"We're all just fragile threads, but what a tapestry we make." – Jerry Ellis

Let the Next Chapter Begin

06 30 15
Tyler (right) and one of his good friends at the Graduation ceremony.

Tyler (right) and one of his good friends, Jeff, at the Graduation ceremony.

At the end of May, Tyler graduated from high school and we celebrated with a party a few weekends ago.  Thankfully, after a week of continuous rain, we dodged a bullet and had a dry day for it.  We needed to put down a couple of bales of straw purchased at the last minute so the backyard volleyball court didn’t turn into mud volleyball.  Other than being the typical Midwest hot and humid, it was a great day for an outside party.

This past weekend, we visited his college campus for Freshman First Day; a day to meet Academic advisors, finalize schedules and explore campus.  As we settled in at the hotel the night before, I realized that it was at Freshman Orientation at the University of Missouri that Darrell and I first met almost 26 years ago.  I tried to remember what my parents had been like back then, but honestly I couldn’t remember very much other than they came with me.  The main thing I remember from that day was the reality that I was going to have a heavy course load that first semester and I thought that blonde guy who sat next to me at the Orientation was really cute.  I had a boyfriend from high school at the time, and had no idea that cute boy would eventually become my husband. (Let me tell ya about it sometime—it’s a great story.)

I’m not sure why it came as a surprise to me when I was reminded that our firstborn is the same age that we were when we met.  With everything going on these days, I hadn’t had time to process that our little boy was on the brink of adulthood.  Yes, the kid who can’t keep track of where his car keys and shoes are most of the time is moving four hours away where he will be in charge of himself completely.  While I know that we will miss him doing Tyler-esque things like walking around the house, strumming his guitar and bugging his sisters with impromptu songs about whatever it is they’re doing, I can’t help but be excited for him as he starts this new chapter in life.  Where he has trepidation about making all the right decisions, I see nothing but a blank slate of potential.  I’m not so old that I don’t remember the uncertainty of being 18, but I wish he knew that when it’s all said and done, he’ll look back at this time and wish he’d savored it more instead of wishing it away to be an adult in the working world.

When you’re 18, your family, high school and the people you’ve been in school with over the past few years are truly your realm of experience.  For many, college is the first point in life where you step into your own.  It’s a time for learning more about yourself and how you fit into this big, wide world.  You meet people with personalities and ideas that you may have never been exposed to before.  It can be a little intimidating, but ultimately shapes you into the person you were meant to be.

I am convinced that the timing for a child’s (ahem, I mean young adult’s) departure for college correlates perfectly with his parents’ patience (aka tolerance) level for having another almost-adult present in the home.  Little things Tyler does, like leaving shoes all over the kitchen—nothing new—seem to get under my skin a little more than they used to.  I think it goes both ways, because I feel like Tyler gets annoyed with us about things, too.  In these waning days before he heads off to school across the state, I look at my son with a little more tenderness.  I overlook the empty Pop Tart wrappers he leaves around the house and grumble a little less when he forgets to put his dishes in the dishwasher.  (I said a LITTLE!)  I find myself giving in a little more often when he asks if we can do breakfast for dinner.

At the heart of it all, I’m proud of all he’s accomplished, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for him.

The happy graduate with me and his dad, that cute blonde boy from Freshman Orientation all those years ago.

The happy graduate with me and his dad, that cute blonde boy from Freshman Orientation all those years ago.

Category:

adulthood, college, family, growing up, kids growing up

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Life is Better When I’m Dirty

06 26 15
Life's a garden--dig it! - Joe Dirt

Life’s a garden–dig it! – Joe Dirt

I glance at the reflection in the mirror and frown.   Hair escaping its ponytail—and not in the good way like it does in the movies—smeared eyeliner under the eyes from my earlier make up and a sweaty smudge of dirt across my cheek.  The woman in the mirror looking back at me looks old and tired.

The world has its natural beauties—those fortunate women who can get by with a touch of mascara and lip gloss.  And then there are women like me, a pretty outfit and an hour with some make up and styling tools and we can really glam it up when the occasion calls for it.

When it’s early in the morning and I’m going for a run or the gym, I’m lucky to even have on matching shoes if I don’t set them out the night before.  Of course it’s not until I get there (and of course the gym is full of wall to wall mirrors) that I see the extent of my messy appearance.  It’s not that I’m vain—it’s just a little disappointing when I realize I really do look my age and can’t pull off the I-didn’t-even-try-but-look-at-me look.

