Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Cinderella

When I was pregnant with N (and aware she was a girl), I spent a lot of time thinking obsessing over the ghastly amounts of pink things that were going to start descending upon my home. I worried that frills and pink and dolls and princesses were going to be shoved down her throat everywhere we turned. I was worried that from Day 1 she was going to believe that Prince Charming was real (the HORROR!) and that he was going to ride in on a white horse and save her from her terrible parents who wish her to be well-rounded and independent. I glared at my poor mother anytime she appeared on the doorstep with yet another bag of clothes, assuming that everything in it would say "Cute as a Button", or "Princess in Training" (they didn't, by the way, none of them did, my mother has impeccable taste, I was just a psycho pregnant lady).


I told anyone who would listen that I was a tomboy, that I only had male friends until I was 7 (true), and that I had NO IDEA how to stomach any of those things, and to fend off anyone who dare try and make her watch Sleeping Beauty. It was exhausting thinking of the million scenarios where I would have to tell her that she doesn't need to wear pink/be a princess/let a man take care of her/kiss frogs/or play with Barbie.


What is my point? It's this:



We met Cinderella. And it was fun. N walked right up to her, her eyes so big, and gave her a huge hug. Then stood there, staring. She was amazed. We also rode in a horse drawn carriage, and visited her castle. Then we danced down the hill to continue our amusement park day. Meeting Cinderella was, by far, the highlight of her very long and exciting day. And I didn't have a stroke. I didn't tell her she's not real. And I didn't tell her that the pumpkin was plastic, and that her Fairy Godmother's sparkly wand looked like it was bought at the Dollar Store. I danced with her, and took pictures like someones depraved Stage Mom, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

Just like when I picked her up from daycare the other day and she was beside herself with excitement because she climbed the (very small) rock wall ALL BY HERSELF. And then showed me. Again and again. Just like when she stood in line for the log flume and laughed at her father for being nervous. Just like when she announced in the car the other day that she NEEDS a red truck for her birthday, and not one you ride on, one she can push around herself and make truck noises for. Just like when we sat on the floor and taught her how to play her very first card came, and she got it. Just like when she talks circles around her little friends. Just like when she insisted on the blue Cars pull-ups and not the Princess ones. And just like every single day when she shows me a little bit more of who she is and who she is going to be.

She is going to be well-rounded, and independent. And if she meets Prince Charming and he sweeps her off her feet, I will keep my gagging noises to a minimum, as long as she gets through med school first.


And for the record, I was not all tomboy (I might exaggerate sometimes, and then add pregnancy hormones to that...good luck!). Yes, I had more male friends than female, I wore my brother's clothes, and I wanted to play hockey and be a goalie (guess who did that?), but I was also a ballerina for 12 years. I was a cheerleader in high school. I have vast amounts of embarrassing diary entries to look through and remind myself that I really did care what those silly 13 year old boys thought of me. But, I always wore my Doc Martens with my dresses, I loved it when people thought my hair looked like Eddie Veddar's, Rainbow Brite and Punky Brewster were always cooler than Barbie in my book, and my brother is still my hero.

So there.



Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Fail

I did not run the Beach to Beacon.

I didn't train. At all.

What I did do was: camp, weekended away with friends, vacationed with my family, went to and hosted BBQ's, watched Super Husband sing and play in multiple fantastic shows, hit the beach, watched my girl grow more confident in the water moment by moment, ate dinner and drank wine outside with amazing friends, went to amusement parks, celebrated a dear friend who is having her first baby, attended a wake and a funeral, worked, got N through yet another ear infection (WITH TUBES, ARGH!), stressed that Summer is passing me by at the speed of light and we still haven't gone on a picnic, challenged myself to cook/use ALL the swoon-worthy vegetables we get from our CSA, saw a movie, planned sleepovers with my oldest niece, and tried so very hard to soak up every ray of Summer sun.

And Summer isn't even over yet. Not that you can tell by the dreary sky outside and 55 degree nights and mornings of late. I have confidence we will see a little more of it before September hits.

So no, I didn't run the B2B. But did I fail? No, not really. Sure, I am mildly disappointed that I didn't achieve this particular goal THIS year, but what I did do was pretty outstanding. I made choices. I didn't work out as much as I would have liked, but sometimes (okay, pretty much all the time) rushing to happy hour for an hour to celebrate your BFF's birthday is more important, and more gratifying, than a 3mile run.

Life is a series of choices each day. From what shoes I put on to walk in the rain to work, to what my attitude is going to be about the rain. I chose to sign up for the race, and then chose to spend late Spring, and most of Summer, playing with my family and friends, and supporting the ones who needed it. I'd call that a success.



Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Lucky

One of my favorite blogs is Enjoying the Small Things. Kelle takes the most gorgeous photos and writes posts that speak directly to me as a mother, woman, wife, and friend. And it doesn't hurt that she has two of the most beautiful little girls I have ever seen. Her latest post (you can read it here) reminds me of an ongoing monologue I am having with myself (and any friends/husband who will listen).

The day we went in for our 20 week ultrasound (which also happened to be our 5 year wedding anniversary) was one of the scariest, happiest, most overwhelming days of my life. I always saw myself with a boy. Raising a son. I don't know why. Maybe because I was (am?) a Tomboy. Or maybe because my only friends were male until I was in elementary school. Or maybe it was because I remembered what I was like as a teenager. It doesn't matter, the point is that I thought for sure that ultrasound tech was going to tell me there was a little boy in there. She didn't.

EVERYTHING CHANGED. I wish I could say I was exaggerating. But it's true. Just like the day I said "yes" to my future husband as he knelt in front of me with the most beautiful ring I had ever seen, and the day we stood in front of the most important people in our lives and promised forever, and the (wine-soaked) night we decided we were ready to start a family....and then the day I did what I had been putting off for a week...taking the pregnancy test.

There is a 50/50 chance here. You get a boy or a girl. Everyone knows this going in (I think) and yet, when that woman said "Do you want to know the sex?" and we dumbly nodded our heads back at her, I really didn't expect to hear "IT'S A GIRL". I had flashes of (way too much) pink, dresses, pigtails, my Grandmother's eyes, attitude, drama, Mean Girls, and boys.

I am a girl. I know all these things to be true. I also know that I, somehow, by the grace of SOMETHING, even amongst the drama, boys, and raging hormones, had a solid head on my shoulders, weighed (most of) my decisions carefully, worried what my mother would think, and was a really good friend (I mean, maybe that's tooting my own horn, I guess my actual friends would have to weigh in, but I have had most of them from 5-25 years, so stats are on my side).

