OK- I am having one of those days...actually one of those weeks. I am increasingly wanting to act selfishly. And I really don't care. There is nothing pretty or flowery about this situation. I make no claims to be perfectly Martha Stewart at every moment in my life. This is one of them.
Fireman was home for a good few day stint after being at the station for 5 days (actually he has been home for 3 days in last 14, but whose counting?). I really took a load off when he arrived through that door. I hugged and loved on my hunky Fireman. I even cooked one night for the family while he was here to reap the benefits. I really missed him and knew he would be leaving again soon for a while. I nestled into a real cozy family while he was here. BBQing by the pool, letting time fly while I read my novel and he played with his babies. We watched movies that weren't rated G. I slept in while he hushed the kids so as not to wake me. I was in Heaven. Literal Heaven on Earth.
Then he went back to work. I woke up late- probably because I was starting to get used to it by then. I had saved up running my errands for when he did leave, and I have been racing to catch up since then. See, all my running the house hold routine takes a hiatus when Fireman is here. I don't cook because I love his cooking. I don't shop unless we absolutely need something. I don't do bills, I don't do laundry. We stay up late, we catch a movie or watch Dateline. We lounge in the morning after the kids leave for school and sip coffee, pour over the newspaper, and watch GMA. So the morning he leaves, I am busting butt trying to play catch up.
This week has literally taken its toll on every fiber in my body. I can't catch up with anything! Laundry seems to be going well, and a kid pees the bed. I have the day squared away, and the other kid calls from school urgently needing something he should of remembered on his own. On my way to the gym, the car is out of gas. Try to print important stuff off the computer...no ink. You get the point? Well, normally, I am go with the flow. This is my job as I see it. I am here to deal with those things. And I do.
However, this week, I have no desire to- at all. I have no patience with homework. I have no desire to drag a 5 year old around to my multiple stops during the day. I found myself actually trying to scour the Internet for how to make milk from a few ingredients in my cupboard- without luck- so I wouldn't have to go the store. My daughters normal darling way of musical talking incessantly has become just incessant. I have no patience for anything that doesn't involve me, a book or an ice cold beer.
Is this what the teachers mean when they say they can tell when the students are getting itchy for summer break? I can't figure it out. I am definitely ready for school to be out, but for way different reasons than the kids are. I am done with projects and riding my boys on their homework and GP A's. I am done making lunches, done missing my workouts, done rushing around in the morning, done rushing to after school activities, done worrying about having everything in life complete before 2:30 on Tuesday and Thursday, and by 12:30 on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
I don't know what is the cause of this shift in my brain. I am sure it has something to do with our beautiful weather lately. It has allowed my veins to get a small drip of what our Summer's are filled to the brim with. Boating trips, BB Q's with great friends, lazy days and nights with no where to be, and of course...beer (or whatever is being poured at the time).
All I can do is pray, vacuum, and kick-box my way to sanity right now. I got to hang in. I just have to find a way to compartmentalize my irritation and down right insanity at the goings on right now.
Until then, I am open to suggestions...though I give you fair warning, I am a red-head and not afraid to use it!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Life's That Way ---->
I just finished a really enchanting memoir. This book had me doing all the things I love to do with a really great story... laughing, crying the whole thing. I know it's a good book when I continue to re-hash its events over and over in my mind. The story will settle into an understanding I didn't have while reading it. Sometimes my perception changes of certain scenes. What was sad and depressing, actually makes a different kind of sense to me a week after completing the book. That, to me, is a really good book. This one was like that- I found myself thinking, and rethinking of the title. Life's That Way.
When reflecting on my own life, I recognize a very common theme. Common meaning we all as humans have the same circumstances in one way or another that make us feel and connect at a very human level, with very human emotions. It's recognizing this commonality that sets us apart because we all do it in different ways, different areas of the world under different circumstances and from different backgrounds.
My own journey has been one of multiple up, down and sideways events. I can look back still and remember sequences of life happening in such a way to have shaped my life as I know it now as if it were literally a few moments ago. Like when I was 9 and my dad had me drive my sister and I home from the stables we kept our horses at after dark on the I5 freeway from San Juan Capistrano to Mission Viejo. I can still feel my little legs tight against the steering wheel of the Mustang as I sat on his lap while he operated the gas and brake pedal. I can hear his voice warning me not to tell my mom that he had me driving I can smell his dirty alcohol stained breath as he coached me the whole way home. The memory was one like a good book is now, it didn't really bear any importance or value until a few months ago when I was folding towels letting my mind wander and this particular memory hit me upside the head. I had to sit down and allow myself to recollect the situation and mull it over and over to iron out details. It was fun and harmless then, it is not now.