I’ll blame the movies and television for these high expectations of looking good no matter what the circumstances.  Remember Helen Hunt in the movie Twister?  They were in pounding rain storms and high winds—a tornado even—and she still had a clean white tank top on with her hair only mildly tousled.  Or in television shows when someone wakes up in the morning and they still have flawless skin, bright, lash-fringed eyes and only a stray hair out of place for effect.  No eye boogers or drool tracks at all unless they are supposed to be rousing from an all-night drinking session.  Ah, the willing suspension of disbelief we give to Hollywood!  Do you imagine the farmer’s daughter milking a cow at 4 in the morning completed her chores with her hair neatly braided?  Me neither.

I contemplate the notion of my aging appearance as I finish up the row I am digging out in the garden.  And later while I’m scrubbing the floor of the bathtub.  I’ve spent a lot of money these past few years on magic potions and creams to hide the sun damage spots on my cheeks and to prevent wrinkles.  But as much as I love getting dressed up and playing with make up, once I’ve gotten my hair and make up done and put on something nice, looking at me is about all I’m good for.

The truth is, life is better when I’m dirty.  When I haven’t taken the time to do hair and make up and put on halfway decent looking clothes, I don’t mind breaking a sweat or getting up to my elbows scrubbing toilet bowls.  Because when I’m streaked with dirt and grime, I’m not trying to please anyone.  Although it may involve cleaning or another chore I don’t particularly enjoy doing, the end result makes me happy—a well-kept yard, a clean house or a stronger body.  When I do put on that dress and spend an hour primping in the mirror, that person is a happy one from the inside out.

Standing back to admire my work, I catch a glimpse at the reflection in the window I’ve just cleaned. Sweat prominently streaks through the foundation I put on for work earlier and my shirt is covered in grime and dirt.  I take one more swipe at a missed smudge on the glass and smile.

Category:

Advice, aging, balance, beauty, gardening, home

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Happy Golden Anniversary

06 05 15
Mom and Dad cutting their wedding cake, June 5, 1965

Mom and Dad cutting their wedding cake, June 5, 1965

Today, June 5th, my parents are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary.  In honor of the occasion, last Sunday we had a dinner reception for them with their friends and family.  The event truly turned out better than I could have imagined, even if we were a little concerned in the beginning because Mom was having a rough health day.  The following is some thoughts I shared at their party.

There once was a girl named Joanne.  She worked at First National Bank with a few friends who liked to go cruising when they weren’t working.  One of those friends, Diane, thought it’d be a good idea to set Joanne up with a friend of hers named Paul.  Diane and her boyfriend, Del, knew Paul from high school.

The day after Valentine’s Day, February 15, 1964, they went to the movies to see Love with the Proper Stranger.  Joanne thought Paul was tall, and later would describe him as “sweet”.  Paul knew right away he wanted to get to know her better.  Of course, they ended up having many more dates over the next several months, fell in love and decided to get married.  A June wedding was planned for the following year.

One of my favorite stories from when they first began dating sprung from tragedy.  My grandpa had a pretty serious accident at work that landed him in the hospital for several weeks.  This happened April 1st; so they’d not even been dating for two months at that time.  They’d stopped by the hospital before going out on a planned dinner date.  As they headed out, Dad, being the gentleman he is, told her, “I’m not trying to be a cheapskate, but I know your heart is back there with your Dad.”  They spent their “date” in the hospital with Grandpa.  By the way, he wasn’t Grandpa back then, it’s just hard not to think of my mother’s father as anyone but Grandpa.

I tell you this story for two reasons.  First, I love hearing stories of how couples met one another.  And second, I think it speaks to what has characterized their relationship these past fifty years—a love of, and devotion to, family.

Although I haven’t been around the entire 50 years of their marriage, I’ve learned a few things about marriage, relationships, family and life in general over the years from my parents.  Some notable things include:

  1. The first anniversary is celebrated as the paper anniversary. A toilet plunger does not make for a good anniversary present.  Even if it’s not presented as an actual gift, possibly even in jest, the offering of spending the last of the household money for the week on such a necessity that close to your wedding anniversary is sure to be a bad idea.
  2. Dogs that have middle names like “Skyrocket” can be temperamental. Scamp Skyrocket, though lovable to us, his own little pack at home, didn’t find it necessary to share the love with neighborhood children who played tag with us kids in the yard.  Or just about anybody who visited the house in the first five minutes of their visit.  Unless they had Milkbones or were Grandpa and Grandma.  So think twice before you give your dog a middle name.
  3. Hobbies are good for your soul and help keep you young. Growing up in a home where artistry was admired and encouraged made me an appreciator of many creative outlets.  Mom had her dolls, both the porcelain ones she painted and put together and the ones she crafted with cloth bodies and embroidered faces.  Dad had his model railroad trains and their layouts, complete with buildings he hand-designed and built from balsam wood.  What kid couldn’t have fun with that?  Mom would take us to ceramic studios and let us get messy with paint and art projects at home.  We also visited the book store almost every Friday night while Dad went to his Model Railroad Club meetings at Mark Twain Hobby.  I learned to love books, reading and scratch and sniff stickers at the old Bookmark Bookstore.  Mom and Dad taught me that creative people never get bored.
  4. Just because you were once athletic and a wrestler doesn’t mean your teenage son won’t be able to outrun you at some point. Although the offense has long been forgotten, the shocked look on Kevin’s face when he realized he had to kick it into high gear to outrun Dad is hard to forget.  Neither is Dad’s answer when he had to concede to losing the chase after Kevin made a hard jog to the right and was able to get just out of reach.  His words:  “He has to come home some time.”
  5. Scooch over and let your kids snuggle up with you when they get scared in the middle of the night. You may get an elbow or a foot in the face, but the security it gives them growing up knowing that you are always there for them, even during the night, outweighs the back pain you may have the next day by a landslide.  And if you don’t tell your friends or family about your thunderstorm-fearing child the next day (or at least don’t get caught by said child!), you get bonus points.
  6. Dishwashing liquid is not the same as dishwasher soap and thus are NOT interchangeable. If you put dishwashing liquid into your dishwasher, you will get more bubbles in the kitchen than one kitchen floor should be exposed to in its lifetime.  And it takes a lot of effort to get those bubbles all cleaned up.  They spew out of the dishwasher like lava from a volcano.  And though it’s soap, it’s still very messy.  Remember that for some things there are no substitutions.
  7. A good way to size up your friends is to see how they act around your parents and siblings. This I didn’t believe until I had my own kids.  Just like Mom said, I can always tell what kind of person my kids’ friends are by if they acknowledge me as a real, live human being in the house.  Sorry I ever doubted you, Mom.
  8. There’s always a place to meet in the middle. Dad is six foot three.  Mom is…not.  Before such luxuries as tilt steering wheels and power seats, drivers who had such a difference in height had to improvise, so Mom had a denim, blue-jean looking pillow she would sit on so she could see over the steering wheel and still reach the pedals of our ’75 Ford Torino.  It just goes to show that it’s not necessarily compromise that makes a situation work, sometimes it’s adaptability.
  9. After your husband’s had a long day at work, when he’s tired and hungry, is not the best time to show him all the bargains you picked up when you were shopping that day. Even if it’s the cutest thing ever and was on sale for an unbelievably low, low price.  Let him come in, sit back in the recliner and get some food in his belly.  THEN you can show him what you bought.  Note that this is also the optimum time to show him any damage to the car that may have occurred and Kevin’s report card.
  10. I’ve learned that to stay together 50 years, you need to be patient, forgiving, and learn to live with what you may see as some of your spouse’s faults. You have to realize that there are highs and lows in life, but you always have each other to lean on–just being there for that other person—sometimes as a sounding board, sometimes to tell the painful truth and sometimes just to laugh at an inside joke the two of you share.  Always remember to love, even during the times when you don’t actually like the person at the moment.  It’s okay to agree to disagree.

So, Mom and Dad, thank you for teaching me to cherish family, to nurture my faith and that it’s okay to do things my own way.  I am blessed to be your daughter.  Happy Anniversary!  I love you.

50 years later, Mom and Dad re-enacting the cake cutting at their anniversary party

50 years later, Mom and Dad re-enacting the cake cutting at their anniversary party

Our family today with a few more pounds and wrinkles. From left to right, my brother, Kevin, Dad, Mom, me and my husband, Darrell

Our family today with a few more pounds and wrinkles. From left to right, my brother, Kevin, Dad, Mom, me and my husband, Darrell

Category:

family

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2015 RT Convention: A Newbie’s Perspective

06 02 15

Two weeks ago I attended the 2015 RT Booklovers Convention in Dallas, Texas, with my fellow book-loving cousin and aspiring author, Kim.  Neither one of us had attended an event like this before, so part of the fun was not having any expectations of what it would be like.  In fact, the only thing we really knew was to bring along an extra suitcase for all the books we’d be bringing home.  I registered for the conference as a blogger, although I think the types of blogs they had in mind for that type of attendee were those that specialized in book reviews.  Rookie mistake.