I did bad things. I said terrible, awful things during fights with my mother that I always regretted. I dated. I broke rules. I was grounded for the majority of my junior year in high school. I was so far from perfect.

What I never did was worry that boys didn't like me because I wasn't the right size, or that I didn't have the right hair, or that I didn't hang out with the right people. I liked myself. I felt confident in who I was. I was loud, I wore green cowboy boots for way too long, my legs were so skinny that someone asked me once if they had to have my tights specially made, I quit field hockey after 6 years to become a cheerleader (which was not that cool at the time), I didn't wear make-up, I liked reading everything that was assigned, I rarely did my homework, I worried about how other people felt about themselves, I sat with basketball players on the bus after a game because we liked to have thumb wars (and nothing else), and I wore my heart on my sleeve.

I am 32 years old, my mother is my best friend, and I seriously have NO IDEA how she did this for me. I hate to say "she" too because my father was a large part of my life until I was 16. They shaped me. They taught me. They loved me.

I have asked my mother HOW this was possible, what she set out to do, how she made sure I wouldn't have sex at 14, or side with the kids who were pointing and laughing because they could. I am seriously disappointed to say that she claims she also had no idea what she was doing. WTH are our parents for if they can't tell me EXACTLY how to tell my sweet, smart, caring, sassy, bossy toddler that all of that...everything she is...is exactly who she is supposed to be, and that she is more than good enough? 

My kid is bigger than life. How do I send her out into the world and make sure she knows that nobody should be able to tell her otherwise, and that she should also stand up and say so when someone else is being torn down? I'm not even saying that I always did that, but I am saying that I know by the end of the dreaded teenage years, that I had done my best with the hand (and hormones and developing brain) I was (and all teenagers are) dealt, and came out on the other side loud, wearing inappropriate shoes, still claiming to be a cheerleader, and backing those I love 100%.

I tell people I was lucky, but I know that's not true. I know it's because I have good parents, amazing friends, and an unwavering support system. I wake up everyday and wait for my instincts to kick in, wait for my big A-HA! moment, and then trudge forward, having blind faith that somewhere in here I have what it takes to give all of this to N. Having faith that someday, after battling her way through Junior High, High School, and beyond, that she will be able to say she did it with her self-esteem in tact, and a whole mess of crazy, fun, loving people behind her cheering her on.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

What's Real: Vacation Edition



I took a class my senior year in high school called Human Nature. It focused on various esoteric topics, usually based on one question posed to us by our teacher, and then opening it up for discussion amongst all the 17 and 18 year olds in the room. Those are some brave teachers who want to listen to teenagers with one foot out the door into the "real world" discuss how we know what is real and what is not! I adored my teacher and most of my classmates in that particular class, and sitting and being able to open up my big mouth and gab about what it means to be a human being, and what it means to understand one another....well, it was right up my alley!


I have been thinking about Mr. D and that class for the last few days as my week long vacation with Super Husband and N was coming to an end. It was really a fantastic week. We made sure to wring every drop of vacation out of each day. We visited my extended family 300 miles away, stayed on their enormous and beautiful potato farm, ate too much, told stories about my Grammie (N carries her name proudly in the middle), watched a lone beaver swim back and forth across the pond (building his dream house, no doubt, while my Uncle shakes his fist), played bocce, drank wine, laughed, and sat in silence under a sky that is 12 times bigger than ours at home. We also came home to a heat wave that chased us out of the house and to a friends camp almost 2 hours away for our remaining days before we resumed our regular schedule. We watched N grow braver each time she got in the lake with her friends, sitting down, laying down, kicking those legs, and eventually dunking her head. We played cribbage, grilled, made breakfast, Super Husband even got to sail.




It was all so....REAL. Yes, I know, so are my dishes, laundry, daycare costs, and paycheck. Those are all part of our life, but they aren't life. I think that we do a good job as a family trying to stay ahead of those feelings, and that slippery slope of being consumed by our daily tasks and our obligations, but being reminded in such an all-consuming way was incredibly refreshing, and so relaxing. So needed. So welcome.

I ended my vacation having dinner with one of my oldest and dearest friends. We sat outside on a patio, drinking white wine, eating sushi, and catching up. One of my favorite things about my time with B is that we catch up pretty quickly (kids, husbands, classes, jobs, vacations, siblings, etc) and our conversations inevitably end up wandering towards the big LIFE topics. The real ones. The ones that don't have answers, and that might not make any sense to anyone else. We also talk about wishing we could get together more, and always promise to make it happen (sometimes we do, sometimes we don't....the ebbs and flows) and also blather on about how much we love and appreciate one another and how we wish we said it more. And the scattered emails, text messages, and voicemails trying to find a time that works for both of us do not go unnoticed, they are enough for me until we hit the jackpot and are able to sit outside drinking wine, eating sushi, and talking about what it all means. That's real.

I think I should also mention that the lovely B was also in this Human Nature class with me our senior year. Mr. D would love to know the conversations continue.

I think my point here is that I learn more each day how to shape my own reality. I want to remember to soak it all up, to keep my vacation mentality (but not the vacation diet, I need to start running off the extra glasses of wine and the trips to Burger Boy), and keep showing N what's real, and what's important. 



I will be back soon to update on The List progress....or is it lack thereof? We will see! 

Friday, July 8, 2011

Footing

I am trying to find it. My footing. I have really big feet (a 10...the flip flops I have on are an 11...and I will never admit that again) so losing my ground, slipping around and fumbling to get these legs under me, is noticeable, and not at all pretty.

I have a hard time pointing these things out, finding the exact words, explaining where the scowling, frazzled-looks, snapping, quick tears, and so un-silly (and I'd like to think unlike me) moments/hours/days come from. I said not more than an hour ago that it had to do with feeling like I was losing some control, the balancing act is off balance, and that's partially true....but a bigger part of these creeper feelings comes from lusting after some spontaneity. It comes from not going after those little thoughts (that admittedly turn into big obsessive thoughts sometimes) that wander into my head during a work day that is making me want to wander out the door of my building.

Example: Wouldn't it be SO nice to pick up N from day care, meet Super Dad at home,pretend we are tourists, drive to one of many amazing lighthouses, order hot dogs and fries, and eat them wearing sweatshirts and watching the waves crash over the rocks?

SO nice. It wreaks of Summer. Summer on the east coast. Memories of my tourist grandparents, my sometimes spontaneous parents, my big brother, and my Big Wave dreams.