What details grab me now didn't grab me at the time. The impact my own memior has on me as I was going through the living part of it didn't bear any resemblance to what it does now in my 34 year old psyche. My mothers soft touch of her hands on my face, a boyfriends breakup in high school, my sisters lighting in her room while she put on her makeup. Becoming pregnant for the first time at 21, watching my mother fight and succumb to cancer. The making and losing of dear friends. The absolute joys of raising my children. The warming feeling of unconditional love, and finding it in my husband. The moment I found out I was pregnant for the third time, feeling to my core it was my daughter. Becoming aware that my life goes on and on regardless of the seemingly endless experience of illness, prosperity, relationships, family drama, and general life is what absolutely makes my experience unique to anyone else.
What is not unique is that I have them. I experience everything everyone else does. Sure to different degrees and at different times, but really in my own perfect time. Losing my best friend during a childhood squabble paved the way I respond mentally and physically to similar situations as an adult.
I can remember at the time of my mothers death it was as if my world came to a screeching halt. What I realize now, is that life as I knew it then had stopped. I began to slowly begin living and feeling again, though differently. I can't remember exactly the moment, but I do remember having one of complete understanding. I understood that life would continue to happen all around me and through me constantly, at times so much so that I would have to consciously re-learn how to live, even when I didn't want to. I would need to constantly be adapting to whatever a particular experience imprinted on me into my new life.
The experience of having children is a great analogy. If you don't have them, you have no idea what to expect day to day mentally, physically, emotionally, and financially. If you have experienced the death of someone very close to you, relating to anothers aftermath is something you are capable of doing. The key is becoming aware that regardless of what life brings your way, it will go on. Differently.
I could relate to almost every raw word in this book I read. I picked it up sensing the title "Life's That Way" held the meaning of "well, that's just the way life is". In fact, it was a direction. LIFE IS THAT WAY ----> In other words, look around after life happens to you, it continues to grow and build, in another way. And when allowed, as I have experienced, it just gets more and more fulfilling with the ways it expands your level of compassion, endurance, happiness, sadness, wealth, contribution, and even kindness you show to your self and others. We choose our action and reaction based on what life has shown us, but hopefully we can remember to apply what life has just added to our suitcase that will never be to full, and continue following the signs that tell us, Life's That Way ----->
When reflecting on my own life, I recognize a very common theme. Common meaning we all as humans have the same circumstances in one way or another that make us feel and connect at a very human level, with very human emotions. It's recognizing this commonality that sets us apart because we all do it in different ways, different areas of the world under different circumstances and from different backgrounds.
My own journey has been one of multiple up, down and sideways events. I can look back still and remember sequences of life happening in such a way to have shaped my life as I know it now as if it were literally a few moments ago. Like when I was 9 and my dad had me drive my sister and I home from the stables we kept our horses at after dark on the I5 freeway from San Juan Capistrano to Mission Viejo. I can still feel my little legs tight against the steering wheel of the Mustang as I sat on his lap while he operated the gas and brake pedal. I can hear his voice warning me not to tell my mom that he had me driving I can smell his dirty alcohol stained breath as he coached me the whole way home. The memory was one like a good book is now, it didn't really bear any importance or value until a few months ago when I was folding towels letting my mind wander and this particular memory hit me upside the head. I had to sit down and allow myself to recollect the situation and mull it over and over to iron out details. It was fun and harmless then, it is not now.
What details grab me now didn't grab me at the time. The impact my own memior has on me as I was going through the living part of it didn't bear any resemblance to what it does now in my 34 year old psyche. My mothers soft touch of her hands on my face, a boyfriends breakup in high school, my sisters lighting in her room while she put on her makeup. Becoming pregnant for the first time at 21, watching my mother fight and succumb to cancer. The making and losing of dear friends. The absolute joys of raising my children. The warming feeling of unconditional love, and finding it in my husband. The moment I found out I was pregnant for the third time, feeling to my core it was my daughter. Becoming aware that my life goes on and on regardless of the seemingly endless experience of illness, prosperity, relationships, family drama, and general life is what absolutely makes my experience unique to anyone else.
What is not unique is that I have them. I experience everything everyone else does. Sure to different degrees and at different times, but really in my own perfect time. Losing my best friend during a childhood squabble paved the way I respond mentally and physically to similar situations as an adult.
I can remember at the time of my mothers death it was as if my world came to a screeching halt. What I realize now, is that life as I knew it then had stopped. I began to slowly begin living and feeling again, though differently. I can't remember exactly the moment, but I do remember having one of complete understanding. I understood that life would continue to happen all around me and through me constantly, at times so much so that I would have to consciously re-learn how to live, even when I didn't want to. I would need to constantly be adapting to whatever a particular experience imprinted on me into my new life.
The experience of having children is a great analogy. If you don't have them, you have no idea what to expect day to day mentally, physically, emotionally, and financially. If you have experienced the death of someone very close to you, relating to anothers aftermath is something you are capable of doing. The key is becoming aware that regardless of what life brings your way, it will go on. Differently.
