I blame it on my mother.
(Sorry, Mom!)
My mother almost never threw anything away. Socks with holes were mended. Broken dishes were glued. Ripped books were taped. Bits of wire, ribbon ends, random buttons, wood scraps, and countless other things were all saved.
Waste not, want not.
My mother was raised to be extremely frugal, to save, reuse, and repurpose as much as possible. This is wonderful in so many ways. But it also made it so that growing up, we had a ridiculous amount of stuff, because nothing was disposed of.
In preparing for our move, I may have not had to confront these same tendencies in myself.
Hubster and I spent the weekend packing up things in our basement. We sorted things into three categories.
There was the "definitely keeping" category, containing items that we know we will use again and are willing to pay to have moved across the country.
There was the "yard sale/donate" category, full of items that were perfectly good, but we didn't need anymore.
Last, there was the "trash" category, which should have been obvious.
Putting things in the keep pile was easy for me. Yes, I need my full frame back packing gear! Yes, I need to keep these winter boots! Yes, I need to keep all these books!
When it came time to put things in the other piles, it was a little bit harder...Fine! It was really hard. And also embarrassing.
I realized that I hoard boxes. Piles and piles of boxes. Old shoe boxes, empty Amazon boxes, small little gift boxes. You never know when you'll need a box to ship something cross country or to wrap a Christmas present in.
All the boxes that couldn't be used to pack things into for the move went in the trash pile (actually, the recycle pile, because that's the right thing to do.)
I realize that I hoard glass bottles. Several boxes of empty glass bottles and jars. Old jam jars, sauce jars, pickle jars, all thoroughly washed and labels removed with their lids attached. I blame Pinterest for making me thing I was going to upcycle all these jars into darling storage solutions for Q-tips and and crayons.
All the jars also went to recycling.
Apparently, I also hoard bags. Several boxes of bags. The boys' old school back packs, work bags with hospital logos on them, diaper bags. I have no justification for this one. I can't think of a single reason I thought we might eventually need 30 plus old bags.
Most were still just fine and were cleaned in preparation for a yard sale. The others with broken zipper and ripped straps and shredded pockets were tossed.
Each time we found a box of more items that I had been hoarding away, I became more and more embarrassed. It was painful, sorting through all those things, trying to go back through the justifications I had to store them in the first place.
It was also very cathartic. Seeing our basement empty, letting go of so much stuff that we didn't need (or even want), was extremely rewarding. Almost freeing in a way.
My goal is that when we move into our next home, the only things we bring into the house are things we actually use. I don't need things sitting away in storage for the possibility of using them someday.
I might still be a hoarder, but I'm going to try to be a hoarder of good memories and clean rooms, instead of boxes and jars and bags.
Showing posts with label Random Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random Thoughts. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Thursday, May 7, 2015
A Random Act of Kindness
Less than a mile from our home is a large nature preserve that is crisscrossed with walking trails that weave through old hardwood forests and restored patches of prairie and across arched bridges that span shallow creeks.
We walk through there frequently as a family, birdwatching or looking for (but never picking) wildflowers, or usually just disturbing other people with our wild children.
Several years ago, in early fall, I was walking through this park with my children, and we had done quite the walk. It started drizzling, with the threat of heavier rain to come. We were quite far from our car, so I hoisted then 5-year-old Monkey onto my shoulders, with 9-year-old Bug next to me, and we jogged back to the parking lot. After I buckled my boys into their car seats and hopped in the car myself, I noticed that the small backpack I had, containing snacks and water bottles, had unzipped a little during our hasty retreat from the weather. I quickly did inventory to realize that the one thing that had fallen out was my camera.
At this point, it was raining steadily. I became very upset, thinking of my camera sitting along a trail somewhere, getting drenched. The memory drive in that camera had photos of preschool graduation and Monkey's first day of kindergarten and our summer memories on it. Even if the camera was ruined, I had to find it and save that memory card. I called Hubster and he drove over to the park. We waited for the rain to subside a little and then started combing the trail system.
We retraced my steps. We asked anyone who passed us. No one had seen my camera. I shed tears, but as it became dark, we ultimately had to leave empty handed.
We didn't make it back to the park the rest of the fall. I bought a new camera. There was nothing else to do about it.
The following spring, as the days became longer, the warmer weather beckoned us outside and back to the trails of the nature preserve.
When we got to the parking lot, my boys slipped out of the car and ran all over the trail head, climbing up on the small walls of the information shelter at the park entrance, while I packed up water and fruit snacks in a small (more secure) backpack. As I was gathering things up, Monkey ran up to me.
"Mom! There's a picture of us on the bulletin board! Come look!"
I followed him over to the small shelter, and there, next to the trail maps and posters warning of invasive plant species, was hanging a picture of my children.
Seeing that picture gave me the strangest, almost out of body experience. Why was there a picture of my children, smiling out at me from the deck in my backyard? What was it doing here? Who had been able to get this picture?
I snatched the photo quickly off the bulletin board.
On the back of the photo, handwritten, was a small message.
"I found a camera along the trail. It was starting to rain, so I picked it up so it wouldn't get ruined. Pictures of these boys were on the memory card. If this is your camera, please call..."
I quickly called the number, knowing that it had been over 6 months since I had lost that camera, and who would keep a lost camera that long.
The person who answered told me that yes, they still had the camera! Also amazingly enough, they lived only one block away from me. They had hoped that the only person who would take down the photo would be the family of the children; who else would remove it and look at the back?
We did our walk, and then stopped by the kind stranger's house to pick up my camera, still fully functional and still containing the previous summer's memories.
I was blown away by that individual's kindness. They could have easily just left the camera there to become soaked in the rain. They could have picked it up and left it in the shelter, with the hope that it would be found. But they went above and beyond to make sure that camera, along with all the sentimental photographs, made it's way home to me.
We walk through there frequently as a family, birdwatching or looking for (but never picking) wildflowers, or usually just disturbing other people with our wild children.
Several years ago, in early fall, I was walking through this park with my children, and we had done quite the walk. It started drizzling, with the threat of heavier rain to come. We were quite far from our car, so I hoisted then 5-year-old Monkey onto my shoulders, with 9-year-old Bug next to me, and we jogged back to the parking lot. After I buckled my boys into their car seats and hopped in the car myself, I noticed that the small backpack I had, containing snacks and water bottles, had unzipped a little during our hasty retreat from the weather. I quickly did inventory to realize that the one thing that had fallen out was my camera.
At this point, it was raining steadily. I became very upset, thinking of my camera sitting along a trail somewhere, getting drenched. The memory drive in that camera had photos of preschool graduation and Monkey's first day of kindergarten and our summer memories on it. Even if the camera was ruined, I had to find it and save that memory card. I called Hubster and he drove over to the park. We waited for the rain to subside a little and then started combing the trail system.
We retraced my steps. We asked anyone who passed us. No one had seen my camera. I shed tears, but as it became dark, we ultimately had to leave empty handed.
We didn't make it back to the park the rest of the fall. I bought a new camera. There was nothing else to do about it.
The following spring, as the days became longer, the warmer weather beckoned us outside and back to the trails of the nature preserve.
When we got to the parking lot, my boys slipped out of the car and ran all over the trail head, climbing up on the small walls of the information shelter at the park entrance, while I packed up water and fruit snacks in a small (more secure) backpack. As I was gathering things up, Monkey ran up to me.
"Mom! There's a picture of us on the bulletin board! Come look!"
I followed him over to the small shelter, and there, next to the trail maps and posters warning of invasive plant species, was hanging a picture of my children.
Seeing that picture gave me the strangest, almost out of body experience. Why was there a picture of my children, smiling out at me from the deck in my backyard? What was it doing here? Who had been able to get this picture?
I snatched the photo quickly off the bulletin board.
On the back of the photo, handwritten, was a small message.
"I found a camera along the trail. It was starting to rain, so I picked it up so it wouldn't get ruined. Pictures of these boys were on the memory card. If this is your camera, please call..."
I quickly called the number, knowing that it had been over 6 months since I had lost that camera, and who would keep a lost camera that long.
The person who answered told me that yes, they still had the camera! Also amazingly enough, they lived only one block away from me. They had hoped that the only person who would take down the photo would be the family of the children; who else would remove it and look at the back?
We did our walk, and then stopped by the kind stranger's house to pick up my camera, still fully functional and still containing the previous summer's memories.
I was blown away by that individual's kindness. They could have easily just left the camera there to become soaked in the rain. They could have picked it up and left it in the shelter, with the hope that it would be found. But they went above and beyond to make sure that camera, along with all the sentimental photographs, made it's way home to me.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Currently: Spring Edition
Current Book
I'm trying to do a better job of actually reading. I completely book binged after I finished all of my board exams last year, but haven't read much for the last several months.
I've taken some friends' recommendations and am reading Liane Moriarty. Big Little Lies was the only one available at the Library, but I want to read them all. I'm only a quarter of the way through the book, but so intrigued.
Current Drink
Water. I've started keeping track of how much water I'm drinking, and it is not nearly enough. So now, I'm pretty much exclusively a water drinker, with cucumber, lime, or lemon slices added. Except on weekend nights. Then I shake it up with a gin cocktail. I'm kind of obsessed with gin lately.