Reality: Pick up N from daycare, she is dirtier than any child has been EVER, she hasn't napped (and it should be noted that she also battled her 412th ear infection this week), Super Dad has battled a crazy week at work, has a surprise party to get to, and I have a stomach ache from eating a burrito bigger than my head earlier in the day. We try to go out and grab a bite to eat, the kid falls asleep the second the car starts, and then the parents snap at each other out of disappointment and frustration. 

Sitcom script?  

I am over-the-top blessed/lucky in my life. Man. It makes me tear up just thinking about how crazy-good I have everything. And we work hard at making all we want to happen, happen. We succeed more often than not (maybe more often than most?). But sometimes...all that scheduling, all that hard work, all that BALANCE....is a gigantic pain in my a s s. I think about it all. the. time. And then I think about riding off into the sunset with my disgustingly adorable family and WHAP. I remember my kid never naps, my lovely husband works 50+ hours a week, and I don't know how to say no to a burrito. Or a play date. Or a birthday party. Or an invite to a BBQ. Or, or, or.

I am a planner. I like to find balance (and control, yes). But I also like pretending I'm a tourist, throwing my big ideas at people, going out in my pajamas, and so many other silly, life-affirming, spontaneous things. Those are the things clawing at my lumpy throat, bogging down my over-worked mind, and causing me to shoot lasers out of my eyes when things don't go my dreamy way.

*SIGH*

I have a 2 and a half (plus a month or two) year old, a husband, a house, a dog, a cat, loads of friends who I adore, want to support, and cherish everyday, and the coolest family on the planet....and really big (sometimes size 11) feet. It's in there. My control of letting go of control? Maybe. But I'm in here, finding my way to the surface of schedules, and am ready to start telling the sched exactly where it can go. 

To the coast, on the rocks, with hot dogs and fries, and really big East Coast waves. 

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Summer Love

New Life.

Rainy Day Entertainment.

Dancing with Daddy.

CSA bounty.

Friends.

Rainbow hunting.

Beach Bums.


There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.  ~Celia Thaxter

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Where to Start

I have spent so much time wondering how to get my fingers typing and energy flowing back into this space that I haven't actually TRIED to get my fingers typing and energy flowing back into this space.


It's already easier than I expected.


I have been up to nothing and so much, and in the same thread have felt I have nothing and too much that I want to write about. I started to feel uninspired (or at least was telling myself I was feeling uninspired, but maybe I was just lazy) but all the while was creating posts in my head.


This is a start. I will be back. SOON.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Reflection

I started a post yesterday about the world's biggest headline...you would have to live under a rock to have not heard that the most sought after criminal/terrorist/evil mastermind/murderer in the world was found and killed.

I started it and deleted it, started it again, and deleted it again. I was thinking a lot about what it meant. Nothing. Everything. Something in between. I was thinking about violence and killing. I was thinking about how it felt irresponsible (to me) to celebrate. I was thinking about my girl, and how someday these things will need to be explained to her. I was thinking about all those people and all those families whose lives were changed forever on that day in September that we will never, ever forget. I was thinking about war, and all those brave men and women and their brave families who watch them pack and ship off to a land unknown to fight for....so many things....what exactly, I'm not sure anymore. 

Mostly I was thinking about the days leading up to 9.11 and the days following. My brother got married 4 days later and leading up to that Tuesday was so much celebration. Just 3 days before I was sitting on a beach with a fellow bridesmaid talking about our older brothers. Mine getting married in a week, hers starting a fabulous new job in the WTC in NYC. We were so proud...two little sisters talking about their superhero older brothers.

I could say so much about all of that, the days leading up, the days following, how brave our friend was for still standing up with everyone in that wedding, how it changed so many things. Really though, there aren't any words that can package all that up. I have NO idea how our friend and her family felt in those days afterwards, how they have felt in the almost 10 years since then, or how yesterday made them feel. I do know that my heart is heavy for everyone who experienced such huge and personal losses that day, and all the days since then. Nothing will ever fill the holes they feel in their lives.

All I know for sure is that my friend and her huge, unthinkable loss have taught me to cherish every second I have with the people I love, that life changes in an instant, that you can move forward with love, support, and a brave heart, and that older brothers really are superheroes and nothing can ever change that.

I am thinking of ,and praying for, the thousands of people who have endured such huge losses. I hope they can find some kind of peace amongst the latest chaos and headlines.

xoxo

Monday, April 25, 2011

My oh my...

Easter 2010



Easter 2011




"If we take care of the moments, the years will take care of themselves." - Marie Edgeworth

Friday, April 22, 2011

Momness

I have had a short absence here because I was on a mini-vaca of sorts. I had a few days off work because N's daycare was closed for vacation week and I also had friends fly in to visit us from CO. This wasn't just any friend either. My oldest and bestest girlfriend came with her 15 month old son to stay with us for a few days. It was so good to spend time together and to see N and E interact and get to know one another.

Let me tell you though, our visits are NOT what they used to be. Kids, staying in at night, entertaining people other than ourselves all day long, fighting to get a word in with each other while the ankle biters make various demands for our attention; conversations about potty training, having more of these rugrats, and what life used to be. I am not complaining. I wouldn't change it for anything. Especially since she and I have been friends since the 1st grade and we have been through EVERY stage of life together, this is just our natural progression. Some things never change though, like how many bottles of wine we drank at the kitchen table after the little people were in bed, or how much we love to shop (and even forced N and E to come with us), how much we love to eat, and how much she means to me. There is nothing sweeter and more grounding than an old friend who knows everything about you...even though she uses the word "old" much too liberally when making reference to me. Especially since she is 3 days older than me. Pfft! 

I think it's pretty clear that I was reminded more than once this week that I am a Mom. I know that might sound silly (or delusional), but sometimes I have these moments where it is much more obvious to me that I am someones Mother. Yes, I have a little girl. I have been parenting her for 2 and a half years now (and if we count the 41 weeks I was carrying her around on the inside, then it's over 3 years) and I KNOW I am a mother. I just think when most of us hear that word we picture our own mothers. Or our friends mothers. Or (*gasp*) our grandmothers. It is hard for me to relate these images to myself. And not just because I have a fear of waking up one day and wanting to put on high-waisted jeans, a sweatshirt, and then go buy a mini-van.

I think it's because I always assumed these people, these oldER women, knew what the F they were doing. I assumed their only interest was me, and that they were put on this planet to irritate me, set ground rules, comfort me when I was hurt and heartbroken, and love me more than anyone. Believe me, my mother did ALL these things (and much, much more) but I also know now that my mother is a great many things, and my Mom is only one of them.