I could relate to almost every raw word in this book I read. I picked it up sensing the title "Life's That Way" held the meaning of "well, that's just the way life is". In fact, it was a direction. LIFE IS THAT WAY ----> In other words, look around after life happens to you, it continues to grow and build, in another way. And when allowed, as I have experienced, it just gets more and more fulfilling with the ways it expands your level of compassion, endurance, happiness, sadness, wealth, contribution, and even kindness you show to your self and others. We choose our action and reaction based on what life has shown us, but hopefully we can remember to apply what life has just added to our suitcase that will never be to full, and continue following the signs that tell us, Life's That Way ----->
Friday, March 12, 2010
My Best Friend the Vacum
Well, it's official, though I do actually have a lot of great friends in my life, my BFF is my vacum.
I realized this last week while cleaning my house. Vacuum is always there and available when I need him the most. I will refer to Vacum as male, because a vacum seems masculine in the way he barges through the house, leaving no corner with dust in his tracks. Vacum listens to my rants about how unfair it is to be me. And Vacum is also there when I am joyous about the special occasions we are preparing for. Vacum never tells me to calm down or that I am being out of line, even when I throw him around recklessly.
Vacum knows all my intimate secrets. I trust him completely. He knows my desires, and fulfills them when I am most in need. We do have a love hate relationship. I hate pulling and pushing him all around the house (twice a week sometimes more). I hate the pain in my neck and back after a good session. However, I strongly believe, as with every relationship, you need to weigh the good with the bad. I spend the most time with him than with any other friend. He hears my woes without judgement. He is up and running when I say go. And all the while, no matter what mood he may find me in, he leaves me with such a sense of accomplishment. I am left feeling grateful. Grateful for my clean carpet. Grateful I have such a great friend to provide it for me and family. For some reason, he always knows what to do to make me feel better, or encourage me. He cleans. He knows the sense of pride it gives me. He allows me to take all the credit. I would be nothing without my Vacum.
When Vacum died out a couple times last week (don't worry, it was just a little cold) I was there for him. I nursed him back to health with the help of some needle nose pliers. As I worked whole heartedly to get him healthy again, I thought...what would I do without him? He restores my calm with his beautiful clean lines he leaves behind. They aren't just lines of clean carpet to me. They bring the calm centered peace into my brain that everything is right with the world. Its a special bond we share. As I gently (who am I kidding, I don't do anything gently) place him back in the closet, I thank him for the therapy session we have shared. I thank him for always being there to put my life back in order when all I feel is chaos. I leave him with a mental promise to return soon. But I am sure he knows that by now.
Some people meditate, I vacum.
I realized this last week while cleaning my house. Vacuum is always there and available when I need him the most. I will refer to Vacum as male, because a vacum seems masculine in the way he barges through the house, leaving no corner with dust in his tracks. Vacum listens to my rants about how unfair it is to be me. And Vacum is also there when I am joyous about the special occasions we are preparing for. Vacum never tells me to calm down or that I am being out of line, even when I throw him around recklessly.
Vacum knows all my intimate secrets. I trust him completely. He knows my desires, and fulfills them when I am most in need. We do have a love hate relationship. I hate pulling and pushing him all around the house (twice a week sometimes more). I hate the pain in my neck and back after a good session. However, I strongly believe, as with every relationship, you need to weigh the good with the bad. I spend the most time with him than with any other friend. He hears my woes without judgement. He is up and running when I say go. And all the while, no matter what mood he may find me in, he leaves me with such a sense of accomplishment. I am left feeling grateful. Grateful for my clean carpet. Grateful I have such a great friend to provide it for me and family. For some reason, he always knows what to do to make me feel better, or encourage me. He cleans. He knows the sense of pride it gives me. He allows me to take all the credit. I would be nothing without my Vacum.
When Vacum died out a couple times last week (don't worry, it was just a little cold) I was there for him. I nursed him back to health with the help of some needle nose pliers. As I worked whole heartedly to get him healthy again, I thought...what would I do without him? He restores my calm with his beautiful clean lines he leaves behind. They aren't just lines of clean carpet to me. They bring the calm centered peace into my brain that everything is right with the world. Its a special bond we share. As I gently (who am I kidding, I don't do anything gently) place him back in the closet, I thank him for the therapy session we have shared. I thank him for always being there to put my life back in order when all I feel is chaos. I leave him with a mental promise to return soon. But I am sure he knows that by now.
Some people meditate, I vacum.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Working Mommies or Stay at Home Mommies?
OK- I love Facebook, especially when it sparks a debate. Controversy is fun to me. Last week I posted a comment, "I cant believe how much work it is to be a stay at home mom!" BOY! You all had a lot to say. So I decided to post a blog about it. Yep, today I'm going to forgo the bon-bons and Oprah, so I can let you all in on MY opinion about this touchy subject.
I am a stay at home mom. I decided to stay home when my third child was 1. I love being a home based mommy. I wouldn't change it for anything at the end of the day, BUUUUTTTTTT.... I do find myself longing for my old professional life as a Registered Nurse every once in a while. Like when everyone on our street calls for Fireman to help with a medical problem, or get advice for their sick loved one. I still know now what I knew then people! But for some reason, because I am now the "stay at home" parent without a "real job" I am no longer the go to gal! Ahhh... trade off's. As in everyones life, somedays are rewarding, and some...not so much.
