

I used to drink tea as well…not a huge tea fan but can tolerate it if I need be (generally when under weather).

When I ask someone if they would like a cup of coffee, and they say no thanks they drink tea, well something triggers in me. It is kind of like a jolt actually. I take immediate offense.

Tea-vs-Coffee

I am sad for them in some weird way…”oh wow, I am so sorry you have never acquired a love for coffee as much as I have” is what I would like to say to them. I feel like the bond between us has just been frayed…and some of these tea lovers are the closest people to me…I think how nice it would have been to sit on the sofa with a warm cup of freshly brewed joe, and have a nice chat (not that this ever really happens in real life…or at least not in mine) holding our mugs of warmth and goodness.

I guess we could still do this, but I may find myself staring at their mug with slight irritation the whole time…these dear people I love who drink tea do also cradle their tea mugs like I try to do with mine (before it gets to room temp).

There is really no point to this blog today, other than my odd obsession with coffee loving and tea bashing…sounds like I am being judgmental.

Maybe I will stop now before I enrage my loved ones anymore than I already have, and go make an iced coffee…

Iced-Coffee-11

It’s about that time now…

Seeing The Light.

Standard
Seeing The Light.

After a tough couple of weeks with a ton up’s and down’s, I needed to see the light.

I did it again. I have been told not to. Over and over again, yet I continue I break the rules.

It is so bad for me, but I had to.

The darkness was creeping in, making me crazy.

I couldn’t bare it anymore, and so I just ignored all good judgment…and decided to find the light again.

My mother helped me…she is my accomplice of sorts.

She knew I shouldn’t either, but said I was in serious need of seeing the light…I never listened to mother…until today.

I opened up a can of worms by doing it…I thought wow I am going to pay the price…I usually literally do pay the price, but in the event of trying to save myself some time and money, I opened up that can…or should I say box.

I boxed it. Yep. Good old boxed hair color.

hair

I did it a few months ago, after years of going to a very trusted salon, but ran out of time before my cousin’s wedding…I was not a happy girl. It was awful and I swore every penny I ever spent at the salon was worth it, to not have to make such a terrible mistake again.

And yet again…I let life take over with one thing after another (all very valid reasons as some of my loyal readers will attest to), and bought another…I needed to see the light…badly.

Man oh man, do those roots show…fast.

They bring with them, my dark mood…I do not like being a brunette…or showing that my hair is getting a little gray here and there…I know I should just let it be free to be what it wants, but I just love being blonde…the lightness brightens my mood…

my day.

Because of how moody I felt when I woke up this morning-even on this beautiful sunny day, after dreading another day of darkness taking over- I said no way.

Nope, not doing this for one more day.

Did I save myself some time? Heck no…did I save some money? Heck yeah..

Did it turn out okay after the last fiasco? Thank goodness…yes!

And now my slightly superficial self will take my glowing blonde locks back out into the world without shame, and  go sit out in the sun on this beautiful Spring day, and enjoy yet another day with the light all around me…

When I’m 57…

Standard

My baby boy will eighteen.  My oldest will be going on thirty-three.

My oldest randomly text-ed me this unnerving question the other day, as she lay poolside in warm and sunny Florida on Spring Break…while I was here on  the home front, caring for the little ones and managing the house.

“Have you ever thought how old your gonna be when Chance JUST graduates high school?? Not even college yet!”198684_4766656609542_1856966002_n

I gasped when I first read it…

What on Earth was my beautiful, eighteen year old daughter thinking by asking me this question???

I shared the question on Facebook, only because it was so insane at that moment, I needed some motherly backup…reassuring me that yes indeed my kid was rude and inconsiderate.

How are we to send her off to college in a few months and let her live in the city on her own, when she doesn’t even know one of the basic skills of life...think before you speak…or text.

Later that night, I laughed about it.

Not because I thought it was funny, but because I overreacted.

My daughter was starting to ponder life…the big bad world that lies before her. She was genuinely concerned at how old I may be when my youngest is her current age…maybe because she thought I may be crippled or too fragile by then to help him through his senior prom and graduation.

And help pack up his things and ship him off to college fifteen years from now…

Or maybe even whether I may be alive…maybe she hasn’t yet grasped different stages in life and aging, not realizing that 57 is still pretty young in our world.

When she returns from her mini Spring Break in Florida with her Grandparents, I may have to pull her aside and ask her what provoked such a thought.

Until then, I will take this Forty-something old body that is a little sore at the moment, but healing and getting healthier everyday (all due to my new way of eating and lifestyle so I live to be a hundred), and continue folding mountains of laundry, sort through the explosion of summer clothes that my teenage girls dug through for their last-minute getaway, and wait for my husband to come home from yet another trip to give me a “mommy time-out”…

I am told I will miss these crazy days someday, when all the kiddos have moved on to college/jobs/starting their own lives…

I probably will after my 57 year old body locks the front door, takes my bra off through my sleeve, throws it on the ceiling fan, cracks open a chilled bottle of wine and blasts some Duran Duran like the free spirit I once was…

dd1

a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far away…

Wacky Women.