It's safe to say that one of my biggest fears before having N was that I would be put into some sort of dreaded box. A Mom Box. I have never been one for any kind of box, and watching so many people around me have children and then seemingly drop off the face of the planet was just plain scary. It was also unnerving for me to hear people say how important other "Mom Friends" were going to be...some people even implied these friends were the only ones you may end up having. Also knowing how all-consuming children (especially newborns) can be made me nervous. Super Husband and I went into this parenting game knowing we wanted to be the best parents we can be, but also knowing that we needed to be strong in our convictions that these "rules" just plain don't apply to us. And frankly, they shouldn't apply to anyone.

Like I have said before, this is something I am very proud that we have accomplished (so far). We work hard at feeding our interests outside of our family, putting our marriage on the top of the list, and being N's Mom and Dad. I think what I have realized recently is that because of my box fears (and bad jeans fears) is that I might dumb down what it is means to embrace my inner Mom. I brag about my kid, I love her more than I thought I could love anyone, I make decisions for her, and about her, each day. I set boundaries, I do infinite loads of laundry, and I comfort her when she is sick and heartbroken. It has nothing to do with how much I embrace the act of parenthood and her irreplaceable spot in my life. It has to do with me embracing what has changed about me. I will never be a box person, I will always be a great many things, just like my mother...but I am totally A Mom.

So I am vowing to myself to never buy bad jeans, cut my hair too short, or wear sweatpants to dinner, but I will learn to embrace my Momness...as long as it means I can still talk too loud and drink wine at the kitchen table until 1 AM with ALL my friends, then I am all for it.   

Monday, April 11, 2011

Community Supported Agriculture (CSA)

I mentioned a couple posts ago that we had decided to purchase a farmshare/CSA for the Summer and Fall. We have officially sent our sign up information and deposit to Summit Spring Farms and are thrilled to be supporting them and reaping the benefits of what a CSA share has to offer. The thought of fresh, organic, and LOCAL fruits, veggies, and herbs for 20 weeks out of the year makes me swoon. I already have ideas and recipes floating around my head and can't wait for our first pick-up. They have so much to offer, and there are endless possibilities.

If you would like to learn more, check out Local Harvest  for more information about farms in your area. I strongly encourage supporting your local farmers and local agriculture. It's an amazing way to support your entire community and eat well.

I am looking forward to writing more about this experience as we get started (our first pick-up is expected to be in June) and sharing with you what we are learning and, the most important, what we are eating!

 

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Grumpy, meet Spring

Yes. That's me. Grumptastic.


It's just one of those days when lots of smallish things turn my Party-Pants into Stabby-Pants. Or, more like my Sunny-Wednesday-Pants into Oh-It's-Just-Another-Day-at-Work-with-People-Who-Don't-Know-How-to-Say-Thanks-and-We-Want-to-Get-Away-for-a-Weekend-but-are-Having-Trouble-Finding-a-Sitter-and-Matching-Schedules-Pants. That's kind of a long name for pants though. Stabby covers it.


So, no, nothing big, but enough to make me sulk and do some glaring and think about all the things I dislike about today, this week, tomorrow, last week, whatever. And really, I hate this kind of mood. It makes me grumpy to be grumpy, because I know how good I have it. I know that there are WAY worse things in the world than bad schedules, long days at work, and people who complain when you bring them munchkins (although, people complaining about donut holes is on my "seriously depraved" list). I want to be the kind of person who can remind myself of that in each of those moments when you start feeling like you might blow a gasket, and then take a deep breath and go back to my shiny, happy, winning-smile personality. Okay, maybe that's overdoing it. A lot. But at least go back to my Sunny Wednesday Pants!


But alas, I just can't all the time. I suppose when I really think about it the people who can do that all the time would make me put my Stabby Pants back on anyway. What I can do though, is take a little while to wallow in my annoyance, and then vent about it over email to people who like the occasional munchkin as much as I do. And before I know it, the topic has turned to Spring. Then Summer. Then pictures of these amazing looking Margarita's with a beer doing a headstand in it. Oh my! Is that...sun I feel creeping in? Memorial Day camping is only 7 weeks away you say? And it's supposed to be 60 next week??


It's amazing what thoughts of warm weather, BBQ's with friends, playgrounds and picnics with N, lounging on the beach, and sleeping in a tent on the river can do for my mood. Winter is always long, and this one included mass amounts of snow and shoveling. By the time March rolls around I am usually starting to feel desperate to take my coat off and put my boots away. Add in the not-so-fun last few weeks we've had and I am more than ready to tell Winter exactly where it can go. I don't think I would ever trade those feelings for a place where the seasons are much more mild and blend into one another more easily though. I'm not sure the first day that I throw open the windows and get to wear ballet flats without socks would be nearly as sweet. And neither would email conversations with my friends about what we love about the coming months.   

So, I might still have a few co-workers who don't know a kind gesture when they see one, and I still don't have my coveted weekend away from everyday life, but I do have Spring. And Summer. And if I'm lucky, those margarita's with the head standing beer!

Monday, March 28, 2011

The Flu

Yes, that's right. The flu.


My family was taken down one by one in the last 7 days with some horrible virus that was doing it's best to kill me, or at the very least, make me crazy. It started with the husband on Sunday (I have since started referring to him as "The Monkey from Outbreak", aka TMFO). By Monday night I was sure something just wasn't "right". I ended up being home and out of commission from Tuesday until half-way through the day on Friday when my fever had been gone long enough for me to at least go to work and check emails and make sure they hadn't replaced me. Nora spiked a fever at my mom-in-laws on Friday afternoon and battled it over the next 48 hours.


It has been a long 7 days.


Since I just don't think it's possible to wax poetic about the flu, instead I give you my observations from being bed/couch/house bound for much too long:


1. My 80's crush on Rob Lowe is alive and well in 2011. The amount of Brothers and Sisters that I watched should embarrass me.

2. Being able to stream Netflix is the greatest invention EVER.

3. I am not good at staying still for long periods of time anymore. This used to be something I was a master at, and it seems to be a talent I have lost along the way. I found myself glaring at the dust bunnies underneath the entertainment center and willing them to pick themselves up. The dog and cat were no help.

4. My daughter is the sweetest, most empathetic little soul I have ever met. Her concern for both me and her father was heartbreaking.

5. My husband is much more patient with me when I am ill than me of him (mental note to work on this in the future).

6. I would not be the same kind of person or parent (hopefully a good one) than I am without my "village". My mother-in-law saved the day by picking N up from daycare one day and taking her home with her in the hopes she would not catch what we had, and to let us rest. My mother, who had been sick herself, babied me over the phone a couple times a day. My friends offered assistance and kept me entertained with emails and text messages. My neighbor practically chased me down with offers of ginger ale and running errands. These people take care of me in a way I only hope to be able to return.

