Selfish.

I would like to be selfish.

I want to sleep in till seven…or eight. I want to sit in peace and quiet and sip my coffee.

I want to figure out where to begin my day…do I put on yoga pants and take a class, or go for a long walk?

I want to say no to the class, and get myself dolled up and go shopping and get my nails done if I so choose.

Or maybe take out my painting clothes, and go get dirty out back and be creative on a piece of furniture.

I want to be selfish.

I want to not worry about making lunches or what’s for dinner, or laundry that needs to be done and folded and put away.

I want to not worry about dusting or vacuuming or dirty bathrooms.

I want  to not worry who has what activity after school and how I will pick everyone up on time.

I want to not worry about college kids that need supplies packed up, rides back to campus, and more spending money.

I want to not worry about late night phone calls or texts from a homesick college student who misses us desperately.

I want to not wake up ten times during the night by little ones coming in to sleep in my bed, then kicking me through the night.

If only…

Well, I am allowed to be selfish…today.

I have been granted that wish today…

My Mother-in-law has come to my aid.

I have another week of 24/7 parenting until my husband returns home. I am told to go do whatever I want…all day. And yet I have no clue what to do with myself…and no desire to be that jerk I talk about above…my selfish lists are thoughts tucked away in my brain of all these little things that annoy me on a daily basis-that make me want to be this obnoxious uncaring person. They are just wishful thinking when I cannot deal for another second with countless lists of mundane tasks day in and day out.

 I know others have it way worse, but I am an overwhelmed mother of five sick kids with pneumonia-all healed or healing, with countless doctor visits, and charts of who gets what medicine/breathing treatments and how and when I can get everyone back to school and activities and healthy again…on top of the meals and laundry and dishes…I am officially overwhelmed.

So I am being selfish today for a little bit.

I will take these few hours to vent  on this blog, and go wander aimlessly around a store, and maybe even buy something for myself…but that’s about it.

I have definitely lost myself in life and all that goes with it. I crave knowledge and being creative again.

But I don’t really and truly want to be that selfish woman. I will never be that woman…other than the one who puts on her painting clothes and goes out back with paint and sander in hand. Or write a blog about everyday boring life events…that is me.  

My time will come someday soon to have all day to do whatever I want, and the kids won’t need me as much and there will be fewer messes to clean…so I will take these few hours today to be a little selfish, to reflect on my tough days to appreciate the good ones, and remember how precious these days are with my growing family, as overwhelming as they can be…

This is my life.

I will be selfish…just for today.

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Clean House.

I DO appreciate a clean house.

My house is rarely ever spic and span clean, but occasionally it is for about an hour.  Today is my cleaning day…not a beach day or errand day…but a much needed cleaning day.

Yes we load/unload the dishwasher daily. And fold mountains of clothes daily…even scrub the bathroom multiple times per week with seven people in one tiny house…but clean clean weekly?

Nope.

Haven’t done this kind of cleaning in months.

Dust has moved in almost permanently as well as cat hair on literally every piece of furniture and somehow lampshade.

Organizing? Forget it…

Almost every drawer and closet is filled to capacity with misplaced items shoved in wherever they will fit.

Clean houses don’t seem to go hand in hand with busy lives…we shove things away to make the small living spaces look tidy, as we run out the door for the tenth time in a day. I may even occasionally use a dirty dish towel to dust off a few table surfaces as I walk the towels up to the laundry basket. If I am lucky, I will hit all three tables I pass by on my way up the stairs, if not too distracted with the twenty pairs of shoes/books/papers/bags piled on each step on my way up the stairs.

In my distraction up to the laundry, I may even notice the clumps of ever-growing cat hairs on the stairs, and blow them down with my breath to the landing (so then they are more consolidated) or use my now very dusty dish towel to shoo them down below.

Entering the hall bathroom where all the laundry hides in the closet, I come across wet towels and clothing strewn across the floor, then see the closet oozing with more wet towels and clothes as if it vomited dirty clothes all over the floor.

I remind myself daily that all these chores can be done quickly if all seven of us pitched in one day a week (along with the bickering of who-did-what-and-when and that they collected the trash already this week or did the dishes)instead of me giving up a whole day on the weekend…then I remind myself of these weekends…

My clean house weekends…just me, and some of my music, cleaning and schlepping up and down the stairs for hours…it sounds like torture, but for some reason, in my weird motherly way…its almost like a much needed Mommy Timeout.

I crave these days...for dusting to be an actual completed task, not just one or two tables at a time…the laundry done and put away…at least for one day.

To sit back when I am all finished, with a cocktail in hand (trust me…by the time I am done, it will be five o’clock here too) and actually seeing order in a very lived-in chaotic world.