Current Song
"Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon
"Black Sun" by Death Cab for Cutie
Also, I'm counting "Shake It Off" by Taylor Swift, because I sing this at my boys every time they get upset. Which may or may not help.
Current Wish List
I want to be done with this move. I want our movers settled. I want our home financing to go through. I want the packing to be done. I want to just get settled and be done with this.
Current Needs
Oh, a couple million dollars would be nice.
Current TV Shows
I have completely caught up on Game of Thrones and love it. And by love it, I mean get so anxious during each episode, I have a hard time watching.
We are also watching Outlander, which I just can't help but love.
Bug and I watch Doctor Who together. And we've started watching The Wonder Years as a family.
Current Movies
I have watched several movies lately, and been so disappointed. I don't have enough time to watch bad movies! I usually use Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB to screen out really awful ones, and try to only watch highly rated and well reviewed movies. But Noah was terrible. John Wick was awful. Elysium was too uncomfortable and upsetting. I just haven't been able to pick anything good lately.
Current Outfit
Hospital issued maroon scrubs. Compression stockings and New Balance shoes. I'm rocking fashion lately.
Current Indulgences
Time on Facebook. I've joined a couple medical groups and I'm just obsessed with reading about people's interesting cases and practices.
Current Excitement
I'm planning our summer road trip and am so excited to take my family to see brand new things.
Current Mood
Tired, slightly stressed, with a touch of apathy.
I'm trying to do a better job of actually reading. I completely book binged after I finished all of my board exams last year, but haven't read much for the last several months.
I've taken some friends' recommendations and am reading Liane Moriarty. Big Little Lies was the only one available at the Library, but I want to read them all. I'm only a quarter of the way through the book, but so intrigued.
Current Drink
Water. I've started keeping track of how much water I'm drinking, and it is not nearly enough. So now, I'm pretty much exclusively a water drinker, with cucumber, lime, or lemon slices added. Except on weekend nights. Then I shake it up with a gin cocktail. I'm kind of obsessed with gin lately.
Current Song
"Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon
"Black Sun" by Death Cab for Cutie
Also, I'm counting "Shake It Off" by Taylor Swift, because I sing this at my boys every time they get upset. Which may or may not help.
Current Wish List
I want to be done with this move. I want our movers settled. I want our home financing to go through. I want the packing to be done. I want to just get settled and be done with this.
Current Needs
Oh, a couple million dollars would be nice.
Current TV Shows
I have completely caught up on Game of Thrones and love it. And by love it, I mean get so anxious during each episode, I have a hard time watching.
We are also watching Outlander, which I just can't help but love.
Bug and I watch Doctor Who together. And we've started watching The Wonder Years as a family.
Current Movies
I have watched several movies lately, and been so disappointed. I don't have enough time to watch bad movies! I usually use Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB to screen out really awful ones, and try to only watch highly rated and well reviewed movies. But Noah was terrible. John Wick was awful. Elysium was too uncomfortable and upsetting. I just haven't been able to pick anything good lately.
Current Outfit
Hospital issued maroon scrubs. Compression stockings and New Balance shoes. I'm rocking fashion lately.
Current Indulgences
Time on Facebook. I've joined a couple medical groups and I'm just obsessed with reading about people's interesting cases and practices.
Current Excitement
I'm planning our summer road trip and am so excited to take my family to see brand new things.
Current Mood
Tired, slightly stressed, with a touch of apathy.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Let Me Explain...
...No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
(To quote one of the best movies there is.)
Sometimes, I feel like my blog is a childhood friend. The kind that you used to talk to every day and share every little detail with. Then life happens, and you get busy, and suddenly, you realize it's been forever since you've talked.
Once I'm in that situation, I start feeling awkward.If I call, will I just bother them? Are they mad that it's been so long? Are we still even friends?
Each time, once I've finally made contact again, I realize it's not awkward, it's not terrible. So, despite becoming that flaky and undependable person, I'm reestablishing contact.
Things are like they always are. Chaotic. Can't things just settle down and be boring? Boring would be lovely.
Here's a summary of how things are going...
Our home has an accepted offer. The inspection and appraisal and all other things are done (to the best of my knowledge.) We close in about a month and a half.
We've made an offer on a home in Utah. After much nail biting negotiating, that offer has been accepted. We are still biting our nails as we wait for our financing to go through.
We are planning another epic summer road trip. Since we have to move all of us from Iowa to Utah, we decided that we would combine summer vacation with the driving.
I'm spending my days getting quotes from movers, figuring out the best way to get our cats to Utah, and sending dozens of emails to mortgage lenders, real estate agents, and all the other ancillary services that go along with this.
Monkey has been struggling in school. We actually got a letter sent home. We are meeting with his teacher and trying to figure out the best way to proceed.
I've almost got my Utah state medical licensing done so it looks like I actually will have a job after we move.
I'm making lists of everything that we will need to do when we move. Pack. Change utilities. Change banks. Change address on a bazillion different things.
I spent the weekend "helping" Monkey construct a rocket for Scouts. Helping is what I've starting calling my constant nagging and scolding.
I had to come up with an academic project for my first year at my new job. I've come up with an idea and the project has been approved.
Hubster and I watched 4 seasons of Game of Thrones in one month.
I've had three dentist appointments in 5 weeks. Boo. Except one of those appointments is for bleaching, so I can have pretty pearly white teeth.
I turned another 30-something age a few weeks ago.
Duck accidentally got fed a gluten-filled muffin and had days of misery in which pretty much no one slept.
Spring arrived.
I continue to work. Hubster continues to go to school. We continue to do laundry, make meals, supervise homework, go for walks, survive bedtimes.
I think the stress that accompanies change is getting to me. I'm not super fun to be around and I cry at random things. Today, I cried at a picture on Facebook of Kathrine Switzer, the first female in the Boston Marathon. Last night, I dissolved into tears while singing "Return to Pooh Corner" to Duck at bedtime.
Things are actually falling into place. I know they won't be chaotic forever. I may even find time to write a real post.
But for now, it was nice to just catch up.
(To quote one of the best movies there is.)
Sometimes, I feel like my blog is a childhood friend. The kind that you used to talk to every day and share every little detail with. Then life happens, and you get busy, and suddenly, you realize it's been forever since you've talked.
Once I'm in that situation, I start feeling awkward.If I call, will I just bother them? Are they mad that it's been so long? Are we still even friends?
Each time, once I've finally made contact again, I realize it's not awkward, it's not terrible. So, despite becoming that flaky and undependable person, I'm reestablishing contact.
Things are like they always are. Chaotic. Can't things just settle down and be boring? Boring would be lovely.
Here's a summary of how things are going...
Our home has an accepted offer. The inspection and appraisal and all other things are done (to the best of my knowledge.) We close in about a month and a half.
We've made an offer on a home in Utah. After much nail biting negotiating, that offer has been accepted. We are still biting our nails as we wait for our financing to go through.
We are planning another epic summer road trip. Since we have to move all of us from Iowa to Utah, we decided that we would combine summer vacation with the driving.
I'm spending my days getting quotes from movers, figuring out the best way to get our cats to Utah, and sending dozens of emails to mortgage lenders, real estate agents, and all the other ancillary services that go along with this.
Monkey has been struggling in school. We actually got a letter sent home. We are meeting with his teacher and trying to figure out the best way to proceed.
I've almost got my Utah state medical licensing done so it looks like I actually will have a job after we move.
I'm making lists of everything that we will need to do when we move. Pack. Change utilities. Change banks. Change address on a bazillion different things.
I spent the weekend "helping" Monkey construct a rocket for Scouts. Helping is what I've starting calling my constant nagging and scolding.
I had to come up with an academic project for my first year at my new job. I've come up with an idea and the project has been approved.
Hubster and I watched 4 seasons of Game of Thrones in one month.
I've had three dentist appointments in 5 weeks. Boo. Except one of those appointments is for bleaching, so I can have pretty pearly white teeth.
I turned another 30-something age a few weeks ago.
Duck accidentally got fed a gluten-filled muffin and had days of misery in which pretty much no one slept.
Spring arrived.
I continue to work. Hubster continues to go to school. We continue to do laundry, make meals, supervise homework, go for walks, survive bedtimes.
I think the stress that accompanies change is getting to me. I'm not super fun to be around and I cry at random things. Today, I cried at a picture on Facebook of Kathrine Switzer, the first female in the Boston Marathon. Last night, I dissolved into tears while singing "Return to Pooh Corner" to Duck at bedtime.
Things are actually falling into place. I know they won't be chaotic forever. I may even find time to write a real post.
But for now, it was nice to just catch up.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Curly Locks
As part of simplifying and de-stressing my life, I've decided to work on accepting my hair in its natural state.
My hair is naturally wavy/curly/very poofy. I've always felt I would have had awesome 80s pop music hair, but unfortunately, by the time I was worried about fashion, the 80s were over.
For the longest time, all I wanted was smooth, flowing, shiny, straight hair. I've spent most of my life fighting the waves and curls. I blow dried and flat ironed my hair daily for years. I spent ridiculous amounts of money on straightening products. I looked into salon treatments to chemically straighten my hair. In junior high, I literally ironed my hair, with an actual clothes iron. (Doing that by yourself is actually incredibly difficult, and I highly don't recommend trying, for reasons other than the complete obvious of not using a regular iron on your hair.)