Standard

ww2  I am not sure I can stomach one more story on this disturbing topic….Wacky Women.

     And People Magazine on my Facebook news feed seems to find every single wacko in this country.

     Either People is obsessed with making us women look like we are out of control, deranged, psychopaths… or it really and truly is becoming a tragic state of affairs in our country.

     Are hormones the culprit? Combined with stress/single-parenting/abusive family history?

     Torturing their children. Murdering them. Hiding them in a freezer while you still live in that house with two other children. Stabbing your spouse       over salsa??????

WHY?

These are just a few of the nauseating and insane examples of my constant updates from People (which I am about to unfollow due to lack of mindless celebrity gossip and enough violent and heartbreaking stories to create years of Lifetime movies) and even local news in our quiet little beach town…“used a large meat cleaver to threaten a male acquaintance”.  Why does one need to own a meat cleaver in the first place?

All joking aside…what IS going on in this world? T.M.I.?

Social media overload when there is nothing else to talk about? Or are women really and truly going mad?

My healthy side would love to blame gluten and G.M.O.’s.

And my p.m.s.’ing self would love to blame hormonal imbalances.

I fear menopause may make me crazy. I skip over that show Snapped whenever it is on, afraid I may be like one of those crazy mommas some day. When I have the rare opportunity to have complete control of the remote, I go straight for the happy-go-lucky channels…DIY…cooking…home decorating…with the occasional splurge of Real Housewife drama to make me feel like a grownup.  But then I wonder how these crazy fame/money-hungry women found rich men insane enough to marry their sorry diva butts to show off on national t.v.  And most importantly, why  am I putting more money in their lazy/sorry pockets by watching them whine and complain behind each other’s backs , making asses of themselves in public, all due to large doses of wine since breakfast.

I added People to my long lists of “likes” way back when Facebook was just getting started with poking and snowball fights. Up until recently, the articles were what was to be expected. How awesome Kim Kardashian’s rear end looked in black leggings for the millionth time or what celebrity Mom left the hospital in her size 2 skinny jeans after delivering a baby…all due to breastfeeding of course.

These wacky women posts have replaced my idiotic celebrity gossip with horror that keeps me up at night.

Where are these women hiding? 

 I hope I never tick one of them off at the playground.

It is definitely not just women, regardless of what People magazine says…it is a wacky world.

I will take the good with the bad yet again as I did when I was a kid (always watch the scary movie first, then the comedy).

I will read the bad news first about us wacky women in our wacky world when I pick up a copy of People (no more newsfeed on Facebook for me) at the Doctor’s office, then check in with Celebrity News on who Leonardo DiCaprio is dating this week.

Pinning Things And P.M.S.

Standard
Pinning Things And P.M.S.

Warning: This blog is written by my alter ego, who shows up

once a month for an unwanted visit…sometimes staying a little longer than we want her too.

pms4

She is rude, annoying, and causes upheaval in my household every time she visits.

I promise to not let her get a hold of my blog again in the future.

I never knew Pinterest could be so therapeutic.

I just sat in silence for ten minutes pinning the heck out of stuff on Pinterest in search for a recipe to fulfill a craving  that my alter ego is in search of, instead I wound up looking into a cure for why I am so cranky today.

I honestly do know why I am cranky right now…

AND why my two teenage daughters are as well…

“We’re All In This Together”

 

(insert sarcasm and catchy teen movie music)

 

For years it was about three weeks of hell-taking turns p.m.s.’ing in this house. One of us down for the count, then another…and another.

Tip-toeing around each other, trying to be supportive yet cursing each other out under our breath.

And then we started that beautiful, yet wicked balance of hormonal harmony… How exciting for my husband and friends and family…be done with it all around the same time, and then our true sweet selves come home as the alter egos pack their bags and leave.

When I am not p.m.s.’ing, I truly do sympathize with my husband and the other males in our lives for all that we put them through on our hormonal roller coaster rides.

I do.

Not today…but maybe in a week or two I will care again. Because right now, I swear at some points in the day, I truly think there is Male P.M.S.

 In actuality, this is obviously just them reacting to our charming alter ego.

So back to the grand world of pinning stuff…there are dozens, if not hundreds of remedies, articles, quotes, and images all relating to the terrible, not so nice world of P.M.S.

The quotes mock us…but made me laugh…for the first time all day.

The images tell us what we should eat…avoiding all cravings…

Not gonna happen. 

I will just head back over to the page of all things gooey and chocolate.

The articles… after reading one or two remedies/cures/explanations, my oh-so-charming self started saying “blah, blah, blah…I get it” (not very nice of me, but it is sadly how it goes).

I despise this time of the month.