7. I feel like a slug without exercise.

8. I am so grateful for my health. This was *just* the flu. I can't even fathom what it's like for those brave families who battle deadly diseases and debilitating chronic illnesses each day. We are so lucky (mental note to remind myself of this much more often). 

9. I LIKE all the juggling we do on a daily/weekly/monthly basis. I have talked a lot about balance here, and how hard that can be sometimes. And yes, it surely is, but we do it for a reason. Just a week without Punk Rope, meet-ups with friends, work, yoga with other parents, and visiting family members made me feel SO DULL. I like the stimulation of all that we love to do as a family and as individuals. I missed the balancing act and I am looking forward to life getting back to it's normal state of chaos this week. 




In other news: we have decided to join a CSA/Farm Share. This makes me giddy and it does deserve it's own post when things are all said and done. And now that I am on the mend, it's time to start putting together a plan for 10K training. Oh boy. Stay tuned! 

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

*Gulp*

This morning at 7 AM (after starting a load of laundry, packing my lunch for work, feeding the pets, and checking in on N, who was still sound asleep) I got on my laptop and signed myself up for the Beach to Beacon with about 3,999 other people. 

Consider me freaking out. From now until August 6th.   

Monday, March 14, 2011

Only 30-something More To Go!

On Friday, I left work early and did this:


That would be most of my hair. Yes, it's a little creepy laying there like that, but not nearly as creepy as carrying it around in a plastic bag like I was afterwards!


And today, I put it in this:


Sorry about the terrible quality, but my phone is my only means of picture taking for the time being. My 8 or so inches of hair are in that envelope, ready to head to Ohio.

It's A LOT of hair off my head. I feel light, I feel free, and I also feel like I am missing a limb in some ways. Washing it, brushing it, putting product in it to tame it is SO. MUCH. EASIER. I swear it took 20 minutes off my ready time. This makes the husband and the child happy, I am sure. I am so happy I did this, for myself, and for someone out there who will hopefully reap the benefits of that long (slightly creepy) ponytail that is on it's way to Ohio.

Here is the end result, although this isn't really an accurate take on it since they straightened it after cutting it. I never straighten my hair unless some poor sap offers to do it for me. It's the only picture I have at the moment, so it will do. Once I have a better (and curly) one I will post it. So for now, here you go:





Cheers to Spring Hair and checking something else off my list!

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Oh yeah...and I also work.

I realized after my last post (about a simple list of priorities), that it might seem odd that I totally left off the list the place I spend 40 hours a week. Or maybe it seemed like I don't have one of those pesky little things called A Job. Well, I do. I have worked in the same place for 13 years. THIRTEEN YEARS. And still, I left it off the list. When I wrote that post last week I was also in the midst of one of the more stressful and exhausting weeks I have had at work in a long time. And for a plethora of different reasons (which I will not bore you with) those kinds of weeks are going to be the norm for a while at work. We are prepping for big changes at my place of employment, and right now, there isn't an end in sight. The days are all-consuming, I leave with my head spinning, I have moments during the day where all I want is to hide under or behind something, and I desperately need a vacation. Yet it doesn't make the list.


I am sure the reason I overlooked it in that moment was because I was having such a crazy week. I didn't have anymore space in my brain for it, and I wanted to think about all the other things in my life. Overall though, my job and I have a complicated relationship. It's not fair to say it's THIS job either, I don't think. At this job, I have many co-workers who have become amazing friends, they have been patient with me and accommodating when I spent most of my 20's taking classes, changing my mind about schools, schedules and careers, they have supported me through huge life changes, deaths, personal upheaval, planning a wedding, having a baby, I could go on and on. That's what happens when you have been working at the same place since you were 19. So, my issue with leaving my job off a list of priorities has little to do with the people here, or what kind of place it is to work. I mean, nobody is perfect, no job is perfect. There are days when those co-workers, who threw me a lovely baby shower, and gave me some of the most treasured gifts we received for N, make me want to run screaming from the building. That's life. That's people.


It has to do with the fact that there isn't a time in my life that I can remember ever being able to answer the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" or "What do you want to major in?" or even "What do you do?" seriously. I found it perplexing when I was a kid...what do you mean what do I want to be? Me. I want to be me, and no, I have no idea what career/job I want to slave away at for a large chunk of my life. What a ridiculous concept! 


I just never found "that thing" that people speak of. A career/job/passion that fills me up and inspires me and makes me want to work there 40+ hours a week for the rest of my life. I have so much in my life that does inspire me and fill me with hope and passion, and makes me want to take part in it for the rest of my life, just not something that wants to pay me weekly and give me health insurance. For a long time this made me feel bad about myself. I felt like there was something wrong with me for not walking into Kindergarten when I was 5 and KNOWING that I wanted to be a doctor and that I would go to med school and someday become the Surgeon General. And the same goes for wanting to go off to college when I was 18 and study to be the most amazing middle school teacher on the planet. I have so much respect, and even envy the people who did, and who are still doing those things. I'm just not one of them. I still say I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I do love learning new things, and taking classes, and filling my brain, but again, none of that has made me feel like I want to make a career out of something in particular. 


It's fascinating and frustrating to me that the first question people ask someone they have never met, or haven't seen in a long time, is "What do you do?". I wonder when people started being defined by what they do for work? Was it always this way? I am so many things, do so many things, and love so many things...why do people only care about where I work? Maybe we are too scared to ask anything else. Maybe anything else would be too personal. Or maybe you might learn something about a person that makes you uncomfortable. I don't know, but I, for one, think it's time we start asking each other something less tired and overused.


I am also well aware that without all the amazing people in the world who knew in Kindergarten that they wanted to go to med school, be a teacher, invent the next smart phone, cook amazing food, make beautiful music, or run the local food bank, that my life would be affected in a way I don't want to imagine. But I am sure all of those inspired people do and love loads of other things than their work. Maybe they would even identify with one of those other things more than what they "do". Maybe they would love it if someone asked.


My reality is that I need to work. I have a mortgage to pay, a child to raise, dinners to cook, a car to put gas in, vacations to take (soooon pleeeaaase) and health to maintain. Those aren't the ONLY reasons I work. I would choose to work in some capacity even if I didn't "need" it for all these other things. I work hard, I even take pride in what I do most days, but it's not where I find my inspiration on a daily basis. It's not where I fill myself up and think about solving the world's problems. It's not who I am.