I took particular notice to some of the mommies responses. A lot of you compared your situation to others, or maybe mine. Maybe you just wanted to get a good old fashion pat on the back. Maybe you feel as if you are the only one doing what you do, and no one else except for a select few could possibly understand. Bottom line is, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHAT YOUR LIFE IS LIKE...you live it. Aren't all of us mommies in the same boat really? Don't we all just want our children to have better lives than we had? Don't we all try to teach them to the best of our ability? Don't we all try to be there for every amazing moment in their lives, good or bad?
I am the only one who wakes up reluctantly, only to hurry and get the coffee and three kiddos going. I am the only one who walks around my house with a magic erasure in my back pocket for emergencies. I am the only one who battles the internal guilt over almost every single word to my children throughout the day. Did what I just say be the ONE thing they remember for the rest of their lives? Will they be in therapy one day because of what I just said? Or will they be forever ruined because of what I didn't do? No one else has lived my childhood experiences and turned into ME. But does that internal dialogue sound a little familiar? Your a liar if it doesn't, working mommy or not!
Just to indulge myself I will tell you. My mommy was the absolute best mommy. She was always there for me, she brought in cupcakes and meatballs to my classroom. When my dad and her separated, she went to work full time and though that should have been a really hard time, she made it seem less. My mommy died when I was 23 and my first born was 18 months. I was married a year- and I had just realized how much I was going to need her. The past almost 12 years without my mommy made me realize a way of life not everyone shares. This is neither good or bad...it just is.
Ask my sister in law...a very loving, involved mother of two beautiful girls. She works full time, has a very corporate job. We discuss child rearing ALL THE TIME. Why? Because we both realize we do it different and it is interesting. She is the only mother I personally know who routinely stocks and re-stocks freshly cut and diced to perfection veggies for her girls. I have never (well, not never, but you know what I mean) done that. The girls have a better balanced diet than anyone I know, including all my stay at home mommies! Her girls are the loves of her life. Is she less of a mother because she is also in the corporate world? So many heated opinions ensue over this. To me the answer is simple...she chooses what works best for her and her family. She has her own daily minute by minute struggles. Her family runs differently than mine, that is it.
I am kinda getting this vibe that us mommies feel we are better than the other mommies because they are single mommies, or have no family support, have no money, or work, or don't work, you fill in the blank. Quite frankly I have been guilty of this type of judgement before...before my second child was born, before I was a stay at home mom, before I started gaining weight with every bite of ice cream... I've learned that while I have my opinions, I am in no ones shoes but my own.
So when I didn't volunteer to be the classroom mom the second year my third child was born, I am sure there were whispers. At least the voices in my head told me there were. It went something like this; "Well she certainly CANT do it all now can she?" or "Now her son will really suffer the middle child syndrome!". All the mental mistake movies my mind plays over and over is enough to drive me to drink, and I do. Often. And maybe I wont be a size 6 forever. And maybe my kids can live a long life eating Tater Tot Casserole... Yeah, I realized, I am no where near perfection. But then again, neither is anyone else I know.
So I compromise, now I take pre-baked cupcakes instead of homemade. I use emailing the teachers instead of walking to the classroom everyday to touch base...so what? At the end of the day, I only truly care what my kids think. I ask them all the time...Do they think I am a good mom? What would they change? We have quiet intimate moments together individually that lead me to where I need to go with my babies.
If your a supermom in your kids minds...welcome to MY club! Its the only one that matters! If your not- change your life for them. Not because of what society says is politically correct. Celebrate you and friends raising diverse children from all types of dysfunctional families! After all...we made it didn't we?
Oh- and please throw your comments and opinions my way. I love em!
I am a stay at home mom. I decided to stay home when my third child was 1. I love being a home based mommy. I wouldn't change it for anything at the end of the day, BUUUUTTTTTT.... I do find myself longing for my old professional life as a Registered Nurse every once in a while. Like when everyone on our street calls for Fireman to help with a medical problem, or get advice for their sick loved one. I still know now what I knew then people! But for some reason, because I am now the "stay at home" parent without a "real job" I am no longer the go to gal! Ahhh... trade off's. As in everyones life, somedays are rewarding, and some...not so much.
I took particular notice to some of the mommies responses. A lot of you compared your situation to others, or maybe mine. Maybe you just wanted to get a good old fashion pat on the back. Maybe you feel as if you are the only one doing what you do, and no one else except for a select few could possibly understand. Bottom line is, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHAT YOUR LIFE IS LIKE...you live it. Aren't all of us mommies in the same boat really? Don't we all just want our children to have better lives than we had? Don't we all try to teach them to the best of our ability? Don't we all try to be there for every amazing moment in their lives, good or bad?
I am the only one who wakes up reluctantly, only to hurry and get the coffee and three kiddos going. I am the only one who walks around my house with a magic erasure in my back pocket for emergencies. I am the only one who battles the internal guilt over almost every single word to my children throughout the day. Did what I just say be the ONE thing they remember for the rest of their lives? Will they be in therapy one day because of what I just said? Or will they be forever ruined because of what I didn't do? No one else has lived my childhood experiences and turned into ME. But does that internal dialogue sound a little familiar? Your a liar if it doesn't, working mommy or not!