As I got busier and busier, I had less and less time to spend fighting my curls. Gone were the mornings I could spend, meticulously dividing my hair into segments and running the flat iron repeatedly over each one. My solution was to just wear my hair up, which is what I did most of residency.
Recently, I decided that I'm done fighting my hair. I'm ready to embrace it for what it naturally wants to do.
A couple years ago, I found a hair stylist that I really like. At my last hair cut, I told her I was ready to embrace my hair in all its wild glory. So she did a cut that would allow my curls to shine.
(This is also the point where I should confess that I am awful at maintaining hair cuts. It is all I can do to get in about twice a year to get my hair cut. I wait until my bangs are covering my entire face and then reluctantly admit that I really should get it cut again.)
Now, my hair routine consists washing my hair at night, combing through it with my fingers, working in a little mousse, then going to bed with wet hair.
This is what I wake up to.
This is my hair in its (nearly) natural state. I call it my "I just don't give a crap anymore" hair style. There is no more hours spent attempting to tame my mane on a daily basis.
Although, with my current cut, it's fairly easy to wear it straight, should I feel like it. I save that for special occasions, like date night or Thursdays.
I was so nervous about starting to wear my hair curly. I was worried it would look unkempt or unprofessional. And maybe it does. But the response has been very positive. Which is good, because with how easy it is to do my hair now, there is no way I can go back.
My hair is naturally wavy/curly/very poofy. I've always felt I would have had awesome 80s pop music hair, but unfortunately, by the time I was worried about fashion, the 80s were over.
For the longest time, all I wanted was smooth, flowing, shiny, straight hair. I've spent most of my life fighting the waves and curls. I blow dried and flat ironed my hair daily for years. I spent ridiculous amounts of money on straightening products. I looked into salon treatments to chemically straighten my hair. In junior high, I literally ironed my hair, with an actual clothes iron. (Doing that by yourself is actually incredibly difficult, and I highly don't recommend trying, for reasons other than the complete obvious of not using a regular iron on your hair.)
As I got busier and busier, I had less and less time to spend fighting my curls. Gone were the mornings I could spend, meticulously dividing my hair into segments and running the flat iron repeatedly over each one. My solution was to just wear my hair up, which is what I did most of residency.
Recently, I decided that I'm done fighting my hair. I'm ready to embrace it for what it naturally wants to do.
A couple years ago, I found a hair stylist that I really like. At my last hair cut, I told her I was ready to embrace my hair in all its wild glory. So she did a cut that would allow my curls to shine.
(This is also the point where I should confess that I am awful at maintaining hair cuts. It is all I can do to get in about twice a year to get my hair cut. I wait until my bangs are covering my entire face and then reluctantly admit that I really should get it cut again.)
Now, my hair routine consists washing my hair at night, combing through it with my fingers, working in a little mousse, then going to bed with wet hair.
This is what I wake up to.
This is my hair in its (nearly) natural state. I call it my "I just don't give a crap anymore" hair style. There is no more hours spent attempting to tame my mane on a daily basis.
Although, with my current cut, it's fairly easy to wear it straight, should I feel like it. I save that for special occasions, like date night or Thursdays.
I was so nervous about starting to wear my hair curly. I was worried it would look unkempt or unprofessional. And maybe it does. But the response has been very positive. Which is good, because with how easy it is to do my hair now, there is no way I can go back.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Dear Seventeen Year Old Me
Hey there, 17 year old me.
I was getting the kids out of the minivan in the Target parking lot, and I suddenly thought about you. All three boys were yelling and running around.I was holding on very tightly to the arm of the two year old to keep him from jumping in front of a passing car. He then looked up at me with a big smile and asked in his little baby voice for a swing. Hubster and I held him by the arm pits and swung him. As he squealed in happiness, we looked at each other and smiled.
And then I thought of you, all those years ago. You, never even imagining that this is where you will eventually end up. Slightly overweight, driving a minivan full of boys, living in Iowa. None of those things are on your radar.
I know that you think you will have girls. I remember that little box filled with baby dresses (where did you get those from again?) and color schemes for a fairy-themed nursery and a couple of girl names all picked out. I know that your future plans for your children include tea parties and ballet lessons and picking out prom dresses.
You're not going to do any of those things. You will never shop in the pink aisle of the toy store. You will never go to a dance recital. You will paint rooms blue and red and green, but not pink or purple. Because you are going to have all boys, and they will love Legos and Ninja Turtles and Nerf Guns and all sorts of things you never even thought about.
You will love those boys more than you can imagine.
I know that you think you are never going to drive a minivan. I remember you saying that on multiple occasions. You are sure that you will buy a stylish SUV, or a Suburban. They fit just as many people as a minivan, but don't have the same frumpy soccer mom stereotype associated with them.
You're not going to buy any SUV. You are going to have a third baby and have the idea of a minivan sound like the solution to everything. You will test drive a minivan and instantly want to buy it.
You will enjoy that minivan more that you can imagine.
I know that you think you will live by the ocean. The ocean calls to your young soul. Even now, I still here that call. You want to leave behind cold winters and dry places and live with the sand between your toes and the sound of the surf in your ears.
You're not going to live by the ocean. You are going to interview for residency at a lot of places by the ocean, but realize that none of them feel right. Then you are going to interview at a little city in Iowa. It will just feel right. It will be the best thing for you, the right thing for your family, and you will have hopes of being able to live there the rest of your life, frigid winters and lack of beaches and all.
You will love Iowa more than you can imagine.
I know that you think you'll be skinny forever. After all, you're really skinny right now. I know you don't believe that - no teenage girl believes they are skinny. But you are. You are amazingly beautiful, and sadly it will take you 15 years to realize that. But you've got great genes and you're healthy and you're active, so of course you're going to be skinny forever. After all, if you got fat, you'd rather die.
You're not going to stay skinny. You are going to have three children and gain a lot of weight with each pregnancy and not be able to loose it all. You will run and bike and diet and cry and buy bigger pants and cry some more. But you're still not super skinny any more. You'll still always want to lose the weight. That feeling never goes away. But at some point, you're going to stop and just think about your body. About how it carried three beautiful babies and how it can run 5 miles and how you let it get sleep deprived and out of shape and fed it a terrible diet of hospital cafeteria food and it still did all those amazing things. You're going to be overweight. I'll be honest - I cringe when I think too long about what size my jeans are and how I had to give away all those cute clothes you have. But still, you're going to be able to run all over the park with your loud boys and hike and do a 10K and carry that really heavy piece of furniture up the stairs with Hubster.
You are going to accept your body more than you can imagine.
I know that none of this is how you saw things going.
But you are going to be happier that you can imagine.
Love,
Your future self.
Oh, P.S. That guy that you're really good friends with right now, the one who thinks it's awesome that you read British novels and compete in the science club and get good grades? Give him a chance. I know that you're still madly crushing on that one other guy with the really nice hair. But that would be a mistake. Because that guy that you're "just friends with" right now?
You're going to love him more that you can imagine.
I was getting the kids out of the minivan in the Target parking lot, and I suddenly thought about you. All three boys were yelling and running around.I was holding on very tightly to the arm of the two year old to keep him from jumping in front of a passing car. He then looked up at me with a big smile and asked in his little baby voice for a swing. Hubster and I held him by the arm pits and swung him. As he squealed in happiness, we looked at each other and smiled.
And then I thought of you, all those years ago. You, never even imagining that this is where you will eventually end up. Slightly overweight, driving a minivan full of boys, living in Iowa. None of those things are on your radar.
I know that you think you will have girls. I remember that little box filled with baby dresses (where did you get those from again?) and color schemes for a fairy-themed nursery and a couple of girl names all picked out. I know that your future plans for your children include tea parties and ballet lessons and picking out prom dresses.
You're not going to do any of those things. You will never shop in the pink aisle of the toy store. You will never go to a dance recital. You will paint rooms blue and red and green, but not pink or purple. Because you are going to have all boys, and they will love Legos and Ninja Turtles and Nerf Guns and all sorts of things you never even thought about.
You will love those boys more than you can imagine.
I know that you think you are never going to drive a minivan. I remember you saying that on multiple occasions. You are sure that you will buy a stylish SUV, or a Suburban. They fit just as many people as a minivan, but don't have the same frumpy soccer mom stereotype associated with them.
You're not going to buy any SUV. You are going to have a third baby and have the idea of a minivan sound like the solution to everything. You will test drive a minivan and instantly want to buy it.
You will enjoy that minivan more that you can imagine.
I know that you think you will live by the ocean. The ocean calls to your young soul. Even now, I still here that call. You want to leave behind cold winters and dry places and live with the sand between your toes and the sound of the surf in your ears.
You're not going to live by the ocean. You are going to interview for residency at a lot of places by the ocean, but realize that none of them feel right. Then you are going to interview at a little city in Iowa. It will just feel right. It will be the best thing for you, the right thing for your family, and you will have hopes of being able to live there the rest of your life, frigid winters and lack of beaches and all.
You will love Iowa more than you can imagine.