The Blogger listing page in the RT Convention program

The Blogger listing page in the RT Convention program

The “RT” stands for Romantic Times, so primarily the authors and books featured were romance writers, but there were several Young Adult authors there as well.  In fact, many YA authors have romance books out there—sometimes they use a different pen name to distinguish their works between those marketed for adults.  Before attending this conference, I hadn’t realized how many subgenres fall within the romance novel umbrella, and they were all represented—from Inspirational to Erotica and everything you can imagine in between.

From the time we arrived in Dallas, it felt like events fell into place in our favor.  Our flight arrived earlier than what we’d planned, and we got to the convention in time to attend the RT Convention newbie workshop, where we learned some tips to best negotiate the conference.  Being the book nerd that I am, these authors are my rock stars; it was great to be told to be sure to seek out and talk to my favorite authors.

Kim and my obligatory selfie upon our arrival at the convention

Kim and my obligatory selfie upon our arrival at the convention

I grew up loving to read, and when I hit my teens, romance novels, especially anything that was historical romance geared towards teens, were my favorite.  There was a book series in the 80’s called Sunfire that I absolutely devoured as a teen.  All of the books featured a young heroine growing up in various historical times in American history like the Civil War, western pioneers, or the American Revolution.  Think the American Girl doll books of today with the girls growing from young teens to young women, trying to decide between suitors that represented opposite ways of life for the time period.  Only a few months ago I found a couple of my books from this series at my parents’ house and ordered a few more from Amazon.  I started re-reading them and I still think they are great reads.  When I got older, I enjoyed other types of romance books, but historical romance holds a special place in this reader’s heart.

Our goal was to attend the workshop sessions geared towards writing—and there were plenty to choose from.  Two of my favorite sessions about writing were “Oops, Your Research is Showing!” and “All Things Old Are New Again”.  The first one, which ended up having one of Emily’s favorite YA authors, Lydia Kang, on the panel, gave great information about ways to go about researching topics for your writing.  Everyone on the panel shared how their books’ storylines had aspects that required they find out specific information to ensure their novels felt authentic, without bogging down the reader with too much information.  In “All Things Old Are New Again”, the panel of authors discussed ways they continue to come up with new ideas book after book.  At this session I met Erin Knightley, who is one of my new favorite authors.  In part because she really is a gracious person who was generous with her time in talking to Kim and I, but also her books are historical romance.

In addition to the workshop sessions, there were several publisher sponsored events with opportunities to meet the authors and get free copies of their books.  These events were heavily attended, so there were a lot of lines to wait in and it could get a little overwhelming, but these events were a lot of fun.  Not that I enjoy waiting in lines, but for the most part I found interesting people to talk to in line with me.  Most of the time I would just wait in a line, not even knowing what book or author was on the end of it.  In doing so, I was introduced to various books and authors I would not have otherwise found, and I loved it.

One of the authors I met this way was I.G. Gregorio.  Her YA book, None of the Above, would have never been on my radar.  In reading the premise of the book, which is about a teenage girl who learns rather traumatically as a senior in high school that she is intersex (meaning she was born with both male and female parts), it seemed like an interesting premise that I had never really thought about before.  I didn’t want to pass it on to any of my favorite YA readers without screening it first, so I started reading it that night and I couldn’t put it down.  I finished it by the next morning.  Later, at the giant Book Fair held the last full day of the convention, I sought her out to let her know how much I enjoyed the book, which she seemed to honestly appreciate.

The Book Fair, included as part of the convention, is open to the public and draws an amazing number of book lovers.   The authors are arranged by genre in alphabetical order at huge tables.  Kim and I made it a point to meet up with authors we had met during the convention to get signed copies of their latest books.  I had a list of YA authors that Emily had asked me to look for, and I scored some big time Mom points getting her books that were signed personally to her.  After the Book Fair, we went up to our room to try to figure out how, even with the extra suitcases, we were going to get all these books home without going over the weight limit for our bags.  It wasn’t easy!

Lydia Kang, one of the authors Emily asked me to visit, was kind enough to sign Em's book and pose for a pic

Lydia Kang, one of the authors Emily asked me to visit, was kind enough to sign Em’s book and pose for a pic

This conference rekindled my love of reading as well as reminded me of how much I enjoy the writing process.  I learned so much in the various sessions about the writing and publishing world, met some great people, and was introduced to several new authors that I’m sure will become favorites.  Now if only I can find the time to get to all those books!

Here are the books I brought home with me, many of them signed by the author.

Here are the books I brought home with me, many of them signed by the author.