Just to indulge myself I will tell you. My mommy was the absolute best mommy. She was always there for me, she brought in cupcakes and meatballs to my classroom. When my dad and her separated, she went to work full time and though that should have been a really hard time, she made it seem less. My mommy died when I was 23 and my first born was 18 months. I was married a year- and I had just realized how much I was going to need her. The past almost 12 years without my mommy made me realize a way of life not everyone shares. This is neither good or bad...it just is.
Ask my sister in law...a very loving, involved mother of two beautiful girls. She works full time, has a very corporate job. We discuss child rearing ALL THE TIME. Why? Because we both realize we do it different and it is interesting. She is the only mother I personally know who routinely stocks and re-stocks freshly cut and diced to perfection veggies for her girls. I have never (well, not never, but you know what I mean) done that. The girls have a better balanced diet than anyone I know, including all my stay at home mommies! Her girls are the loves of her life. Is she less of a mother because she is also in the corporate world? So many heated opinions ensue over this. To me the answer is simple...she chooses what works best for her and her family. She has her own daily minute by minute struggles. Her family runs differently than mine, that is it.
I am kinda getting this vibe that us mommies feel we are better than the other mommies because they are single mommies, or have no family support, have no money, or work, or don't work, you fill in the blank. Quite frankly I have been guilty of this type of judgement before...before my second child was born, before I was a stay at home mom, before I started gaining weight with every bite of ice cream... I've learned that while I have my opinions, I am in no ones shoes but my own.
So when I didn't volunteer to be the classroom mom the second year my third child was born, I am sure there were whispers. At least the voices in my head told me there were. It went something like this; "Well she certainly CANT do it all now can she?" or "Now her son will really suffer the middle child syndrome!". All the mental mistake movies my mind plays over and over is enough to drive me to drink, and I do. Often. And maybe I wont be a size 6 forever. And maybe my kids can live a long life eating Tater Tot Casserole... Yeah, I realized, I am no where near perfection. But then again, neither is anyone else I know.
So I compromise, now I take pre-baked cupcakes instead of homemade. I use emailing the teachers instead of walking to the classroom everyday to touch base...so what? At the end of the day, I only truly care what my kids think. I ask them all the time...Do they think I am a good mom? What would they change? We have quiet intimate moments together individually that lead me to where I need to go with my babies.
If your a supermom in your kids minds...welcome to MY club! Its the only one that matters! If your not- change your life for them. Not because of what society says is politically correct. Celebrate you and friends raising diverse children from all types of dysfunctional families! After all...we made it didn't we?
Oh- and please throw your comments and opinions my way. I love em!
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Day I Realized I Fit In Perfectly at Walmart
So Christmas this year is on a budget, or so I am telling myself. Fireman isn't bringing in the trusty overtime, but we always save throughout the year for the Christmas event. When the time comes to start spending, it doesn't matter what the budget is for the year, I am a frugal bargain shopper. I find a peculiar high in finding sales on already reduced merchandise. This is absolutely my favorite time of the year.
That said, I always no matter how hard I try to stay out of the Walmart, end up there for one reason or another. Now, I am no Walmart hater. I just prefer to steer clear of the relentless crowds, lines, and picked over items whenever possible. I don't care if sippy cups are $2 cheaper at Walmart than Target. Target is more my idea of thrifty shopping. It has cute jewelry, cute PJ's, fun stylish T-shirts for the sweat pants I wear everyday, etc...oh, and its void of the population who choose to look homeless when they are not. You all know exactly what I am referring to. There is a web site dedicated specifically for the purpose of exposing fashion and social no-no's on an hourly basis at Walmart. Now, these things happen everywhere we go, but for some reason you can count on it at Walmart, every minute of every day. It is just downright awkward sometimes.
Last week, in a valiant effort to finish my stocking stuffers, I went to the Walmart. I prepared my mind for what kind of crowds I would ride in on. I mentally accepted being pushed around by holiday shoppers all in the same isle I needed to be in, parking in the very back. I was perfectly OK with this scenario. It is Christmas after all.
To my surprise, I landed a wonderful parking spot without any problem. I smiled to myself as I strolled into the Walmart with my 4 year old in tow. I was feeling so confident, I didn't even force my daughter to sit in the shopping cart. I had a return to make, so the friendly little lady greeting me at the front door carefully stamped my items and I proceeded to the line of people waiting to do exactly the same.
It occurred to me suddenly that everyone in line looked, dare I say, normal? The only distraction was my 4 year old who would not stop pounding on the open computer kiosk next to us. I just pretended I didn't know who she was for a while. As I surveyed, people watched if you will, it hit me. I am the one this time in sweat pants I have worn two days in a row. My red hair is up on my head in a sloppy clip that doesn't match. There is no make up on my face, though I desperately need it. MY kid is the one running a muck. A women a couple people back is staring at ME!