I know that you think you'll be skinny forever. After all, you're really skinny right now. I know you don't believe that - no teenage girl believes they are skinny. But you are. You are amazingly beautiful, and sadly it will take you 15 years to realize that. But you've got great genes and you're healthy and you're active, so of course you're going to be skinny forever. After all, if you got fat, you'd rather die.
You're not going to stay skinny. You are going to have three children and gain a lot of weight with each pregnancy and not be able to loose it all. You will run and bike and diet and cry and buy bigger pants and cry some more. But you're still not super skinny any more. You'll still always want to lose the weight. That feeling never goes away. But at some point, you're going to stop and just think about your body. About how it carried three beautiful babies and how it can run 5 miles and how you let it get sleep deprived and out of shape and fed it a terrible diet of hospital cafeteria food and it still did all those amazing things. You're going to be overweight. I'll be honest - I cringe when I think too long about what size my jeans are and how I had to give away all those cute clothes you have. But still, you're going to be able to run all over the park with your loud boys and hike and do a 10K and carry that really heavy piece of furniture up the stairs with Hubster.
You are going to accept your body more than you can imagine.
I know that none of this is how you saw things going.
But you are going to be happier that you can imagine.
Love,
Your future self.
Oh, P.S. That guy that you're really good friends with right now, the one who thinks it's awesome that you read British novels and compete in the science club and get good grades? Give him a chance. I know that you're still madly crushing on that one other guy with the really nice hair. But that would be a mistake. Because that guy that you're "just friends with" right now?
You're going to love him more that you can imagine.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Currently (Or at least Recently)
Sometimes, when my brain is so very tired and I still feel the need to write something, it's nice to do one of these posts and check in with myself (and also you) about what is going on in my life.
Current Book
I feel that every time I do one of these posts, I'm not actually reading anything. I just finished Adulting, which is hilarious and very justifying about some things I do. Maybe I'm actually an adult after all.
I tried to read The Gold Finch, but that book was exhausting. I'm planning on reading The Ocean at the End of the Road and The Hangman's Daughter. Any other suggestions?
Current Drink
Water with lime, coffee, and a daily green smoothie.
Current Song
Anything by Florence and the Machine
Contagious by Night Riot
The Funeral by Band of Horses
Hubster has decided that all the music I like is weird.
Current Wish List
To finish our home improvement project list, which mainly involved getting our main bathroom back up and running.
Current Needs
An uninterrupted night's sleep.
Current Movie/TV shows
I'm loving that Downton Abbey started back up. But other than that, I'm not sure what else to watch. We started House of Lies and Mad Men, but really didn't like that characters, which made it hard to keep going back to watch more. I'm open to any Netflix suggestions.
I haven't seen a movie in a while. I'm not even sure what's playing in theaters.
Current Indulgence
Blogging. I'm sure there is some laundry to do, toilets to clean, medical journal to read, or wall to paint. But right now, I'm writing.
Current Outfit
Jeans, boots, and gray hoodie. I'm not fancy at all. Although I am wearing Little Mermaid socks, and those make me pretty happy.
Current Mood
Exhausted. Three days of painting, tiling, and plumbing wears one out.
Current Excitement
It looks like Hubster and I both have real, permanent jobs. This is beyond exciting and warrants a full post later.
Current Book
I feel that every time I do one of these posts, I'm not actually reading anything. I just finished Adulting, which is hilarious and very justifying about some things I do. Maybe I'm actually an adult after all.
I tried to read The Gold Finch, but that book was exhausting. I'm planning on reading The Ocean at the End of the Road and The Hangman's Daughter. Any other suggestions?
Current Drink
Water with lime, coffee, and a daily green smoothie.
Current Song
Anything by Florence and the Machine
Contagious by Night Riot
The Funeral by Band of Horses
Hubster has decided that all the music I like is weird.
Current Wish List
To finish our home improvement project list, which mainly involved getting our main bathroom back up and running.
Current Needs
An uninterrupted night's sleep.
Current Movie/TV shows
I'm loving that Downton Abbey started back up. But other than that, I'm not sure what else to watch. We started House of Lies and Mad Men, but really didn't like that characters, which made it hard to keep going back to watch more. I'm open to any Netflix suggestions.
I haven't seen a movie in a while. I'm not even sure what's playing in theaters.
Current Indulgence
Blogging. I'm sure there is some laundry to do, toilets to clean, medical journal to read, or wall to paint. But right now, I'm writing.
Current Outfit
Jeans, boots, and gray hoodie. I'm not fancy at all. Although I am wearing Little Mermaid socks, and those make me pretty happy.
Current Mood
Exhausted. Three days of painting, tiling, and plumbing wears one out.
Current Excitement
It looks like Hubster and I both have real, permanent jobs. This is beyond exciting and warrants a full post later.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Busy Being Busy
I used to use one word to describe myself. Busy.
That word doesn't actually tell people anything about me. No insight into my personality, my interests, my profession. But oh, how I loved that word. I got some strange high from being busy. I'd back as many things into a day as I could and the more I did each day, the better I felt about myself. The longer the check list, the more items crossed off the list, the more amazing I was. I relished in being busy, as if to do lists and chores made me super woman.
Looking at it now, being busy never actually made me happy. It was just another attempt to be that mythical super mom, an attempt that was making me stressed, worn down, and unable to fully participate or enjoy the things that actually mattered.
These days, I'm trying to pare down the being busy just for busyness sake. It's actually kind of hard.
If at the end of the day, if I haven't done something that feels "productive" I feel a little panicky. I can't have just spent a whole day reading a novel and watching Netflix with my kids. I must do something useful! So I'll rush to do a load of laundry, or clean off the bathroom counters, or tidy the kids' rooms. Just so I don't feel that the day has "been a waste."
Which is ridiculous, because I love reading and my boys love watching TV with me, snuggled up on our family room couch together. Those things are valuable, useful, and important.
So I'm working on not taking on too much, not adding more things to my schedule, just for the appearance of staying busy. I keep telling myself it's perfectly fine to not be busy.
That's not to be saying I won't doing projects. Hubster always despairs when I start a new project, such as reorganizing the photo gallery wall in the living room, or repainting my closet, or a big craft project with the kids. Because it's not like we don't have enough on our plates without me adding more things. But I'm doing those things because I actually enjoy them, not just to keep busy.
I feel that this is a lesson that has taken me way too long to learn. That I don't need to be busy to be happy, or successful, or meaningful. I just need to enjoy what I'm doing. I'm going to work on being involved, not being busy.
It's time to pick another word to describe myself.
That word doesn't actually tell people anything about me. No insight into my personality, my interests, my profession. But oh, how I loved that word. I got some strange high from being busy. I'd back as many things into a day as I could and the more I did each day, the better I felt about myself. The longer the check list, the more items crossed off the list, the more amazing I was. I relished in being busy, as if to do lists and chores made me super woman.
Looking at it now, being busy never actually made me happy. It was just another attempt to be that mythical super mom, an attempt that was making me stressed, worn down, and unable to fully participate or enjoy the things that actually mattered.
These days, I'm trying to pare down the being busy just for busyness sake. It's actually kind of hard.
If at the end of the day, if I haven't done something that feels "productive" I feel a little panicky. I can't have just spent a whole day reading a novel and watching Netflix with my kids. I must do something useful! So I'll rush to do a load of laundry, or clean off the bathroom counters, or tidy the kids' rooms. Just so I don't feel that the day has "been a waste."
Which is ridiculous, because I love reading and my boys love watching TV with me, snuggled up on our family room couch together. Those things are valuable, useful, and important.
So I'm working on not taking on too much, not adding more things to my schedule, just for the appearance of staying busy. I keep telling myself it's perfectly fine to not be busy.
That's not to be saying I won't doing projects. Hubster always despairs when I start a new project, such as reorganizing the photo gallery wall in the living room, or repainting my closet, or a big craft project with the kids. Because it's not like we don't have enough on our plates without me adding more things. But I'm doing those things because I actually enjoy them, not just to keep busy.
I feel that this is a lesson that has taken me way too long to learn. That I don't need to be busy to be happy, or successful, or meaningful. I just need to enjoy what I'm doing. I'm going to work on being involved, not being busy.
It's time to pick another word to describe myself.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Early Holiday Start
I used to be one of those people that absolutely refused to do anything Christmas related until after Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving deserved its fair share of attention and shouldn't be overshadowed by Christmas.
And then I started to buy wrapping paper before Thanksgiving, because I was worried my favorite patterns would be gone if I waited.
And then I started to get a couple gifts.
And it's pretty much just snowballed from there.
My goal each year is to have all my Christmas shopping done before Thanksgiving. I use all sorts of rationalization, such as concerns about longer shipping times over the holidays, items selling out, the crowds at stores as Christmas approaches, and that not having to shop during December allows me to focus on all the other aspects of the holidays.
Hubster is not nearly the Christmas fanatic that I am. He puts up with my constant barrage of gift ideas and plans in exchange for me not listening to Christmas music until December 1, and not putting up any decorations until after Thanksgiving.
Participating in Christmas activities before Thanksgiving used to seem like such a big deal But now, half way through November, I'm seeing lights going up and fully decorated trees through house windows. Maybe it's just getting harder to resist when stores have their Christmas sections up before Halloween, instead of just before Thanksgiving.