Category:

Blogging, Book Fair, Reading, RT Booklovers Convention, writing

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The Return of the Dragonfly

05 29 15
Check out more macro photos like this one at http://urdu-mag.com/blog/2012/05/25-beautiful-macro-photography/

Check out more macro photos like this one at http://urdu-mag.com/blog/2012/05/25-beautiful-macro-photography/

I’ve been putting off writing this post—after all, it’s been awhile since I’ve added anything to the Lighthearted Dragonfly site.  I wasn’t sure if I should address the hiatus or just plow back into posting again.  To be honest, it’s been hard to find the time to write ANYTHING worth reading, although I’ve started many, many posts that I never finished.  It wasn’t exactly writer’s block; it was more like the longer I hadn’t posted the more I felt like I was behind and could never catch up.  It reminds me of the way I feel when I haven’t run or worked out in a while—getting back into the groove and lacing up those shoes for the first time seems to take a lot of effort. But similar to how overthinking hopping onto the escalator can paralyze me at the top of those rotating steps, I’ve realized it’s important just to take a deep breath and step out.

Dragonflies aren’t around in the winter.  Although I’ve read in some studies that some dragonflies migrate south in the winter like birds, most adult dragonflies die off as winter approaches.  It’s the nymphs in the water that hatch each spring.  I like to think of myself as one of those dragonfly nymphs that was just hanging out in the water under the surface, waiting for the spring.  It sounds much more poetic than the reality of having too many commitments that my blog had to take a backseat.  I won’t bore you with the “I’m so busy” stories, but the last few months can be summed up in saying that I was doing contract work with solid weekly deadlines, my regular job, and helping out in another department that was in between Administrative Assistants while trying to keep up with my kids’ crazy schedules.

Two weeks ago, my cousin, Kim and I attended the RT Booklovers Convention; I attended as a blogger, although the other bloggers seemed to be all book review blogs.  I will be posting more on this wonderful experience, but in short, being around all these people who live, eat and breathe words, stories and books just made me realize that writing, even short little posts on my little blog, is a part of me.  I am happier when I’m writing and not just focusing on my paid to-do list.  One author I met and really enjoyed talking to at the convention, I. G. Gregorio, is a surgeon in her “other” life.  Yeah, makes my whining about my contract work and job seem a little….well, whiney!

So I’m here to say I’m back, just like those beautiful dragonflies I am hoping to start seeing soon.  If you’ve been following me before, thanks for visiting again and not forgetting about me entirely.  We’ve got a lot to catch up on.  And if you’re visiting for the first time, I hope you choose to stick around to see what’s next.

Category:

Blogging, writing

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Wanted: Antacids and Patience Please

03 17 15

Last Monday, the first day of Spring Break, I took Emily to take the written part of her driving test to get her learner’s permit.  Somehow this snuck up on me.  Even though she turned fifteen a few weeks ago, has had the book to study and has talked quite often about getting her driving permit, the reality of what this actually means hadn’t hit me.  Until that afternoon.

Driving from the testing location to the license office, it occurred to me all that comes with teaching a child to drive:  trying to keep gasps quietly to myself, death grips on the handrest, and questioning my judgment on where and when to not let her drive.  Target’s parking lot is not for the faint of heart!  Then there’s all that comes with when they have their full license and are driving when you’re NOT in the car.  And here I thought I was done giving up sleep when they started sleeping through the night!

I like to think of myself as a laid back person—but I’ll be the first to admit that does not hold true when it comes to riding as a passenger in the car with the kids.  That is where I become the Control Freak from Hell.  Tyler’s been driving on his own for nearly two years now, and I still grab the handrest, even though he drives just fine.  Maybe it’s the memories of how they drove playing Mario Cart when they were little.  Or the times they ran into mailboxes, parked cars and sometimes each other on their bikes.  I know, I shouldn’t hold that against them, but those visions must lie dormant somewhere in my sub-conscious.

It doesn’t seem like that long ago that Tyler was behind the wheel for the first time.  He had two vehicles to choose from to learn on—a 6-speed manual transmission or a full-sized Ford Expedition.  Neither one were very easy to start with, but he began driving with my huge truck.  I can’t remember exactly how I learned to drive, but at least I had a small car.  It seemed like I knew the basics before I actually had a permit.  When we were kids my dad would let us sit on his lap and “drive” on the gravel roads surrounding the sand plant.  I don’t remember having to ask how to put the car in drive, or how the gas pedal worked.

