August 21, 2017

Please tell me your children are wild ...

Okay, just tell me what I need to hear.
Tell me that your kids are absolute loons.
Tell me that nobody listens to you the first six times you tell them to do something.
Tell me that you still get called up every night an hour after bedtime for ridiculous things like, "I heard a noise that sounded like a car" or "I dropped my bookmark."
That they scream both gleefully and frighteningly for the majority of your day.
That you're never quite sure if someone has broken a bone or snatched a toy based on each scream.
Please tell me that your child wears a very hot and uncomfortable gown to bed even after the ninety-seventh time you've explained that it's the very reason why she's sweaty every night.
Tell me that she refuses to believe you but begs to have her hair put up, her fan turned higher and her cool mist humidifier blowing directly at her head.
Tell me that no matter what cup you give your two and a half year old they choose to drop it on the floor, stuff food into its straw and figure out how to shake water from it at every single meal time.
Tell me they also take mouthfuls of said water and spit it into their dish repeatedly.
That your almost six year old child has started stomping when she doesn't get her way. Stomping. Like that classic image of a spoiled brat we've all come to know and loathe.
That she's also started a new form of whining that is ten thousand percent unacceptable.
That you were certain your second child would potty train early and now you realize that she's been using the toilet seventy percent of the time for eight months with no further signs of readiness and that it's most likely your fault because you simply haven't put enough effort into it.
Tell me that watching your child play with others is sometimes excruciating.
That you constantly sit back and think, Didn't I teach her better than that?
That you always thought you could control all of those things when you became a parent one day. That you now realize you can't.
That you have vodka.

Seas can be a bit stormy sometimes. We go through intermittent swells of horror that dissipate into lulls of wonderfulness. The next time the little ones are pissing each other off I have to reach back in my memory for the image of what their faces looked like when they rode their favorite ride together at the fair last week. Because that minute was one of the best minutes I've ever experienced as a parent. Total joy. And joy is something we strive to find daily when really it should be the biggest part of our day every day.

So for all of the crazy, unpleasant moments that seem to multiply and sometimes never end - I wish you more joy-filled moments. Ones that you can brand into your memory to pull out when you are just a millisecond away from losing your shit. Again.

August 6, 2017

Summer ... how times have changed

August, huh? The summer days are just flying on by, aren't they? I can't say I'm sad about it. I'm not a big fan. My days of peaceful beach outings are gone. My solo trips to the Beavertail cliffs with a towel, iPod and water bottle are a distant memory. Now a day at the shore requires a full staff just to carry the gear and another to tackle the kids. I might sit down just long enough to get shit on by a seagull. MIGHT.

But I am enjoying certain elements of the summer. I keep reminding Scarlett of the importance of lazy mornings. Come September it's full time school for thirteen years. Oh, to think of the crusts I'll be cutting off. I've made my school supplies lists and plan to finish that sooner than later. I don't want to be throwing punches over an eight pack of crayons while someone rips the Ticonderogas out of my cart. I'm not one to shop in a crowd. Or to do much else in a crowd for that matter... I need my space. We went to Mystic Aquarium last week and I shuddered as I was touched by every elbow, diaper bag and plush squid. A Pearl Jam concert is pretty much the only acceptable crowd I'll be found in. I'll take a few drunkards scream-singing Rearviewmirror over a family of ten rushing the sting ray tank any day.

My kids are driving me frigging crazy though. I'm finally at that point where I "get it". The glee that moms feel when the initial back-to-school ads are shown in like July. The parents cheering as the first day of school arrives, shoving their kid down the front steps, chucking their lunch bag through the bus window. I never understood it before and always kinda felt like it was harsh but now having gone through a collection of days where I literally yell for what feels like sixty seven hours straight I get it. When I look back on the former me I can't remember yelling more than a handful of times in my life. Aside from fights with my parents as a rude, inconsiderate teen - I don't think I ever yelled. I mean, what the hell would I yell about? If the post office was out of Charlie Brown stamps and I got stuck with the holiday birds? If my neighbor was blasting his shit music in the driveway for hours? If I was stuck in traffic on a bridge for two hours on a Friday evening? Nope. Not yelling over any of that jazz. Now? I steady yell. In fact, I think my regular speaking voice is actually a half yell now. My eyebrows are now stuck in permanent stern-face position. I begin yelling before 7:30 am. It doesn't end until 9 pm some days. It's exhausting being continuously pissed off. There are glorious moments in between where the girls are getting along nicely and actually playing together without bloodshed or when Daisy finally takes a good nap. When Scarlett is helpful and doesn't fight me on every single thing I tell her to do. Those moments are fleeting though. And my boiling point is quickly reached over and over again. It always works best if I separate the girls. They can be excellent when unhindered. Scarlett is too used to getting things her own way and Daisy is just trying to be two. The mix can be devastating. I force them together as much as possible to try to crack the code but sometimes it's best if I just put them in solitary.