With how much I love Christmas, I'm honestly not upset. I'm happy to have that beautiful holiday feeling a few extra weeks.
Is anyone else all ready for Christmas, or are you still waiting until after Thanksgiving?
And then I started to buy wrapping paper before Thanksgiving, because I was worried my favorite patterns would be gone if I waited.
And then I started to get a couple gifts.
And it's pretty much just snowballed from there.
My goal each year is to have all my Christmas shopping done before Thanksgiving. I use all sorts of rationalization, such as concerns about longer shipping times over the holidays, items selling out, the crowds at stores as Christmas approaches, and that not having to shop during December allows me to focus on all the other aspects of the holidays.
Hubster is not nearly the Christmas fanatic that I am. He puts up with my constant barrage of gift ideas and plans in exchange for me not listening to Christmas music until December 1, and not putting up any decorations until after Thanksgiving.
Participating in Christmas activities before Thanksgiving used to seem like such a big deal But now, half way through November, I'm seeing lights going up and fully decorated trees through house windows. Maybe it's just getting harder to resist when stores have their Christmas sections up before Halloween, instead of just before Thanksgiving.
With how much I love Christmas, I'm honestly not upset. I'm happy to have that beautiful holiday feeling a few extra weeks.
Is anyone else all ready for Christmas, or are you still waiting until after Thanksgiving?
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Running Shoes
My boys go through shoes at an almost unnerving rate. It doesn't matter the brand, the type, or the quality. Without fail, within 3 months, their shoese are falling to pieces. Holes at the toes, soles coming off, stitching unraveling, falling to pieces.
So, this weekend, right on schedule, I was shoe shopping with my boys.
Monkey insists on velcro, because stopping to tie shoe laces apparently slows him down and cramps his style.
We finally found a pair of sturdy looking, gym appropriate, acceptable style and color, velcro securing shoes.
As Monkey tried them on, his face lit up.
"These are perfect!"
He quickly slipped the second shoe on and started running laps around the display shelves.
"I'm so much faster, Mom! Look how fast I can run in these! I'm even walking faster! I can't wait to go home and run on the treadmill and see how fast I can go now!"
I remember being a kid and having that same feeling, being so sure that my new shoes made me able to run faster, jump high, and be all around amazing.
To be completely honest, I'm not sure I'm over that feeling.
When I replaced my running shoes, I had that same feeling. These shoes were awesome, the cushions and fit were amazing. How could I not run faster in these shoes?
I got the same feeling when I bought a pair of running socks. They were padded in all the right places, didn't bunch up in my shoes at all, and were breathable, so my feet were never sweaty. Of course I would run faster with these great socks!
When I got my compression running pants, yep, I got it, the same "now I can run faster" feeling.
As it turns out, despite all that fancy running gear, I'm still slogging through the miles at the same turtle stampede pace. Not one piece of running gear that I added took any time away.
Do I feel better running? Yes. My feet don't hurt or get sweaty. My running pants actually fit and I'm not stopping to adjust things mid run. The sweating wicking material is great for so many reasons. But am I faster? Not at all.
But am I going to tell Monkey that his super cool, awesome, new shoes won't make him run faster? Never!
So, this weekend, right on schedule, I was shoe shopping with my boys.
Monkey insists on velcro, because stopping to tie shoe laces apparently slows him down and cramps his style.
We finally found a pair of sturdy looking, gym appropriate, acceptable style and color, velcro securing shoes.
As Monkey tried them on, his face lit up.
"These are perfect!"
He quickly slipped the second shoe on and started running laps around the display shelves.
"I'm so much faster, Mom! Look how fast I can run in these! I'm even walking faster! I can't wait to go home and run on the treadmill and see how fast I can go now!"
I remember being a kid and having that same feeling, being so sure that my new shoes made me able to run faster, jump high, and be all around amazing.
To be completely honest, I'm not sure I'm over that feeling.
When I replaced my running shoes, I had that same feeling. These shoes were awesome, the cushions and fit were amazing. How could I not run faster in these shoes?
I got the same feeling when I bought a pair of running socks. They were padded in all the right places, didn't bunch up in my shoes at all, and were breathable, so my feet were never sweaty. Of course I would run faster with these great socks!
When I got my compression running pants, yep, I got it, the same "now I can run faster" feeling.
As it turns out, despite all that fancy running gear, I'm still slogging through the miles at the same turtle stampede pace. Not one piece of running gear that I added took any time away.
Do I feel better running? Yes. My feet don't hurt or get sweaty. My running pants actually fit and I'm not stopping to adjust things mid run. The sweating wicking material is great for so many reasons. But am I faster? Not at all.
But am I going to tell Monkey that his super cool, awesome, new shoes won't make him run faster? Never!
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Still Busy, But Still Here
Three times a week, I go running. This hour in the chilly afternoons is rapidly becoming the only time I have to myself. Which isn't even accurate, since I run with Duck in the jogging stroller. But since Duck loves this, and spends the miles cooing to himself and then napping, it is uninterrupted mental time for me.
I use this time to recenter myself. Think about how things are going at home, at work, with my friends, with my family. I think about weak areas and develop solutions.
I compose blog posts. Things I want to say. Posts about things I've learned while running, things I've learned in 11 years of parenting, about the crazy squirrels in my backyard.
This weekend, as my feet started moving and my mind starting writing, I suddenly realized how few of these mental blog posts were actually making it from my brain to the screen. And by few, I mean none. I couldn't remember the last time I had written, actually written. Not just updated about the fun activities we were doing as a family or how fast Duck was growing, but keyed out a heart felt post.
I had a small anxiety attack. Was my blog dead?
I hadn't written about my second 5K, I hadn't written about Halloween, I hadn't written about my job, or Hubster's ongoing adventures in dental school. I hadn't written about anything really. Had I let my blog that I had loved and nurtured for years, had I let it die?
Blogging has rapidly been changing. There are new ways to follow blogs, new ways to read blogs, new ways to stay connected and new ways to comment. I understand none of them. I've seen my traffic and my comments dwindle just as rapidly as my postings (which is to be expected.) As this blog is not a source of income and purely for my own enjoyment (and hopefully a little for yours), I haven't invested heavily in keeping up with new technologies and new platforms and new formats. This is pretty much the same place it was when I typed out my first awkward post 5 years ago.
When I graduated residency, I thought I would have oodles of time, mountains of time, more time than I knew what to do with. After all, I would be working 4 days a week, taking no call, working no weekends. I was going to organize my house! Craft! Read! Blog!
Instead, life has a way of filling every moment, seeping into every new minute it can get, like tide waters cresting a river bank. There was no extra time.
All that extra time I thought I would have became filled with meals and homework and running and story time with Duck and laundry and grocery shopping and vacuuming and parent teacher conferences and the generalized attempts at keeping my head above water while trying to enjoy the ride.
Work has kept me busier than I expected. Covering all the things that Hubster used to do so that he can focus on dental school has kept me busier than I expected. Three kids keep me busier than even I could have imagined.
In reality, this is just a long winded way to reassure myself that this blog isn't dead. I may have only posted once or twice a month for the last year, but that doesn't I still don't have things to say. I may not say them as frequently or to as many people. But it was never about that. I wrote for a year before getting my first follower, and at no point during that time was I discouraged because of the lack of an audience. I'm going to continue to write for the same reason I started. To empty my brain. To capture the memories. To tell a story.
To enjoy the ride.
I use this time to recenter myself. Think about how things are going at home, at work, with my friends, with my family. I think about weak areas and develop solutions.
I compose blog posts. Things I want to say. Posts about things I've learned while running, things I've learned in 11 years of parenting, about the crazy squirrels in my backyard.
This weekend, as my feet started moving and my mind starting writing, I suddenly realized how few of these mental blog posts were actually making it from my brain to the screen. And by few, I mean none. I couldn't remember the last time I had written, actually written. Not just updated about the fun activities we were doing as a family or how fast Duck was growing, but keyed out a heart felt post.
I had a small anxiety attack. Was my blog dead?
I hadn't written about my second 5K, I hadn't written about Halloween, I hadn't written about my job, or Hubster's ongoing adventures in dental school. I hadn't written about anything really. Had I let my blog that I had loved and nurtured for years, had I let it die?
Blogging has rapidly been changing. There are new ways to follow blogs, new ways to read blogs, new ways to stay connected and new ways to comment. I understand none of them. I've seen my traffic and my comments dwindle just as rapidly as my postings (which is to be expected.) As this blog is not a source of income and purely for my own enjoyment (and hopefully a little for yours), I haven't invested heavily in keeping up with new technologies and new platforms and new formats. This is pretty much the same place it was when I typed out my first awkward post 5 years ago.
When I graduated residency, I thought I would have oodles of time, mountains of time, more time than I knew what to do with. After all, I would be working 4 days a week, taking no call, working no weekends. I was going to organize my house! Craft! Read! Blog!
Instead, life has a way of filling every moment, seeping into every new minute it can get, like tide waters cresting a river bank. There was no extra time.
All that extra time I thought I would have became filled with meals and homework and running and story time with Duck and laundry and grocery shopping and vacuuming and parent teacher conferences and the generalized attempts at keeping my head above water while trying to enjoy the ride.