I chuckled to myself. I kept ignoring my daughter who was by now climbing the wheelchairs next to the kiosk in her high heel dress up shoes. I continued waiting in the return line. I think I maybe shuffled my hair around and threw some lip gloss on. That's what the wheelchairs are for, I figured, and what a nice relief to not have to get out of your pajamas when you go shopping for once! These people surrounding me became my friends. I instantly knew they all had stories of why they are at the Walmart looking the way they do...and basically our common thread in humanity when it comes to the Walmart is; Who Cares????
Walmart is where all the highly educated and rich people go on an off day! It all makes sense now! You can let your hair down and be yourself while shopping up the deals! So you wake up in your mansion and just want some eggos- by pass all the grocery stores that require you to change out of your slippers and stop by the Walmart. You are always greeted warmly and I dont believe anyone would ever turn your business away based on what you choose or choose not to look like on any given day!
I relaxed and almost enjoyed watching my daughter, who I now realized looked as hairied as I did, dance around the carts and wheelchairs. Our return time came, and I found myself just happy to be comfortable. The six and a half inch multi colored nails on the older women checking my return didnt even faze me!
That said, I always no matter how hard I try to stay out of the Walmart, end up there for one reason or another. Now, I am no Walmart hater. I just prefer to steer clear of the relentless crowds, lines, and picked over items whenever possible. I don't care if sippy cups are $2 cheaper at Walmart than Target. Target is more my idea of thrifty shopping. It has cute jewelry, cute PJ's, fun stylish T-shirts for the sweat pants I wear everyday, etc...oh, and its void of the population who choose to look homeless when they are not. You all know exactly what I am referring to. There is a web site dedicated specifically for the purpose of exposing fashion and social no-no's on an hourly basis at Walmart. Now, these things happen everywhere we go, but for some reason you can count on it at Walmart, every minute of every day. It is just downright awkward sometimes.
Last week, in a valiant effort to finish my stocking stuffers, I went to the Walmart. I prepared my mind for what kind of crowds I would ride in on. I mentally accepted being pushed around by holiday shoppers all in the same isle I needed to be in, parking in the very back. I was perfectly OK with this scenario. It is Christmas after all.
To my surprise, I landed a wonderful parking spot without any problem. I smiled to myself as I strolled into the Walmart with my 4 year old in tow. I was feeling so confident, I didn't even force my daughter to sit in the shopping cart. I had a return to make, so the friendly little lady greeting me at the front door carefully stamped my items and I proceeded to the line of people waiting to do exactly the same.
It occurred to me suddenly that everyone in line looked, dare I say, normal? The only distraction was my 4 year old who would not stop pounding on the open computer kiosk next to us. I just pretended I didn't know who she was for a while. As I surveyed, people watched if you will, it hit me. I am the one this time in sweat pants I have worn two days in a row. My red hair is up on my head in a sloppy clip that doesn't match. There is no make up on my face, though I desperately need it. MY kid is the one running a muck. A women a couple people back is staring at ME!
I chuckled to myself. I kept ignoring my daughter who was by now climbing the wheelchairs next to the kiosk in her high heel dress up shoes. I continued waiting in the return line. I think I maybe shuffled my hair around and threw some lip gloss on. That's what the wheelchairs are for, I figured, and what a nice relief to not have to get out of your pajamas when you go shopping for once! These people surrounding me became my friends. I instantly knew they all had stories of why they are at the Walmart looking the way they do...and basically our common thread in humanity when it comes to the Walmart is; Who Cares????
Walmart is where all the highly educated and rich people go on an off day! It all makes sense now! You can let your hair down and be yourself while shopping up the deals! So you wake up in your mansion and just want some eggos- by pass all the grocery stores that require you to change out of your slippers and stop by the Walmart. You are always greeted warmly and I dont believe anyone would ever turn your business away based on what you choose or choose not to look like on any given day!
I relaxed and almost enjoyed watching my daughter, who I now realized looked as hairied as I did, dance around the carts and wheelchairs. Our return time came, and I found myself just happy to be comfortable. The six and a half inch multi colored nails on the older women checking my return didnt even faze me!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The Gym
Everyone who knows me even a little knows I make working out a priority in my life. Some might even go as far to say I have had moments in my life where I can take my love of the adrenaline high too far.
Like the time three years ago after I had spent 4 days in the hospital for Meningitis, I was back on the elyptical the day after returning home. Or the time(s) I have dropped my sniffling children off at the Gym's babysitting club praying their colds would go unnoticed. All in the sake of a workout.
Working out, expending the energy out of my body is something I crave. Daily. Well almost daily.
When Fireman is working his normal 24 hour schedule and we are all in the groove of school and such, I am at the gym at least 4 times a week, or out in my garage boxing my hanging bag. I have a routine that fits into my life and into everyone elses life (as far as I am concerned). Anytime that rountine gets even slightly knocked off its wheel, we all suffer- some more than others, ask Fireman.