I do remember taking my driver’s test.  I had the lady with the shocking red-orange hair and matching bright orange lipstick.  The one the older kids at school warned us younger ones you didn’t want to give you your test.  I had my mom’s ’86 Mercury.  The steering column had the turn signal, horn and high beams all on the same “blinker stick”.  Up and down for the blinkers, push in for the horn, and pull forward for the brights.  Before we started, I was asked to demonstrate various functions of the car.  The instructor asked me to put on the high beams.  I’d never used them before, but I saw “PULL” on the stick, so I did.  I pulled the turn signal right out of the steering wheel!  Flustered, I tried to put it back on, resulting in my honking the horn long and loud several times.  I’m surprised I didn’t fail right then, but she allowed me to drive off the lot into traffic.  About the third or fourth turn, the blinker stick fell off onto the floorboard, leaving me with a little nub about two inches long to use for the turn signal.  To this day, I think I passed only due to this woman’s pity.  I’m sure that my test made her top ten of hilarious idiot driving test stories to tell.

So now you know I really have no business judging my kids’ lack of driving knowledge.  I had some humble beginnings.  Learning to drive a manual transmission threw me a curveball.  And any passengers almost through the windshield.  My dad probably has more gray hair having taught me to drive a stick, but we survived.

So yes, I’m a hypocrite.  I still can’t help but be a little nervous giving up control of the wheel to someone who describes putting the car in drive as “putting the line on the ‘D’”.  Luckily I’m married to someone who has nerves of steel and a lot more patience as the parent Driver Instructor than I do.  I remind myself to keep a sense of humor about it all, because in the end, having another driver to run errands does come in handy.  I just hope that by the time she’s driving solo, it will be for milk, bread and eggs, not antacids.

Category:

Driver's Test, Driving, family, growing up, kids growing up, motherhood, Personal Essay, teenagers

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We Could All Use a Snow Day

03 03 15
The view on Sunday evening

The view on Sunday evening

Unlike the northeastern part of the country, our winter here has not had as much snow as we have in the past few years. It’s been a cold one, but we haven’t had the kind of weather that keeps the kids home from school—much to Tyler’s dismay. Being a high school senior, he wouldn’t have to make up any snow days due to how graduation and finals are scheduled. I can’t say I blame him for being bummed, being that the past year the kids had so many make up snow days their last day of school ended up being nearly two weeks after it was originally scheduled.

Saturday we finally got a little snow—about 4 or 5 inches. Since the next day was not a school day, there wasn’t a snow day from school, of course, but I enjoyed my own kind of snow day—and it felt wonderful.

I haven’t been able to write for my blog lately because life has gotten way too busy. I hate saying that, because it sounds like an excuse. I also don’t like when people wear their “busy-ness” like a martyr. The truth is, I’m busy because I’ve gotten myself involved in more endeavors than what I probably should have, but for the most part, they’re all things I want to be doing. In short, my busy-ness is self-inflicted, so I shouldn’t complain. I only wish I did it with a little more graciousness!

A friend of mine told me a few years ago that “BUSY” is short for “Being Under Satan’s Yoke”, and I can see where that mindset comes from. Have you seen those “You’re-not-you-when-you’re-hungry” Snickers commercials where the person’s hunger transforms someone like Marsha Brady into Danny Trejo? That happens to me when I’m stressed out about being stretched too thin. (I’ll admit it’s me when I’m hungry too.)

Today’s snow day allowed me some time to happily decompress. I got some form design work done, did a little bit of laundry and straightening up…and threw in an hour or two of being a total bum. I read fluffy articles on the internet. I played Candy Crush on my phone. I leisurely drank my coffee and went and had another cup. I know that there were so many household tasks I could have done during that time, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do them, and I vowed to not feel guilty. This snow day was my mental health day.

The funny thing is, once I had that time just to goof off, I didn’t want to do that anymore. It’s like the end of the kids’ summer vacation—I love the lack of routine for a few weeks, but eventually I want to get back to doing the norm.

It’s March now, and although they’ve talked of freezing rain tonight, I’m not sure Tyler’s going to get his “no-make-up” senior snow day this school year. But I’m grateful for the snow day we did have.

Category:

balance, home, Midwest, Snow Day

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Forget the Skinny Jeans

02 10 15

I don’t think I’ll ever be a size 2. Let me re-phrase that…if I am a size 2, somebody should be shopping for my coffin, because I don’t have long for this world. This is due to several reasons—genetics (body type), age, eating habits and a lack of willpower.

That being said, I, like most people, want to stay in shape. I like when I put on my jeans and I don’t have to suck in my stomach to the point of not breathing to zip and button them. The practical part of me appreciates not having to buy new clothes because I’ve gone up a size (though I don’t mind if it’s DOWN a size!) And I’m not going to lie—I like when I look in the mirror and I’m not sporting a muffin top.