Work has kept me busier than I expected. Covering all the things that Hubster used to do so that he can focus on dental school has kept me busier than I expected. Three kids keep me busier than even I could have imagined.
In reality, this is just a long winded way to reassure myself that this blog isn't dead. I may have only posted once or twice a month for the last year, but that doesn't I still don't have things to say. I may not say them as frequently or to as many people. But it was never about that. I wrote for a year before getting my first follower, and at no point during that time was I discouraged because of the lack of an audience. I'm going to continue to write for the same reason I started. To empty my brain. To capture the memories. To tell a story.
To enjoy the ride.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Artistic Reminiscings
When Hubster and I were dating, I remember this particular evening we were leaving a movie late at night, and walking through the parking garage to our car. I excitedly pointed out the pattern of shadows each light was casting over the cement ceiling, mentioning how Art Deco it appeared. At the time, pre-Hubster said that is was things like that that made him love me.
I'm not exactly sure that was true or if he was just trying to get me to marry him. He also said things like this when I dragged him all over down town on public transportation so that I could take abstract architectural photos for my photography class.
Now, even in my 30s, I get very excited and occasionally even emotional over seemingly small, random things.
I'll pull over on the side of the road to take pictures of colorful homes (trying desperately not to look like a creepy stalker while doing so.) I have rushed home post-call and dragged my children out of bed at dawn to show them ice covered trees.
On a recent trip out west, I was connecting through Chicago's O'Hare Airport. On my quest to find Garrett Popcorn to take home to my boys, I passed through the airport's neon light tunnel, an underground connection between two terminals, the ceiling of which is covered in rainbow hued neon lights. Descending the escalator, I was transported back to middle school, when I had taken my first flight as part of a history trip to Washington, D. C. We had also connected through O'Hare on that trip and walked through that same tunnel. Actually, we ran through the tunnel, because we were about to miss our connecting flight (and no chaperon wants to be stranded in the Midwest with 15 8th graders.) My deeply artistic 14 year old self loved that neon musical tunnel and I found that my 31 year old self was no different.
.JPG)
Except now I have a smart phone to capture images instead of a cheap 35 mm disposable camera that ended up having a scratch or some other defect that left a large orange streak across every photo.
Moments like this make me grateful that not every part of me has become jaded by the stack of bills on the kitchen counter, grim news on the radio, and unrealistic Pinterest expectations. I can still find moments to appreciate the beauty in our world.
The way the dew sparkles on the leaves during my morning run. The indent of Duck's ear on my arm after I have rocked him to sleep. My airplane rising above the rain storm to reveal an expanse of clouds appearing thick enough to fulfill that childhood wish of running across them.
I used to consider myself such an artist. During high school and parts of college, I took classes in photography, watercolor, pastels, writing, egg dyeing and felting. I carried about enormous art boards with charcoal still life's clipped to them. I wore paint splattered jeans and bohemian embroidered tops. I attended poetry readings and wore my hair in messy braids.
I don't paint anymore. Not unless covering up stubborn smudges on the stair walls with left over Sherwin-Williams beige paint count. Which it doesn't. My photographs are of baby feet and silly faces instead of abstract angles of buildings.
But give me the chance and I'll gush over the pattern of the clouds in the evening or the roll of the corn covered land. The artist might be buried under loads of laundry and drowned out by pager beeps, but she's still there.
I'm not exactly sure that was true or if he was just trying to get me to marry him. He also said things like this when I dragged him all over down town on public transportation so that I could take abstract architectural photos for my photography class.
Now, even in my 30s, I get very excited and occasionally even emotional over seemingly small, random things.
I'll pull over on the side of the road to take pictures of colorful homes (trying desperately not to look like a creepy stalker while doing so.) I have rushed home post-call and dragged my children out of bed at dawn to show them ice covered trees.
On a recent trip out west, I was connecting through Chicago's O'Hare Airport. On my quest to find Garrett Popcorn to take home to my boys, I passed through the airport's neon light tunnel, an underground connection between two terminals, the ceiling of which is covered in rainbow hued neon lights. Descending the escalator, I was transported back to middle school, when I had taken my first flight as part of a history trip to Washington, D. C. We had also connected through O'Hare on that trip and walked through that same tunnel. Actually, we ran through the tunnel, because we were about to miss our connecting flight (and no chaperon wants to be stranded in the Midwest with 15 8th graders.) My deeply artistic 14 year old self loved that neon musical tunnel and I found that my 31 year old self was no different.
.JPG)
Except now I have a smart phone to capture images instead of a cheap 35 mm disposable camera that ended up having a scratch or some other defect that left a large orange streak across every photo.
Moments like this make me grateful that not every part of me has become jaded by the stack of bills on the kitchen counter, grim news on the radio, and unrealistic Pinterest expectations. I can still find moments to appreciate the beauty in our world.
The way the dew sparkles on the leaves during my morning run. The indent of Duck's ear on my arm after I have rocked him to sleep. My airplane rising above the rain storm to reveal an expanse of clouds appearing thick enough to fulfill that childhood wish of running across them.
I used to consider myself such an artist. During high school and parts of college, I took classes in photography, watercolor, pastels, writing, egg dyeing and felting. I carried about enormous art boards with charcoal still life's clipped to them. I wore paint splattered jeans and bohemian embroidered tops. I attended poetry readings and wore my hair in messy braids.
I don't paint anymore. Not unless covering up stubborn smudges on the stair walls with left over Sherwin-Williams beige paint count. Which it doesn't. My photographs are of baby feet and silly faces instead of abstract angles of buildings.
But give me the chance and I'll gush over the pattern of the clouds in the evening or the roll of the corn covered land. The artist might be buried under loads of laundry and drowned out by pager beeps, but she's still there.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Sincerely
Dear Mini Van,
I know that I've spent many years ridiculing you and how you represent the stereotypical large family, with a crazy stay at home soccer mom, a back windshield plastered with a stick figure family, and toys falling out of every door. Previously, with my two kids, I was snobby about my non-mini van family. Now, with everyone all cramped together, car seats galore, and climbing over the seats and each other, you sure are looking good.
Sincerely,
New mother of THREE
______________________________
Dear 49ers,
Congratulations on making it to the Super Bowl. It's been a very long time. (Although I would have loved this moment even more if you had stuck with Alex Smith.) Now please, please, please, for Hubster's sake (and by extension, all of ours), continue your perfect Super Bowl record and win tonight.
Sincerely,
A fan by marriage
_______________________________
Dear SUV, DVD player, desk top computer, oven, iPhone charger, garage door opener, hot water heater, and kitchen chair,
Please stop breaking.
Sincerely,
Homeowner without unlimited income
________________________________
Dear residency,
We've spent a lot of time together over the last four years. It's been a rocky relationship. I'm sure that at some point, I'll be able to look back and realize all the things you did for me. That's I'm a better person because of you. Today is not that day. It's not me, it's you. You can't get done with fast enough.
Sincerely,
Counting down the days
________________________________
Dear Duck,
You are getting cuter every day. Could you just not grow up quite so fast?
Sincerely,
Your absolutely smitten mother
_________________________________
Dear Internet,
Could you please stop having so many wonderful things on you? Boards are in July, and that study book isn't going to read itself. But with every thing on The Onion, and Slate, and Facebook, and blogs and Pinterest, and YouTube, it may have to.
Sincerely,
Someone who clearly isn't studying right now
___________________________________
Dear Baby Fat,
I hate you.
Sincerely,
Someone who doesn't even remember her pre-pregnancy body
I know that I've spent many years ridiculing you and how you represent the stereotypical large family, with a crazy stay at home soccer mom, a back windshield plastered with a stick figure family, and toys falling out of every door. Previously, with my two kids, I was snobby about my non-mini van family. Now, with everyone all cramped together, car seats galore, and climbing over the seats and each other, you sure are looking good.
Sincerely,
New mother of THREE
______________________________
Dear 49ers,
Congratulations on making it to the Super Bowl. It's been a very long time. (Although I would have loved this moment even more if you had stuck with Alex Smith.) Now please, please, please, for Hubster's sake (and by extension, all of ours), continue your perfect Super Bowl record and win tonight.
Sincerely,
A fan by marriage
_______________________________
Dear SUV, DVD player, desk top computer, oven, iPhone charger, garage door opener, hot water heater, and kitchen chair,
Please stop breaking.
Sincerely,
Homeowner without unlimited income
________________________________
Dear residency,
We've spent a lot of time together over the last four years. It's been a rocky relationship. I'm sure that at some point, I'll be able to look back and realize all the things you did for me. That's I'm a better person because of you. Today is not that day. It's not me, it's you. You can't get done with fast enough.
Sincerely,
Counting down the days
________________________________
Dear Duck,
You are getting cuter every day. Could you just not grow up quite so fast?
Sincerely,
Your absolutely smitten mother
_________________________________
Dear Internet,
Could you please stop having so many wonderful things on you? Boards are in July, and that study book isn't going to read itself. But with every thing on The Onion, and Slate, and Facebook, and blogs and Pinterest, and YouTube, it may have to.