Like I said, it's complicated.    

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Priorities

As I have ranted about before, finding balance (and establishing priorities) seems to be one of those life struggles that everyone can relate to. My balancing act is always a work in progress and I have found lately, specifically through starting this blog and finding a voice for all of these things, that reading and writing about it is making those "things" I am balancing start to form a line. What I see as priorities are becoming more clear. It's not always a straight line, and the order of these things can change from minute to minute, but still, some form of organization is taking place.

One of my loveliest (and talkiest) friends pointed me to this blog a while ago: smallnotebook.org 

I love it. For so many reasons. Mostly because she doesn't claim to have all the answers, but she works hard at simplifying her life, keeping her priorities in line, and then shares what she finds works for her and her family. Not one strategy for anything would work for everyone, but having the seed planted is what matters. That's exactly what she did for me in regards to this post. I was wandering around her blog and found this particular post about making a list of the things that she sees as her biggest priorities in order to keep her life in balance. It's a very basic list broken down into the categories that are most important to her. I love it because it reminds you that the list doesn't need to say "sweep the porch, scrub the bathtub, paint the house, and feed the cat". In your day to day, are all those things really a priority? No. Well, other than feeding the poor cat. Even if he is trying to kill me.

I really do need a reminder once in a while that it's okay to let some things go. I don't need to worry myself over the laundry that didn't all make into the drawers of my dresser over the weekend, or that you can't eat off my kitchen floor 7 days a week (or ever, actually). Those simply aren't my priorities on most days.

So, inspired by Small Notebook, here is my basic, but very important, list:

Child
- Meet her immediate/basic needs
- Play with her
- Show her love and patience
- Teach her

Husband
- Listen to him
- Spend unplugged time alone with him
- Show him love and patience
- Say thank you

Me
- Quiet time to read/write/nothing
- Exercise
- Pursue new/old interests
- Show myself the same love and patience

House
- Picking up
- Laundry
- Food Planning/shopping
- Dishes/Basic chores

Pets
- Meet basic needs
- Walk/play with them
- Litter box
- Vet visits

Friends/Family
- Communicate
- Plan time (even if it seems so far away)
- Offer assistance when possible
- Show them love and patience


There you have it. Maybe it seems too simple or too broad, but that's how it needs to be for me on days when I am running 100 miles an hour from one place to the next, my wheels and mind spinning. Taking a deep breath and remembering what is more important, what takes priority, and what will get me through the day with myself (and my loved ones) in tact, goes a very long way. And sometimes that deep breath, a glass of wine, and some form of chocolate will go even further.

What's on your list?

Friday, February 25, 2011

Hair

I have a lot of it. Big, bushy, curly, long, dark hair. Yes, yes, I know that many people would love to have it, and that "the grass is always greener", and all that jazz. It has taken me many years to come to love it and see it as part of my personality, part of who I am. It's big and unruly much of the time, it seems to take a different shape each day, it truly does have a mind of it's own. But in the end, it's only hair.


Right?


I know I am not the only one who has hair moods. At least I would like to think so, since I don't really need one more thing that makes me (and everyone else) think I might not be making such a slow descent into crazy. It can make you feel fun, serious, sporty, frumpy, silly, sassy (Spice Girls?), all of the above. Sometimes a new 'do can even give you a new lease on life. A little pick-me-up along the way. So what happens when someone loses their hair? It might seem shallow to think that it could make a person feel like they're losing part of themselves, part of their identity, because afterall, it's just hair.


Right?


Lately my locks have been making me feel heavy. Weighed down. I even wake up at night and find half of it wrapped around my neck and think that it might be the cat finally following through on his plan to get rid of me (seriously). I am sure part of it is the Winter Slump we are all feeling here in the Northeast. We are longing for Spring, for the sun to melt the now-brown snow, to warm us up, to get us out on a patio for an outdoor happy hour. The other part might be my automatic reaction to people telling me it's "gotten soooo long!" and then reaching out to touch it, which would be to wear a hat or immediately put it up. I have always had a thing about people touching my hair...much like all the strangers who automatically reach out and touch a pregnant belly without asking if that's okay (it's not, by the way). It's not an interactive display, it's actually attached to my head.  


Anyway, it would seem as though #5 on the list is going to come sooner than I originally expected. I am making myself an appointment in March, and if all goes well, 8 or more inches of this unruly mop will be going to Pantene Beautiful Lengths or Locks of Love (depending on how many inches I can chop). Nothing would make me happier than sharing the wealth of hair I have inherited with someone who is feeling like they need a little pick-me-up or a new lease on life, and in doing that I'll be giving myself the attitude adjustment I feel like my head needs. All this, and it's only hair.

Monday, February 21, 2011

I Am (Not) An Athlete

There are about 1,000 words I could use to describe who I am and what I do. Athlete is not one of them. In fact, I have spent most of my life making sure I am the first person to make some sort of self-deprecating comment when the topic of athleticism might come up. I always found joy in being the girl at my friends events talking too loud, making inappropriate jokes, being (one of) the first people to crack a beer or pour a glass of wine, and saying I am the resident asthmatic who doesn't "do" running, or biking, or swimming, or gymming, or [insert sweat-inducing activity here]. And let's be honest, the word "found" isn't accurate, I still do find A LOT of joy in all of those things. It's just that, well, I also found in the last year that I, *gasp*, also kinda, sorta like running, and biking, and jumping rope, and practicing yoga, and chasing my child and my friends children around the birthday party of the week.

What does this mean?? Is the world coming to an end? Have I matured (doubtful)? Did someone perform a lobotomy on me while I wasn't looking? Who am I?? 

I suppose that's all a little dramatic. Shocking, for those who know me. It's not that I never played sports and didn't enjoy them. I did. A lot, actually. I was a ballerina from age 3 until I hit high school and found that chasing boys and avoiding my homework was much more interesting than barre exercises and recitals. I played Field Hockey until my senior year. I was a cheerleader for my last 2 years. I was in great shape, and like all 17 year olds, had no idea, and didn't appreciate it like I would now.

What happened between then and now? Dorm life. Beer. Concerts and road trips. Falling in love, making new friends, getting engaged/married, buying a home, working 40 hours a week, adopting a dog, more beer and BBQ's, and starting a family. Life.

I think it was about how socialization changed. In High School, our lives revolve around those hallways and classrooms and (for some) after school activities. Then they set us free into the "real world" and we have to figure out how to make new friends (and keep the old), live on our own, etc, etc. You know the drill. And this doesn't mean that it worked this way for everyone. It's my understanding that a lot of people continued to run and play sports and make their general health a priority. I even know a few of these people! For me though, for someone who is not an athlete, those things just didn't carry through. 