A few weeks ago I joined a gym near my house that my running partner belongs to. Since we’ve moved into the winter months, getting in our morning run has been more of a challenge. It’s not so bad as long as it’s over 25 degrees, but when it’s colder than that and the mileage is over five miles, it becomes more of a torture session. I’m not a huge fan of the treadmill, but they’ll do in a pinch, and the gym I joined has a big theater room that plays a movie. Last week we watched “Dodgeball” during our long run on the treadmill, which made the miles go by a little faster than when I only have music in my headphones to listen to.

I’ve also started going to their Body Pump class. The first day just about killed me, but I was able to scale back the weight enough to keep up through the class. Ibuprofen took care of the next few days. Word to the wise: do not try an ambition exercise routine and follow it with eight hours in the car. It’s a recipe for disaster. The next time I took the class, it was a teensy bit easier, in part because I knew what to expect. The next day I didn’t even need the ibuprofen.

When I signed up at the new gym, there was a special for personal training sessions, and since a friend I used to coach Girls on the Run with is a Personal Trainer there, I took them up on the offer. I have met with her to put together an action plan for my fitness goals. Even though I run quite a bit, my upper body and overall strength is pretty pathetic these days. But not for long.

This is where my perspective has changed over the last fifteen years. When I first started regularly working out post-third-child to get back into my regular, non-maternity clothes, my goal was to look good. Now, though I still want to look good, I am really after the boost in mood and energy to keep up with my life! Especially in the winter. And I’m really more excited about becoming strong more than skinny.

But you know what my favorite thing about the gym is? The social part. I never went to the gym I used to go to because I didn’t know anybody that went there at the times I could go. When I walk into this gym, I see other parents from my kids’ school and meet others in the classes that I didn’t know before. There’s a special bond created when you’ve seen each other with no make-up and hair styled in bedhead form. And having someone to chat (or groan) with makes it fun to show up at the gym for me.

So later today I’ll be meeting up with Missy again to see what’s next in my training and I know I’ll have to exercise more than just my jaws. (Too bad talking alone doesn’t strengthen the rest of me.) While I’ll still never be a size 2, I know at least I’ll be reaching for some pretty lofty goals. Bring on those tight-lidded pickle jars!

Category:

Change, fitness, Girls on the Run, Personal Essay

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Ahh, the Perfect Birthday Gift!

01 30 15

Happy Birthday to You!

I suck at birthdays. Not mine—turning another year older doesn’t bother me (too much). It’s the birthdays of my family and friends that tend to stress me out. How much of a fuss is too much? How much is too little? Yes, these are the kind of first world problems that plague my life.

This past week was my husband’s birthday. Not a milestone one or anything, but a birthday just the same. He’s a low-maintenance guy, so just coming up with gift ideas to tell people for Christmas is hard enough. It’s to the point where no one asks him anymore—they ask me instead. As his wife, I should know what he’d like, right? Yet this is one of the areas in which I fail. I live day in and day out with this man, and somehow manage to not make note as to what he could unwrap that would make him smile. Oh sure, there’s the practical ideas—like new fingernail clippers just for him because any pair we own seem to magically disappear—but who wants to unwrap THAT? Besides, as a grown man, he can pick up those practical types of things he needs whenever he wants to.

Up a notch from the ultra-practical, there are the somewhat-practical types of gifts—like clothes or shoes. Although not the favored gift for most of the ten and under crowd, clothes are something adults can appreciate it. As his spouse, I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing what sizes and styles work and which ones don’t. But he did get some clothes just last month for Christmas, and he’s wanting to lose weight, so I didn’t want to go the clothes route.

The parts/tools route—that train left a long time ago. He’s a tool-guy, but already has multiple drills, cordless screwdrivers, various saws and work benches, socket sets and the like. I couldn’t tell you what he was looking to replace or upgrade—even if I asked him, he’d say he didn’t need any more tools. They are kind of his go-to impulse buy. Some strange things that were not on his list follow him home from Lowes and Home Depot.

This year I went with the tried and true—fishing gear, but what was specifically mentioned in conversation—a soft-sided tackle box. I painstakingly sought out the perfect one. It has pockets for everything—cell phone, sunglasses and small tools. It’s a cool color scheme-red and black. It has a worm binder thing that amounts to some zippered pages. I even got it in time for his birthday. I think he liked it. He’s a hard read sometimes.

“Look at all those pockets!” I gushed.

tackle box

“Yeah, those are great,” he acknowledged. Have I mentioned he’s not very demonstrative about gifts?

In the end, my gift was graciously accepted and was a notable keeper. The kids’ presents—a BBQ lighter shaped like a double-barrel shotgun, running pants and a Nike shirt—were all appreciated appropriately.

But we were all outdone.