Sincerely,
Someone who clearly isn't studying right now
___________________________________
Dear Baby Fat,
I hate you.
Sincerely,
Someone who doesn't even remember her pre-pregnancy body
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Snapshots
Sometimes, when life is moving at neck break speed, there doesn't seem to be time to savor all the beauty that each day can offer.
I want to luxuriate in each moment, but between all the projects and deadlines and laundry, there is only time to grab a snapshot.
Thank goodness for technology, which makes gathering those snapshots a little bit easier. Then, when there is a quiet moment, I can take a deep breath and review the moments that passed in a blur.
The constantly changing view from here. My belly is big enough to obscure my view of my feet, but I'm enjoying the cooler weather and the chance to wear my maternity sweaters.
Watching my alma mater play football. Granted, they went on to lose this game (and this week's game as well), but for over a glorious quarter and a half, my beloved Utes were leading a top 25 team.
A rainy afternoon downtown with my boys. A trip to the library, passing all the painted benches that line the pedestrian shopping mall.
A sneak peak of the nursery. The nursery is nearly complete. I'm in love with this room and its future occupant.
Sun rise as seen from the hospital. I'm seeing this view more than I would like lately. Sipping my post-call latte, looking out at the sun rising over the steeples of downtown. These few seconds of quiet and daybreak are nearly as energizing as caffeine.
I want to luxuriate in each moment, but between all the projects and deadlines and laundry, there is only time to grab a snapshot.
Thank goodness for technology, which makes gathering those snapshots a little bit easier. Then, when there is a quiet moment, I can take a deep breath and review the moments that passed in a blur.
The constantly changing view from here. My belly is big enough to obscure my view of my feet, but I'm enjoying the cooler weather and the chance to wear my maternity sweaters.
Watching my alma mater play football. Granted, they went on to lose this game (and this week's game as well), but for over a glorious quarter and a half, my beloved Utes were leading a top 25 team.
A rainy afternoon downtown with my boys. A trip to the library, passing all the painted benches that line the pedestrian shopping mall.
A sneak peak of the nursery. The nursery is nearly complete. I'm in love with this room and its future occupant.
Sun rise as seen from the hospital. I'm seeing this view more than I would like lately. Sipping my post-call latte, looking out at the sun rising over the steeples of downtown. These few seconds of quiet and daybreak are nearly as energizing as caffeine.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Epiphany
Sitting down to dinner with my family, I suddenly had an epiphany. It hit me so out of the blue that I stopped eating and put down my fork. I stared at Hubster.
He looked at my somewhat suspiciously. I must have had the same look that I get when I tell him we should go on a last minute trip to the city or I would like to start repainting the house. "What?"
"Oh my gosh. I know what's wrong with me!"
For several weeks, I just haven't felt like myself. Yeah, yeah, I know that I'm now 31 weeks pregnant. having your feet swell up, loosing the ability to pick things off the ground, and needing to sleep with three pillows under the mattress to combat the heartburn can have a way of making a person not feel like themselves. But that isn't what I mean.
I've been much more tired that usual, more tired that I can simply explain away with baby growing. I've been whiny, short tempered, easily distracted, having a hard time sleeping. I haven't felt like myself. But I was only semi-aware of it and hadn't given it much thought, other than to think that the change of seasons might not be agreeing with me.
"What do you mean: what's wrong with you?" Hubster is waiting for a medical diagnosis, like the time I was convinced I had a brain tumor in medical school.
"I'm stressed!" I piped, almost cheerful that I have arrived at an explanation for my poor behavior.
Hubster puts down his fork and stares at me. "I know. Seriously? You didn't think about this before?" He laughs at me and keeps eating his tortellini.
Lately, I may have bitten off more that I can chew.
First off, I decided that the best thing I could do would be to get all my hospital calls done for Duck arrives at the end of November. Granted, I can't get them all done, since I still have a month of ICU, a set of nights, and an OB shift that has to be done in the spring. But other than that, I was determined to get as much call as I could out of the way. Easier to take call pregnant than with a new baby at home, was my thinking. I aggressively traded with my fellow residents, front loading my schedule as much as I could.
The end result: I have worked 8 out of the last 9 weekends, and am still scheduled to work 5 out of the next 6. And while I still think that taking my call pre-baby is a good thing, I think I failed to recognize how hard it would be. I've been physically and mentally run down, and not having weekends to recoup from difficult work weeks.
I've also taken on a lot of baby related projects: painting the nursery, making a quilt, sorting through boxes of 6 year old baby supplies, finding a home for everything that used to reside in the now nursery. Granted, no one is forcing me to hand paint trees on the nursery wall. No one is forcing me to cut dozens of green, blue, and orange quilt squares. Hubster thought the plain blue walls would be fine. My mother said it would be perfectly acceptable to forgo the handmade baby quilt this time around. But I would have none of it. To not finish would be to admit defeat, and that will not happen.
I've also be reorganizing almost the entire house. Maybe it's nesting, maybe it's just neurosis. But I feel like I can't walk by a closet without yanking the door open and starting to sort through everything. My bedroom is now full of boxes needing to go to Goodwill.
And let's not mention the fact the Hubster and I have started to remodel the basement. Since our office/guest room is now a nursery, we need somewhere for all our books and somewhere for the occasional guest to stay. So naturally, we turned to the unfinished basement. We have drawn plans, called for plumbing and electrical quotes, bought piles of lumber (with the intention ofdoing it ourselves Hubster doing the work), and filed for a building permit.
I'm half way through my permanent licensing paperwork.
I'm attempting to study for my licensing boards.
I'm still trying to keep on top of the laundry/meal preparation/housework/personal hygiene.
So I guess I've been a little busy.
I just honestly didn't realize until a few days ago that I was stressed about being so busy.
I have great plans that this next month I'm going to take some time for myself, get a massage, get a pedicure, get my wayward hair cut.
Right after I finish packing a hospital bag, buying the remainder of baby essentials, and repainting the master bedroom.
He looked at my somewhat suspiciously. I must have had the same look that I get when I tell him we should go on a last minute trip to the city or I would like to start repainting the house. "What?"
"Oh my gosh. I know what's wrong with me!"
For several weeks, I just haven't felt like myself. Yeah, yeah, I know that I'm now 31 weeks pregnant. having your feet swell up, loosing the ability to pick things off the ground, and needing to sleep with three pillows under the mattress to combat the heartburn can have a way of making a person not feel like themselves. But that isn't what I mean.
I've been much more tired that usual, more tired that I can simply explain away with baby growing. I've been whiny, short tempered, easily distracted, having a hard time sleeping. I haven't felt like myself. But I was only semi-aware of it and hadn't given it much thought, other than to think that the change of seasons might not be agreeing with me.
"What do you mean: what's wrong with you?" Hubster is waiting for a medical diagnosis, like the time I was convinced I had a brain tumor in medical school.
"I'm stressed!" I piped, almost cheerful that I have arrived at an explanation for my poor behavior.
Hubster puts down his fork and stares at me. "I know. Seriously? You didn't think about this before?" He laughs at me and keeps eating his tortellini.
Lately, I may have bitten off more that I can chew.
First off, I decided that the best thing I could do would be to get all my hospital calls done for Duck arrives at the end of November. Granted, I can't get them all done, since I still have a month of ICU, a set of nights, and an OB shift that has to be done in the spring. But other than that, I was determined to get as much call as I could out of the way. Easier to take call pregnant than with a new baby at home, was my thinking. I aggressively traded with my fellow residents, front loading my schedule as much as I could.
The end result: I have worked 8 out of the last 9 weekends, and am still scheduled to work 5 out of the next 6. And while I still think that taking my call pre-baby is a good thing, I think I failed to recognize how hard it would be. I've been physically and mentally run down, and not having weekends to recoup from difficult work weeks.
I've also taken on a lot of baby related projects: painting the nursery, making a quilt, sorting through boxes of 6 year old baby supplies, finding a home for everything that used to reside in the now nursery. Granted, no one is forcing me to hand paint trees on the nursery wall. No one is forcing me to cut dozens of green, blue, and orange quilt squares. Hubster thought the plain blue walls would be fine. My mother said it would be perfectly acceptable to forgo the handmade baby quilt this time around. But I would have none of it. To not finish would be to admit defeat, and that will not happen.
I've also be reorganizing almost the entire house. Maybe it's nesting, maybe it's just neurosis. But I feel like I can't walk by a closet without yanking the door open and starting to sort through everything. My bedroom is now full of boxes needing to go to Goodwill.
And let's not mention the fact the Hubster and I have started to remodel the basement. Since our office/guest room is now a nursery, we need somewhere for all our books and somewhere for the occasional guest to stay. So naturally, we turned to the unfinished basement. We have drawn plans, called for plumbing and electrical quotes, bought piles of lumber (with the intention of
I'm half way through my permanent licensing paperwork.
I'm attempting to study for my licensing boards.
I'm still trying to keep on top of the laundry/meal preparation/housework/personal hygiene.
So I guess I've been a little busy.
I just honestly didn't realize until a few days ago that I was stressed about being so busy.
I have great plans that this next month I'm going to take some time for myself, get a massage, get a pedicure, get my wayward hair cut.