But in all honesty, I am starting to appreciate the messy days here as well, as two of the kids leave for college very soon…they will take some these messes with them, but also some of my heart.

My house will be a little less messy but also a lot more quiet.

I am excited for the future and watching our children grow into individuals, but I am already beginning to miss what I have today…

A very dusty/ messy/ loud home…

But also full of life and love.

About Blank.

I am not exactly sure what this means in the computer world, but I know it is very similar to how I am feeling this week.

Blank.

Not sure why I am feeling this way, possibly because there is SO much going on right now, that I have shut down.

I tried to shut it down yesterday. Needed a RESTART button. I felt like I had to force myself to be happy when I woke up yesterday.

I did try.

And then I crumbled. I cried.

And cried some more. I don’t think I have cried that much in a while.

Then I just felt numb…

Blank. Void. Empty.

I thought maybe I should try to blog it out…get it all out in verbal diarrhea. But in the blankness, I felt like I have been failing at blogging as well…so why bother.

Woe is me…

I wanted to kick myself in the shins and tell myself to buck up. But I couldn’t. I needed to get it out. I haven’t felt that out of control of my feelings in a while…I would try to go about my day, so I didn’t keep upsetting the little ones…and the big kids too. They were great and supportive but it brought them down too. It wasn’t fair.

But I had to. 

There truly is so much going on right now, that I think I had been holding it all back for so long, that it erupted like a volcano. Oozing tears and sobs all day long.

I am okay now.

I needed those tears to wash away all of the stress and denial that I had been avoiding…the reality.

Life has been changing in this house at warp speed…high school graduations, college plans for two teens, countless summer jobs and schedules, sickness, cancer, family struggles, a growing business…it might seem petty compared to other problems that people are facing, but it hit me hard…all of us. But I guess, me being the most emotional in the house, I sucked it all up for the team.

I cried a little a graduation on Monday night, but it really and truly didn’t hit me until yesterday.

How different our lives will be in a few short weeks…forever.

The biggest blow has been with my in-laws…I came to realize how much I took them for granted…babysitting our kids at the drop of a hat…showing up for any and all things family-related…stepping in with preparations for parties days before and making food and treats for all occasions…and just simply always loving us unconditionally.

I have always known they love us and support us unconditionally, but not as much as until yesterday…maybe it is because I felt like I needed them right now…but they cannot be here. They just can’t. I wouldn’t dare ask them.

They have more important challenges right now, and a long road ahead…

My whining about all this despair and misery pales in comparison to what they are dealing with right now…shame on me.

But I had to.

I will not allow myself to feel guilty about this anymore…I had to find clarity and wash away all the confusion and muck in my brain.

I did it.

I woke up today feeling better…not great, but manageable. I am putting my best foot forward. I recharged my batteries on the beach today with my little ones, with the glorious sun blazing and a light ocean breeze keeping us cool…

I am not blank anymore…

I am blessed.

Tired.

I am whooped.

All the time.

I am pretty sure the only time I ever sit is to go to the bathroom or write a blog.

From 5:30-ish (depending on how many times I can hit snooze without causing a panic attack) in the morning, until I lay down with my little ones at 8:30 at night…I do not stop moving. I keep expecting to pass by a mirror and see a Cindy Crawford type body…

But it is still me…

Frazzled, droopy-eyed, flabby me.

That’s okay…I have slightly accepted middle age…minus my thinning hair, constant confusion, stress, and of course…exhaustion.

I do not ever remember being so tired before kids. I know I do not sleep well, but never have since I was little.

Even when I worked seven days a week at two jobs and then went out late to the bars with friends, I was not this tired.

I know I hear many people swear that a nice glass of wine or cocktail can help with a good night’s sleep…not working on this lady! Even two or three sometimes have zero effect on this mommy.

I pump myself full of vitamins and supplements daily, eat better than ever…

Except for my terrible addiction to pork roll.

Maybe I should just accept that the ten minute cat nap occasionally as I get my toddler to nap, or the twenty minutes of dozing off as I try to read a book to the little ones at bedtime, is all I really need at this point in my life.

I read once that Martha Stewart only sleeps like four hours a night…I could handle that. 

I could get ALL the laundry done AND folded, make lunches, dust, answer emails, write a blog more than once a week, prep meals…just no vacuuming…that wouldn’t be fair to a house full of peacefully sleeping kids and hubby.

Maybe even slowly build an empire based on early morning crafts/baking/organizing…

Or maybe not.