My sister-in-law, Katie, originally due in mid-February, gave birth to our nephew just hours before the end of Darrell’s birthday. We now have a beautiful new member of our family. He’s healthy and we’re all to the moon and back happy and excited.

How do you compete with that?

Because in the end, anything you unwrap will be cool for a while. Even the most anticipated gifts lose their luster and anything you unwrap is just that—a thing. A sweet little baby trumps a tackle box (even one with really great pockets) any day!

Welcome to the family, Callen Michael!

 

 

Category:

Birthdays, family, home, Personal Essay

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The Jokes on Me: Advice to My Younger Self

01 23 15

Do you remember when you were a kid—or even later when you thought you were no longer a kid—when you told yourself you were never going to do something the same way your parents did? Or have you ever declared the laughable, “I’ll never do such and such!”?

There’s a commercial for State Farm insurance out right now where the guy says “I’m never getting married,” and the next scene shows him getting hitched. The commercial continues along those same lines of “I’ll never” followed by a scene of him doing the very thing he was never going to do. It ends very sweetly with him snuggling with his wife and kids and admitting how he’ll “never let it go”. I laugh every time I see that commercial, because I think of some of the ideas and opinions I had when I was younger and how they’ve changed over the years.

While I can’t pinpoint all the reasons the when and why those opinions and “nevers” changed, I do think both life experience and maturity play a large role. If I were my 43-year-old self back when I was in my teens and early twenties, well, I just wouldn’t be the me I was meant to be today. So I’m glad I took the path I did, and I don’t have any huge regrets. But there are a few times when I wish I would have had more common sense back then, or at least been able to know a few things I know now. Although I probably wouldn’t have listened to my older self anyway, if there were a magical way to tell Young Amy a few things, I would have to at least give myself this list:

  • Wear sunscreen on your face, even if you don’t get sunburn. Yes, I know there was even a song out a few years back encouraging this, but I really wish I would have listened. I have spent a TON of money on dermatologists and skin care products to fade several huge patches on my face that have hyperpigmentation (dark spots).
  • Quit worrying about when your kids will ever sleep through the night or in their own room. It may seem like they’ll never do either one, but they will. Who ever heard of twenty-year olds that still sneak in bed with their parents when they have a bad dream? You can save your worrying for when they start driving. (Yikes!)
  • Don’t be afraid to take classes in school that are outside your major or what you think you like. Use that time in college to discover your interests and talents. Grown up life will be waiting for you soon enough—no need to rush those years.
  • Buy term life insurance when you’re young and healthy. Darrell and I did not do this when we were first married and instead bought mortgage insurance when we purchased our first house. What we paid for that insurance would have bought us at least a year or two of term life insurance. As it happened, we didn’t buy life insurance until after Darrell had a health condition, which makes the rates higher. Argh!
  • Take a tape measure with you to the furniture store. It never looks as big in the store as it does in your home. I also might add never furniture shop on a whim after having a margarita with dinner at the little Mexican place down the road from the furniture store.
  • Pay attention when your parents and grandparents tell you stories. You may think you’ve heard them a thousand times, but when they are no longer around for you to ask, it’ll make you sad when you don’t remember all the details or how the story went.
  • Practice for your piano lessons! Even if you don’t feel like it or you’re sick of playing scales.
  • Never utter the words, “My kids will never…” It is the quickest way to ensure their DNA will contain the exact genetic code to be a picky eater, nose picker, thumb sucker, etc.
  • Pay your credit card off each month. If you can’t afford to do so, you’re living beyond your means. Don’t get into credit card debt.
  • Choose to be around people that build you up, not make you be untrue to who you are. Being negative and having a bad attitude do not make you cool. Don’t be afraid to move on.
  • Leave the perms for the professional stylists to do. The same came be said for messing around with hair dye colors when you don’t know what you’re doing.
  • Take every opportunity to travel and explore new places.
  • Blame your hormones, not your loved ones. When something irrationally upsets you, realize it’s probably just PMS, shut your mouth and go to bed early. Emphasis on shut your mouth. You’ll feel better in the morning. Trust me.

It’s definitely not an all-inclusive list; after all some things have to be experienced first-hand for us to learn and grow—a pair of oh-so-stylish Sally Jesse Raphael-style eyeglasses comes to mind. The funny thing is, this list is far from being unique to just me. (Well, maybe the hair dye incident of 1985.) Regrets serve no good purpose, but what would YOU tell your young self? How would it affect the YOU of today?

PS Today is my blog’s one year anniversary!

Category:

Advice, Anniversary, Change, growing up, humor, kids growing up, Personal Essay

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