Fast forward to a year ago when I put on running sneakers and downloaded the Couch to 5K podcasts onto my ipod. As I said before I had plenty of excuses as to why I didn't take my desire to get healthy seriously until then. But why did I suddenly get off the couch and do it? An old friend of mine, who I love and admire immensely, ran into me at my very first 5K (on Mother's Day last year) and she asked me why I started running. My off-the-cuff answer was that I had an 18 month old and it was the only time I had ALONE. How funny and how true that is. 15 years ago I strapped those running shoes on because everyone else I knew was doing it, and now I do it to get away from everybody else I know! Being alone with my ipod and not having to think about anything was such a gift. It still is such a gift, it's just been tough to find the time (and the above-freezing temperature) to do it. Excuses, I know.

Motivation is an interesting thing.

Anyway, back to the point, I am still not an athlete. I'm not sure I ever will be, but I am someone who found that person deep down in there somewhere (whether it was because I wanted 30 minutes to myself or not) and after a while I started to like it. Maybe even love it a little. Challenging myself in new ways, making lists that include insane things like running the Beach to Beacon, and even making some dear friends meet me at Punk Rope to enjoy this thing called exercise with me, it's all actually, do I dare say, fun? I'm not sure where this is going to take me and my self-deprecating attitude, but so far I am enjoying the ride...and the occasional run. 






"Time does not change us. It just unfolds us.“~Max Frisch

Monday, February 7, 2011

What Didn't Make The List

As I mentioned previously, The List took me some time to complete. I wrote, scribbled, scratched, removed, added, and so on for a while. Obviously, there are many things I would like to accomplish by myself, with my family, and with my friends that did not necessarily make the cut this time around. That doesn't mean I'm not doing them if/when the opportunity presents itself,  and since most of my posts have already been about things that aren't on The List, then why stop now?


Something that was on there and removed was participating in a parent/child yoga class. The reason this was removed was because for 2+ years now I have not been able to fine one (not ONE) that was tailored to N's age group or that fit our schedule. By our "schedule", I mean a class held on the weekend when I'm not at work (I will spare you my rantings on that topic today. My husband and I are full-time working parents, this is something that comes up often, so there will be plenty more opportunity for that blog post.). Until now. I have driven by a little space about a mile from our house a few times in the last couple of months and noticed a yoga studio taking form. I kept an eye out for the "open" sign and any kind of advertising for classes. I found them on Facebook and started following along with their progress. And FINALLY there was a place offering Tot classes for 2-5 year olds (score!) on Saturday mornings (win!).


This past Saturday N and I put on our yoga pants and checked it out. The woman running the class was lovely. She read a story about a polar bear and a tiger making their way home after being lost, and running into plenty of adventure along the way. Then she picked series of poses and stretches that pertained to the book as much as possible. N loved trying to get herself into position and loved even more when she was asked what kind of noises and movements she thought certain animals make. We did partner poses with each other, and she also got to crawl underneath me and dance around me during any stretches she wasn't participating in. I think her favorite part was rolling up the mats though and putting them away! We really enjoyed it and will definitely be back. Spending time doing something new and different with her AND getting in a work out? Yes, please.

I doubt this will be the only honorable mention on my list. Hell, I cleaned two closets last week during a snow day that have been on a list for YEARS! That deserves recognition too, but I have opened the doors to them about 100 times since then as my husband walks by to show them off and bask in my accomplishment (they even smell good!). That's enough for now.

Sidenote, re: things actually on the list:

- I marked my calendar for swim lesson sign-ups in April. N and I would start in May...the snow probably won't melt until July anyway.

- I also marked my calendar for the Beach to Beacon 2011 registration which is in March (the race is in August). Just typing that makes me feel faint.

Stay tuned...

Friday, January 28, 2011

The B Word

There has been a common theme running through various parts of my life lately. It's something I struggle with on a daily basis, and through conversations with dear friends, listening to the people around me, and tuning into my own chaotic internal monologue, I realize this just might be life's Holy Grail: Balance.

The balance between friends, family, work, hobbies, taking care of yourself, eating, sleeping, etc. You name it. It requires balance. Time, energy, money, sacrifice, desire, motivation, willpower, creativity, passion...all of those things (and more) are required to keep all the balls (that's what she said) in the air. I don't how good I am at this. I think that having a child has tuned me into these things in a way that I just plain didn't understand before. That's not to say that being a mother, father, parent, or guardian means that you have more to balance, or that you are part of some special club that means you immediately and inexplicably know how to juggle. It just means that, for me, I finally started to take notice of all the balls I was not-so-gracefully tossing into the great wide open. It has also opened me up to realize that EVERYONE is doing the same thing. Hoping, wishing, willing, and praying that all of their amateur juggling isn't going to knock them on their ass. 

Back to me. Take this week, for example:

Sunday: Husband goes into work for a couple hours, I run errands with N. We have my father and brother over for dinner and football. All the while one of us is attempting to do laundry.

Monday: I work and then head out to meet one of my oldest and dearest friends for burritos bigger than our head and fast catch-up discussion about our kids, work, her nursing school, our families, exercise, BALANCE, and when we will get together again. 

Tuesday: I work, run home to walk the dog, pick up N from daycare, and then head to Punk Rope. Come home to passed out child and a husband who is late for band practice and trapped under the unconscious N. 

Wednesday: Work, run home to walk the dog, pick up N from daycare, attempt to throw together dinner while the child who never naps fights falling asleep. Eat with husband, crash. 

Thursday: Work, run home and walk the dog, shovel half the driveway of what the 100th snowstorm of the season produced, head to Punk Rope. Come home to a child who is punishing me for not being home enough this week, husband shovels rest of the driveway, we eat, then crash. 

Friday: Work (that's really getting depressing to type), drive out to Standish to pick up the napless wonder, along the way stop to get milk and a much-needed bottle of wine. Bring home sleeping child, veg for what seems like the first time in forever (husband is at band practice #2).

On tap for this weekend: Get up at some unGodly hour, drink coffee while obsessing over all that I need to do, yet refusing to do any of it for atleast an hour (this is a must for me). Groceries, then going to pick up my spunky and amazing 12 year-old sister-in-law for an afternoon of lunching, shopping, watching movies, and playing Wii. She will sleepover.  Sunday will consist of bringing her back home, squeezing in some laundry and family time, I am sure the husband will need to get a couple hours in at work.