So when the kids get sick and need mommy with them at home all day, or say for example on our way to the car in the morning the kids find a trail of ants leading all the way to my cupboards filled with Martha Stewart's finest baking goodies... I usually end up reluctantly taking the day off from the gym.
Not such a big deal, a day off here or there right? Wrong! I find myself crowding my already refined routine with little incidental projects, like cleaning out drawers or photo boxes. Sometimes I even start a new hobby. One day easily slips into three days to even a week!
So we've been off schedule a bit overhere. Fireman is still home. Though we all our finding our way (slowly) life has come between me and my beloved punching bag. Now, Fireman knows what our routine is here at home. He is very much aware of all the time I take to strategicly plan my weeks events including my gym time. He is also aware of his role in our lives. Usually.
One morning after coffee, I looked over my list for the day. I decided in my head today would be an "off" day for the gym. It must have alarmed Fireman greatly when he looked back over his shoulder from the computer to see me dressed in clothes and not strech pants and a tank top because he uttered words that make my hair and skin do really weird things.
"So no gym for you today?" this was delivered with no eye contact whatsoever.
Seriously?
Within about 45 seconds my mind had raced over all the possible responses ranging from," Why? Do you think I need to go to the gym today?" to "Well, no I decided that since I am adding taking the dog to the vet to my already busy day of grocery shopping, laundry, dinner prep, dropping overdue books off at the library, and picking up a gift before 1:00pm with a four year old on my coat tails that maybe today I could take the day off!" All followed with a look that delivered my message fairly well.
I decided on, "No." Also with no eye contact.
Although his remark, and he makes this remark often, almost always sends me into a crazed thought pattern for most of the day, I decided to drop it. I have told him on my verbal crazed- head days NOT to ask me about the gym, and it's not registering for some reason. I have explained to Fireman why he shouldn't say or imply his stance on my workouts. It is, to me, just like him saying ever so gently that my butt better find a way around everything I have thought to be the priority over my workout and make it happen some way, any way.
This comment has been known to lead me into long bouts of self doubt. Doubting my structure, doubting my ability to plan, doubting my committment. You name it, I can end up finding a way to doubt myself with this one small seemingly benign comment.
All within 45 seconds, I had decided to keep my power for the day and go on as planned. I pushed the comment out of my brain...I decided I was too busy to give it anymore thought. I was even too busy to let Fireman know exactly where he could put the gym.
Those 45 seconds was the best time I had spent that particular day, even if it wasn't in the schedule.
Like the time three years ago after I had spent 4 days in the hospital for Meningitis, I was back on the elyptical the day after returning home. Or the time(s) I have dropped my sniffling children off at the Gym's babysitting club praying their colds would go unnoticed. All in the sake of a workout.
Working out, expending the energy out of my body is something I crave. Daily. Well almost daily.
When Fireman is working his normal 24 hour schedule and we are all in the groove of school and such, I am at the gym at least 4 times a week, or out in my garage boxing my hanging bag. I have a routine that fits into my life and into everyone elses life (as far as I am concerned). Anytime that rountine gets even slightly knocked off its wheel, we all suffer- some more than others, ask Fireman.
So when the kids get sick and need mommy with them at home all day, or say for example on our way to the car in the morning the kids find a trail of ants leading all the way to my cupboards filled with Martha Stewart's finest baking goodies... I usually end up reluctantly taking the day off from the gym.
Not such a big deal, a day off here or there right? Wrong! I find myself crowding my already refined routine with little incidental projects, like cleaning out drawers or photo boxes. Sometimes I even start a new hobby. One day easily slips into three days to even a week!
So we've been off schedule a bit overhere. Fireman is still home. Though we all our finding our way (slowly) life has come between me and my beloved punching bag. Now, Fireman knows what our routine is here at home. He is very much aware of all the time I take to strategicly plan my weeks events including my gym time. He is also aware of his role in our lives. Usually.
One morning after coffee, I looked over my list for the day. I decided in my head today would be an "off" day for the gym. It must have alarmed Fireman greatly when he looked back over his shoulder from the computer to see me dressed in clothes and not strech pants and a tank top because he uttered words that make my hair and skin do really weird things.
"So no gym for you today?" this was delivered with no eye contact whatsoever.
Seriously?
Within about 45 seconds my mind had raced over all the possible responses ranging from," Why? Do you think I need to go to the gym today?" to "Well, no I decided that since I am adding taking the dog to the vet to my already busy day of grocery shopping, laundry, dinner prep, dropping overdue books off at the library, and picking up a gift before 1:00pm with a four year old on my coat tails that maybe today I could take the day off!" All followed with a look that delivered my message fairly well.
I decided on, "No." Also with no eye contact.
Although his remark, and he makes this remark often, almost always sends me into a crazed thought pattern for most of the day, I decided to drop it. I have told him on my verbal crazed- head days NOT to ask me about the gym, and it's not registering for some reason. I have explained to Fireman why he shouldn't say or imply his stance on my workouts. It is, to me, just like him saying ever so gently that my butt better find a way around everything I have thought to be the priority over my workout and make it happen some way, any way.