I look back on my summer vacations as a child and realize those were truly some of the best times of my life. Playing outside with friends from sunup to sundown. Eight hour days at the beach. Pool swimming followed by lazy cartoon-filled afternoons. Ahhhh... to be a kid again.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go rip a crocodile game out of my kid's hands.

July 24, 2017

My lunacy and my wellness...

It is no secret to those who know me that I have never really been very comfortable in my own skin. I've gone through many, many stages in my life - much like everyone else - but that one thing has always been a constant. Be it among a group of close friends or a group of total strangers it seems I'm forever agonizing over something in my mind while holding a conversation...

Is this shirt clinging to my rolls? Can you see the bra bulge from this angle? Should I sit instead of stand? Can they see my eyebrows sweating or is that just for me to enjoy? My skin looks dry, I should've used a different lotion. Do I take my sunglasses off to seem more approachable? Why do I stand with my arms crossed?! Such a bully pose! Skinny jeans with these thighs - who do I think I am? Can I wear boots in May, is that weird? Why do I buy so many sleeveless tops? I shouldn't even be wearing them with these arms. I have carried the same bag for a solid year, people must think ... 

Stop right there. People must think... People must think WHAT??

I am a lunatic in my mind. Sometimes the lunacy comes out of my mouth but believe it or not I keep it to myself about 92% of the time. When I actually stop to think about what I'm obsessing/worrying about I quickly realize that NOBODY is thinking about any of this shit. Nobody is looking at my skin's moisture level. Not a single soul has noticed that I've carried the same bag for more than twelve months. No one cares a lick if I wear sunglasses or not. Granted, there may be people that have noticed my thick thighs, my un-toned arms and my springtime footwear choice BUT I am quite certain that after their glance they moved on with their life.


I have been this way since I was about nine. That is SUCH a long time to feel like crap about yourself. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I feel ugly and heinous all the time. I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT. I have moments where I feel comfortable/satisfactory. It is important to feel good in what I'm wearing - if I can do that then my day is pretty easy. If I stray and try to wear something that isn't "me" that's where I get into trouble. I think some of that junk stems from my watching episodes of What Not To Wear. I realize that most of what I choose to wear is a no-no. But ya know what? I'm a jeans and t-shirt kinda girl. Put me in a blouse and I want to light shit on fire. I can't conform. I don't want a sensible pant suit. I look like a dumpy snowman in sweaters, I prefer a sweatshirt. I own exactly one pair of "pants" and I've never worn them. I'm pretty sure I can get through the rest of my life wearing what I want rather than what style experts recommend for my "type."

I lost forty pound about two years ago and I still wear oversized clothing. I think that's just so deeply rooted in me but I am working on moving forward. Moving out of my comfort zone is done at a baby snail's pace for certain. I want so badly for my outer appearance to reflect how fit and healthy I finally feel/AM. I'll admit that still looking "out of shape" makes me feel unhappy. I've worked hard but I know I have to work harder. I've recently started a new workout schedule and so far it's a winner. Seeing and feeling results right away makes it so much easier to keep putting in that work. I've continued my clean eating lifestyle for nearly two years now. {Confession: I am addicted to gluten free pretzels but hey, we all have our vices. Wink.}

I'm a work in progress but I can tell you that I've never felt as good as I do now. I'm forty. I WISH I felt this way at fifteen. Or twenty-five. Or thirty-two. It's all about your mindset. When you are truly ready to make that change you go hard. If any of you are feeling stuck in a rut, out of shape, out of breath, out of energy, out of options - please message me and I will let you know how you can take steps to change that. My girl, Joanna aka GetRealGal, can and will help you. I promise you it is easier than you think to make these changes. You start small and you win big. Working on your wellness is always worth it.