All that. I/we did ALL that and still, there is SO MUCH MORE. The chore and house repair list is as tall as I am (if there were an actual physical list, which there is not), the dishes were in the sink for days until Super Husband did them before he left for BP #2 tonight, the dogs toe nails are way too long (not to mention my hair), I signed up for a 5K that is 1 month away and I have done nothing about training for it, I have a handful of the best, I want to eat-them-with-a-spoon, friends that I would love to lounge in my pj's with until we have talked this subject into dust, family members we haven't seen in way too long, projects that are half-finished, lists of dates for babysitters needed so I can go watch Super Husband on stage, doing what he loves so much...deep breath...I could go on and on.

If I am being honest, I probably only care about 1/4 of that list on a daily basis. Something will always suffer. I try to make sure that is never my husband, my daughter, my family, my friends, or my pets. Realistically, I know they will (and already do) even when I think I have it all on an even keel. My point is this: I do what I can, when I can, how I can. And I am happy. 

Is this balance? Damned if I know.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Excuses

There really are a million of them, aren't there? For everything. Why you haven't tried something, done something, finished something, said something, written something, eaten something, gone somewhere, etc. I have been thinking about these lately. Not because there aren't valid excuses, or that they don't have their place, but because I want to be conscious of them. I want to up my bullsh*t detector, if you will. And I mean with myself, not the people surrounding me (although that might not hurt either).

For instance, it took me almost 18 months after my daughter was born to take the plunge and join Weight Watchers and take my desire to lose weight seriously. I WANTED to get that last 20 pounds off, but we all know wanting something doesn't mean you get it. Work means you get things. Action. Commitment. Drive. Encouragement. I was tired. I had a newborn and then a toddler who was (and sometimes still is) a terrible sleeper. I had so many new and old things to balance in my life. I had a whole new set of emotions that came along with motherhood to manage. I had excuses. I did need that time to excuse myself for whatever reason, but I also needed to stop the excuses and take action. There is always a reason not to do something, but as being a mother has taught me in a way that nothing else could, time is passing us by. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week. How I spend that time is completely up to me. What an amazing gift. One that I need to remind myself of more.

I love thinking of things that have scared the crap out of me that I just up and did and how rewarding it's been. I need to conjure up that feeling much more often. Like deciding to have a baby. Or applying for a CNA course and following it through to the end. Or quitting a sport that all my other friends played in high school because what I really wanted to be was a cheerleader. Or telling the boy that had chased me for 7 years that yes, I did love him, and he was right. We do belong together. 

So back to that bullsh*t detector. This is my reminder that excuses have a limited amount of time and space in my life. They can only be a crutch for so long, and then I'll call bullsh*t on myself. This time is mine and I want to use it wisely. No more excuses.   

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Re: Goal Weight

This is something that I have been working towards since march of 2010. If I am being honest though, I should say that I worked on this very seriously from March until about October...then the holiday and cold weather excuses took up residence in my brain. I am not far off. It's something I was very close to and have inched away from with every bite of Halloween candy, drop of gravy on my Thanksgiving plate, extra glass of wine, and Christmas fudge that has crossed my lips. Along with my running sneakers slowly making their way under my bed and my snooze button being more tempting on the dark Winter mornings, it's clear that I need to renew my commitment to myself and get back on the wagon! 

So, what's the plan? I started attending Punk Rope Maine once a week last October and LOVE IT. They just added a second class on Thursdays, and thanks to the support and encouragement from that fabulous husband of mine (it's one of the days that N is at my mom-in-laws, which is a much longer drive for pick-up) I will go twice a week starting this week. I also just signed myself up for the Irish Road Rover on March 6th, which is supposed to scare me enough to save my sneakers from the dust bunnies. It's time to find myself some cold weather running gear!

It's also back to making smarter choices about what I am eating and also what we are eating as a family. I know I should meal plan for the week, and I know what's good for us and what's not, it's having the same things again and again that gets hard. It's the dreaded Food Rut. I want to try new things and make things ahead on the weekends, have our freezer stocked with homemade casseroles, etc. I find it difficult to add this into our already crazy weekends though. Tips and Tricks anyone? I'd love some new ideas.

So there it is, (the beginnings of) a plan. Watch it, dust bunnies!

Monday, January 10, 2011

What does it all mean?

Technically, I suppose, I have already accomplished 1 and 2 on my list (which will stay on the side bar permanently as a reminder to myself and whatever readers I may have). Is this cheating? I don't think so...and it's my list, so guess who's say matters? The List took me some time, and it's something I have been thinking about for a while. It's obvious that some of these things are much bigger undertakings than others, but that's the beauty of it. Take Flying a Kite for instance...I might do that 20 times between now and 35, but that isn't the point. It serves as a reminder for something that I have said I need/want to do, and in the chaos of daily life, haven't remembered to do it. So here I am, telling myself that these things, big and small, are important to me and WILL get done. I am a procrastinator, and it's not something I want to teach my daughter, and it's not something I want to call myself forever. This is step 1 (and 2!) of many in front of me. So far, so good....right?

Friday, January 7, 2011

The List

1. Make a 35 before 35 list
2. Start a blog about this list
3. Learn to bake bread
4. Run the Beach to Beacon
5. Donate my hair to Pantene Beautiful Lengths
6. Take a cooking class
7. Plant a garden
8. Make a decision with my fabulous husband about expanding our family
9. Train for, and participate in, a triathlon
10. Grow my own tomatoes
11. Take a dance class
12. Build a fairy house on Mackworth Island with N
13. Find a cause I am passionate about to volunteer for
14. Involve N in volunteering
15. Learn to golf
16. Move my family towards a more sustainable and organic lifestyle
17. Take a mini vaca with my mother
18. Take N to swimming lessons
19. Cook and host a holiday meal for my family
20. Cook and host a holiday meal for my friends
21. Learn to knit
22. Take a vacation ALONE with my husband
23. Make my goal weight
24. Reunite with the Roods cousins
25. Take N to see The Nutcracker
26. Watch Casablanca
27. Get a new tattoo
28. Participate in a "no spending" month
29. Fly a kite
30. Eat at Fore Street
31. Snowshoe
32. See a Broadway show
33. Have a yard sale
34. Make a baby book for Nora
35. Make a wedding album

The "rules":

These don't need to be accomplished in any particular order. I do need to write about it afterwards...sometimes before and during. I reserve the right to "tweak" any task, but not completely change it or take it away. If I don't accomplish all of it? Hmmm...I live in shame and take public lashings on this blog. Orrrr...I add it to my 40 before 40 list that comes after. 

Here goes nothing!