This comment has been known to lead me into long bouts of self doubt. Doubting my structure, doubting my ability to plan, doubting my committment. You name it, I can end up finding a way to doubt myself with this one small seemingly benign comment.
All within 45 seconds, I had decided to keep my power for the day and go on as planned. I pushed the comment out of my brain...I decided I was too busy to give it anymore thought. I was even too busy to let Fireman know exactly where he could put the gym.
Those 45 seconds was the best time I had spent that particular day, even if it wasn't in the schedule.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Mommy's Kitchen
Well, I decided to try and earn that silly Mom of the Year award and cook a really delicious dinner. Quite a feat in this house filled with Costco frozen meals. It's officially time for Martha Stewart to show her face in my house...she has been on a very long vacation, just ask Fireman!
I was turned onto a recipe blog called Mommy's Kitchen...the meals are easy and kid friendly, well my kid friendly! I got sooo excited after trying out a couple of different recipes, I choose to venture out and try something requiring a little more brain power. So while Fireman took the kids pumpkin shopping, I gathered my ingredients, donned the $75 apron, and did not open the bottle of wine. I needed all my brain for this one.
I had some red potatoes that about to go bad, so why not peel and mash em up? Everything was off to a great start...potatoes boiling, onion caramelizing, and chicken browning... Even Fireman was impressed (well, he is always impressed when I actually cook) While he helped the kids carve their pumpkins, I worked steadily on preparing a meal close to Thanksgiving good. I opened my bottle of wine and savored my glass of white...piece of cake!
Then it happened. The final step called for broiling the chicken dish for a mere 5 minutes to crisp up the bacon I had so carefully placed a top halved chicken breast basted with a Merlot sauce and caramelized onions...why were the bacon pieces not crisping? Oh well, I'll add a couple more minutes to the timer. I called the kids in to wash their hands and set the table, dinner had to be just a few minutes away. Still the bacon was looking nothing like the final picture. I downed the glass of wine.
I said out loud, "why is this not cooking? Is there another setting besides broil I am missing?" Fireman, seeing his cue and seizing the moment came over to the oven and peeked in. He quietly picked up the recipe. I poured my second glass of wine. "Well doesn't it say broil? Here is the broiler honey..." He opened this magical little door placed purposely on my oven to confuse me. All this time I thought it was storage! I mean that's what my mom used it for...the traditonary storage drawer for the oven safe dishes you never use. I removed the dish from the oven and quietly placed it in the secret oven. The Broiler.
Not a word was exchanged until Fireman saw my second glass of wine was finished, and everyone had raved over my cooking. And even then it was really quite funny. I mean I can not believe I didn't know the drawer was the actual broiler!
Laugh all you want, I know some of you don't know what that drawer is either and to top it off, I know you store your dishes there too! My mom wasn't the only one... at least it makes me feel better to think that!
I was turned onto a recipe blog called Mommy's Kitchen...the meals are easy and kid friendly, well my kid friendly! I got sooo excited after trying out a couple of different recipes, I choose to venture out and try something requiring a little more brain power. So while Fireman took the kids pumpkin shopping, I gathered my ingredients, donned the $75 apron, and did not open the bottle of wine. I needed all my brain for this one.
I had some red potatoes that about to go bad, so why not peel and mash em up? Everything was off to a great start...potatoes boiling, onion caramelizing, and chicken browning... Even Fireman was impressed (well, he is always impressed when I actually cook) While he helped the kids carve their pumpkins, I worked steadily on preparing a meal close to Thanksgiving good. I opened my bottle of wine and savored my glass of white...piece of cake!
Then it happened. The final step called for broiling the chicken dish for a mere 5 minutes to crisp up the bacon I had so carefully placed a top halved chicken breast basted with a Merlot sauce and caramelized onions...why were the bacon pieces not crisping? Oh well, I'll add a couple more minutes to the timer. I called the kids in to wash their hands and set the table, dinner had to be just a few minutes away. Still the bacon was looking nothing like the final picture. I downed the glass of wine.
I said out loud, "why is this not cooking? Is there another setting besides broil I am missing?" Fireman, seeing his cue and seizing the moment came over to the oven and peeked in. He quietly picked up the recipe. I poured my second glass of wine. "Well doesn't it say broil? Here is the broiler honey..." He opened this magical little door placed purposely on my oven to confuse me. All this time I thought it was storage! I mean that's what my mom used it for...the traditonary storage drawer for the oven safe dishes you never use. I removed the dish from the oven and quietly placed it in the secret oven. The Broiler.
Not a word was exchanged until Fireman saw my second glass of wine was finished, and everyone had raved over my cooking. And even then it was really quite funny. I mean I can not believe I didn't know the drawer was the actual broiler!
Laugh all you want, I know some of you don't know what that drawer is either and to top it off, I know you store your dishes there too! My mom wasn't the only one... at least it makes me feel better to think that!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