I don’t want to be up at four in the morning anymore than any other mom reading this…

I would love peace and quiet occasionally, and less clutter, AND sleep…

But I will settle for maybe five or six hours tonight since I just got the laundry all done AND put away, vacuumed (half the house), and cleaned up dinner ALL before bedtime…

I deserve that extra half hour of slumber tonight.

And hitting snooze a few times.

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.

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…

It’s about that time now…

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.

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…

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!”

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…

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

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.

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.

 

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.

Cheater.

I know what happens when I cheat. But I still do it. More and more. It is like a drug. I cannot control that impulse.

I hate cheaters.

I grew up hating cheaters. It was embedded in my core that cheaters are no good.

And yet, here I am…cheating.

It may not be as bad as what I was told growing up. I can fix it…I can repair the damage that is done.  But how long will that feeling last and when will the cheating not be enough? Will I give up on everything for the sake of cheating?

I know I have a good thing. I finally have stability and happiness. 

But that obviously meant nothing. I did it knowing that my imaginary Family Bible full of do’s and don’ts says “Thou Shall Not Cheat”…I am a sinner in the eyes of my family, and now that I am realizing it myself…I have sinned against myself most importantly.

I am not a Holy Roller…but I believe (as I may have stated many times before) that everything happens for a reason…even my cheating.

I am guessing that my realization and guilt of cheating more and more is becoming a problem for me…and it has to stop...now.

I am not making light of an actual cheater,(one who has a relationship with someone else while married or committed to another), and the hurt and pain that causes or how it can destroy an entire family in an instant…grew up in that world and take it very seriously.

I am talking about me...my cheating with food. The love of my life…because in that Family Bible there may have been a hefty section regarding food…eat it, smother it on your face, let it make you sick or fat or sad…do whatever you want with it…it’s o.k. 

Food is my cheat.

I have taken the last year of my life to find that peace within myself and to understand my conditional relationship with food and my health and why I let it control me, and done really well. I am not dieting anymore, I am living…better. I eat what I want. I follow a list of restrictions, which was overwhelming at first, but not because I want to lose weight (and I have lost over thirty pounds of which I am very proud of but not focusing on too much), but because I want to learn how to live healthier and happier… not to just be skinny again for a few months, only to slowly add the weight and misery back on again.

And I was.

I made it through the holidays…usually my worst time with cakes and candy and heavy meals.

Soooo, I say to myself today, why have I cheated? I don’t know…I just wanted a cookie…albeit a gluten free one, but still a cookie. Or a few french fries…or a mixed drink…whatever it has been, I have paid the price afterward.

Cheating does not sit well with me, literally. 

I follow a strict and fulfilling diet for several health reasons. I eat as clean as I can and have stuck to it for the most part, for almost six months now.

When I have unknowingly or knowingly cheated, I feel awful. Maybe similar to the guilt one may feel after really cheating, but more a physical feeling versus emotional.

But this is where the emotional part is catching up to me…I don’t want to cheat. I love this new way of life…so why am I doing it? Boredom? Being stuck in the house with kids and treats on yet another snow day? I don’t know…but it has to stop.

I have big plans for when this cold miserable weather takes a vacation and lets Spring come back to work in its place…

The pain is not worth it.

                                                                     The guilt isn’t either.

My brain and my stomach and my heart are fighting each other…and now I am going to be my own mediator and tell them to stop…make peace with one another.

What has happened in the past, stays in the past.  I cannot take back the harm I have done but I need to move forward, just breathe and let it go…

Wish it were that simple for real cheaters…

The Rush.

Good Lord. Can life be any crazier?

The rush. 

The rush to wake up early after very little sleep and get the day started.

The rush to make and eat and clean up breakfast.

Get everyone cleaned, dressed and ready to rush out the door.

Check the clock.

Not late yet, but pushing our luck.

God help us if we have a last-minute diaper change or run to the potty.

Rushing to finish task number one on our “day off”.

Rushing to prep yet another meal. Eat. Clean it up…again.

Are we having fun yet?

Rush to throw more laundry in after lunch and contemplate a quick dinner for later.

Find hubby’s suitcase for trip number three this month.

Have daughter’s car towed for the second time in week before hubby leaves.

Rush to squeeze in five minutes of googling  a new car for daughter.

Time to rush out the door again.

This will not stop till I rush to get little ones bathed and in pj’s and into bed, in hopes that my eyes will stay open long enough to read a few pages of my new book, or write another blog, or watch some mindless show on t.v.

I am pretty sure I may have written about a day just like this one, several times before. So if there is one thing you have learned about me, that there is a small bit of consistency in my life.

I am rushing now to finish this before the troops literally come marching in to find me huddled at the computer venting about my day so far…

Maybe I should start running… I am getting faster with all this rushing around and typing like a whiz…