But fear what the next chapter of middle-aged hormonal imbalance will bring…so I guess I will tolerate this chapter a little longer, and try to be on my best behavior.

I will take my vitamins. I will avoid all things sweet. I will not drink alcohol. I will smile and persevere… 

All lies.

pms3

 

At least I am being honest.

 I will admit the card quotes on Pinterest are truly making me smile…

Bonus for day one of Alter Ego vs. The Real Me.

 I will try my best to be good…in a bad sort of way.

Blogs.

Image
Blogs.

I was just checking in to see what is up on my stats (for the fiftieth time today) and what might be freshly pressed.

Which had me thinking what this blogging business is all about.

download (1)

Is it just merely editorials for writers that don’t get that big job at a newspaper or magazine they really wanted to write for,  a new type of career path for writers, or for moms like me who have a lot to say about something and sometimes nothing at all, or even those b.s.’ers that claim you can make thousands a month writing a blog? STILL waiting for that big fat check to arrive…

Are they open journals about feelings and life, or heartache and happiness?

As I scroll through, the titles catch my eye sometimes, as well as the featured image.

images (1)

But still cannot understand how this blogging business got so popular…

I remember back in the day of Myspace, they added a new section on profiles to add a blog…say what?

I had to ask my husband  what this “blogging” was all about… but he was also clueless, and so I just wound up ignoring it. I’m sure I had plenty to say back then, and would blog like a mad woman if I had known what to do with a blog.

So as I see blogs about blogging or religion…or life as we moms or humans see it, I am reminded that it is a current modern trend that I must simply embrace as an outlet for venting of my life’s mundane and not-so mundane moments.

I would like to think that I am a blogger now (one of millions)…whatever that may mean in the big scheme of things…I love it.

images

Chance.

Standard

We have three beautiful, smart, amazing girls…

                                                            chance2

And now a son.

He will be turning three tomorrow.

And I am not sure I like that.

Yes he drives me mad, and is the ultimate mess maker. He screams and yells. And even hits sometimes.

But he is my son.

I am wildly astounded that I have a son now.

We had just the three girls for so long and thought we were done.

The factory was closed.

But he is here now, completing our family circle. He, like our daughters, commands attention from all those around him when he is in a room.

He is funny and and tough and loud…and yet can be so sweet and lovable.

chance3

I will never forget the moment I met him. His almost eleven pound body was so warm and the nurse leaned him in for a kiss…his sweet soft baby skin was so warm. 

I have never felt such an instant bond…and fear all at once.

I have bonds with my girls, don’t get me wrong.

But he is my last. He is my boy.

The moment we met will live with me forever as I watch him grow from chubby little fingers, into a young man with strong hands, who will honor and protect and provide for his family someday as his father does now for us.

I may cry in my pillow tonight as I relive that day three years ago when I delivered my last child.

Admittedly, I am not that mom that soaks up every minute of being the best mommy ever and relishing all the little moments I share with my children.

I try. But that is not real life.

My almost three-year-old is napping peacefully right now, so I am stealing this moment to soak it up…

I have three beautiful daughters…and a son.

Happy birthday, Chance.

chance-word-art1

Taking The Plunge.

Image
Taking The Plunge.

I always thought I knew something about this. Diving deep into it, realizing I literally had no clue what I was trying to do.

It is very similar to dating. It needs to be a perfect fit. It needs to be submerged totally into the situation to be able to commit. To make it work. Otherwise, it will suck you dry or overflow with emotion.

That was me and my hot date tonight…

With a plunger.

I swear I knew how to use one.

After living on my own for a few years and my hubby traveling sometimes more than being home, I assumed I used one on occasion.

Not the case after scouring countless websites and DIY videos. After running to Lowe’s with my two little ones to buy a snake just in case my final attempt at plunging failed yet again.

On top of my fears of not being able to fix not one but TWO clogged toilets, I began my usual ranting and raving and discovered that my kids MAY have been throwing kitty litter in the one toilet from the litter boxes…

Well, well, well…

Needless to say when I googled that topic, it was not a good outcome. And the young kind fella  in Lowe’s who led me to the snakes,  looked bug-eyed and pursed his lips…then reiterated what I had already read online…

VERY bad.

Very expensive…and may need to pull the toilet out.

womanplumber

 

 Not this mama.

I scanned the internet some more on the how-to’s of using a snake, put my Supermom cape on and used my ten-dollar snake till I conquered both toilets.

Messy. Gross. Disgusting.

Don’t think we should ever compare dating to the act of plunging a toilet…maybe some marriages or relationships and friendships after they run their course…but not dating.  They may seem similar, but I may be a tad on the grumpy side tonight after the events of my day (while the hubby is on yet another trip…not just for Utah anymore-see blog regarding Utah), so don’t take dating advice from me.

But if you are on a date and you are thinking this person may just suck the life out of you,  then run. Or call a plumber…he could just be what you were always waiting for!