Right after I finish packing a hospital bag, buying the remainder of baby essentials, and repainting the master bedroom.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
A Few of My Favorite Things
I feel like I'm spending most of my free thoughts perseverating over summer being gone and now it will snow.
But then I remind myself that there will be a couple months of autumn between now and then, and that there are still many things to make me happy.
Some of my favorite things lately have been found in my kitchen.
Honeycrisp apples.
I am convinced that there is no better apple on earth. They are crisp, sweet, with just enough tang to make them interesting. Not to mention they are beautiful, with their yellow speckled, red blushed skin. During the fall, we get our Honeycrisp apples from a local orchard. After the local crop is gone, I continue to buy them from the grocery store, clear until their price shoots up in February and I have to go back to settling for Gala apples. You should definitely check out your local orchard/store to see if you can also start enjoying the absolutely perfection of this apple.
And what better to go with apples than my apple slicer?
Hubster got this for me last year, and I love it. It makes baking things like apple pie, apple crisp, and apple turnovers so much easier. Or just slicing apples for snacks. Monkey loves slicing his own apples with this (and then eating the long peel that comes off.)
Another absolute favorite thing is this vintage kitchen scale that Hubster bought for me.
I saw this in an antique store over a year ago, and kept kicking myself for not buying it. It's not that I have an overwhelming practical need for a kitchen scale. It's just that I loved the look and the color and the idea of having one. When Hubster's mother visited last month, they were antique shopping together and came across the same scale, still sitting a little room of our favorite antique store. So Hubster bought it for me. Because even though he doesn't understand why I would want a rusty old scale that may never serve a practical purpose, he loves me that much.
Now the scale holds a pot of ivy and keeps the Mason jars by my sink company.
And it makes me happy every time I see it.
But then I remind myself that there will be a couple months of autumn between now and then, and that there are still many things to make me happy.
Some of my favorite things lately have been found in my kitchen.
Honeycrisp apples.
I am convinced that there is no better apple on earth. They are crisp, sweet, with just enough tang to make them interesting. Not to mention they are beautiful, with their yellow speckled, red blushed skin. During the fall, we get our Honeycrisp apples from a local orchard. After the local crop is gone, I continue to buy them from the grocery store, clear until their price shoots up in February and I have to go back to settling for Gala apples. You should definitely check out your local orchard/store to see if you can also start enjoying the absolutely perfection of this apple.
And what better to go with apples than my apple slicer?
Hubster got this for me last year, and I love it. It makes baking things like apple pie, apple crisp, and apple turnovers so much easier. Or just slicing apples for snacks. Monkey loves slicing his own apples with this (and then eating the long peel that comes off.)
Another absolute favorite thing is this vintage kitchen scale that Hubster bought for me.
I saw this in an antique store over a year ago, and kept kicking myself for not buying it. It's not that I have an overwhelming practical need for a kitchen scale. It's just that I loved the look and the color and the idea of having one. When Hubster's mother visited last month, they were antique shopping together and came across the same scale, still sitting a little room of our favorite antique store. So Hubster bought it for me. Because even though he doesn't understand why I would want a rusty old scale that may never serve a practical purpose, he loves me that much.
And it makes me happy every time I see it.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Currently: March
Current Book
Nothing. I am reading nothing. I just finished The Hunger Games trilogy again, and liked it even better this time around. But now I don't know what to read. What are people reading these days? What is the next great book, the next The Help, the next Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the next Hunger Games? What are you reading? I need to know.
Current Shame-Inducing Guilty Pleasure
Redoing my closet. I am making my little walk-in closet the most girly closet ever.
Current Drink
Water with lemon.
Current Songs
"Rolling in the Deep" by Adele
"Eyes Open" by Taylor Swift
Current Album
21 by Adele: I might be a little late on this bandwagon, but I adore her voice.
Current Wish-List
To get my blog a make-over. If you are visiting my actual blog instead of just Reader, you may have noticed that my blog is now just a boring standard template. Not that it was amazing before, but not it's even worse. If any of you know a great, very affordable blog designer, I would love to know of them.
Current Needs
To find a job. I really need to figure out what I want to do when I'm done with residency.
Current Triumph
Running. I haven't run in years. But I've started the Couch-to-5K program, and I feel great!
Current Favorite Film
I'm hoping it's going to be Hunger Games.
Current TV Show
New seasons of Survivor and Amazing Race.
Current Indulgence
My mani-pedi. I love my pretty toes.
Current Outfit
T-shirts! It's so warm outside these days, my sweaters are no more.
Current Banes of My Existence
My current schedule makes it so I see my boys for less than a hour each day, in the morning before they leave for school. I miss family dinner. I can't wait for a more normal schedule.
Current Excitement
Going to see Hunger Games! I'm going to see it tomorrow, and am so excited. I even have a Hunger Games shirt I plan on wearing (partly just to embarrass Hubster and my friends.)
Also, I am going out to dinner with Hubster and friends before that. It's been months since I've gone on something that resembled a date.
Current Mood
Is "organizational" a mood? Because that's what I feel right now. Like I must organize everything!
Current Photo
I took this photo in the OR a while ago. Just another typical day.
Nothing. I am reading nothing. I just finished The Hunger Games trilogy again, and liked it even better this time around. But now I don't know what to read. What are people reading these days? What is the next great book, the next The Help, the next Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the next Hunger Games? What are you reading? I need to know.
Current Shame-Inducing Guilty Pleasure
Redoing my closet. I am making my little walk-in closet the most girly closet ever.
Current Drink
Water with lemon.
Current Songs
"Rolling in the Deep" by Adele
"Eyes Open" by Taylor Swift
Current Album
21 by Adele: I might be a little late on this bandwagon, but I adore her voice.
Current Wish-List
To get my blog a make-over. If you are visiting my actual blog instead of just Reader, you may have noticed that my blog is now just a boring standard template. Not that it was amazing before, but not it's even worse. If any of you know a great, very affordable blog designer, I would love to know of them.
Current Needs
To find a job. I really need to figure out what I want to do when I'm done with residency.
Current Triumph
Running. I haven't run in years. But I've started the Couch-to-5K program, and I feel great!
Current Favorite Film
I'm hoping it's going to be Hunger Games.
Current TV Show
New seasons of Survivor and Amazing Race.
Current Indulgence
My mani-pedi. I love my pretty toes.
Current Outfit
T-shirts! It's so warm outside these days, my sweaters are no more.
Current Banes of My Existence
My current schedule makes it so I see my boys for less than a hour each day, in the morning before they leave for school. I miss family dinner. I can't wait for a more normal schedule.
Current Excitement
Going to see Hunger Games! I'm going to see it tomorrow, and am so excited. I even have a Hunger Games shirt I plan on wearing (partly just to embarrass Hubster and my friends.)
Also, I am going out to dinner with Hubster and friends before that. It's been months since I've gone on something that resembled a date.
Current Mood
Is "organizational" a mood? Because that's what I feel right now. Like I must organize everything!
Current Photo
I took this photo in the OR a while ago. Just another typical day.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
What It Says About Me: The Purse
As we were getting ready to run errands over the weekend, I remembered two more items we needed to pick up at the store. I called to Hubster in the other room to write contact solution and olive oil on the list. When he asked where the list was, I told him it was in my purse. A few quiet minutes later and Hubster tromps upstairs.
"Which grocery list would you like me to add it to? You have 8 grocery lists in your purse."
Maybe I should clean my purse out a little more often.
Many months ago, I wrote about both my bedside table and my refrigerator and what they say about me. I had always meant to follow that up with a post about my purse, what with it being how you tell a lot about a woman and all.
The 8 grocery lists made me decide that now would be a good time to do that. Although I'm not exactly sure I like what my purse is saying about me these days.
This is my purse. I can't remember where I bought it, but it wasn't very expensive. The green makes me happy.
I decided to do this the honest way. I took my purse, unzipped all the compartments and then shook it out onto my bedroom floor.
This is what my purse is saying about me. It needs it's mouth washed with soap.
After organizing my purse, I found that it contained:
4 pens
3 pencils
1 pair of socks
Pack of gum
2 Chick-fil-A mints
Tic-Tacs
Ice Breaker mints
1 nearly empty bag of craisins
Meal replacement shake
1 fruit snack package
1 package of Twizzlers
2 Veggie Tales CDs
Tub of wet wipes
Pack of Kleenex
Moist towelette
Finger nail clippers
Floss
Chap stick/lip stick/gloss
Coke cap
Ziploc bag of art charcoal
Cash
Sunscreen
Keys
1 movie ticket
2 book marks
4 fortunes from fortune cookies
5 lists of books for library day
13 receipts
iPhone
Camera
2 pieces of mail
1 concert program
1 note from the boy's pediatrician
A small-ish pile of garbage
and yes...
8 grocery lists.
So what does this say about me? Well, mostly, I think it says that I need to clean my purse out a little more often.
It also says I'm prepared for a little bit of everything. Dirty hands, bad breath, sunny day, wet feet. I've got it covered.
And also, if the zombie apocalypse happens tomorrow, I'm carrying enough food in my purse to at least make it a week.
What does your purse say about you?
"Which grocery list would you like me to add it to? You have 8 grocery lists in your purse."
Maybe I should clean my purse out a little more often.
Many months ago, I wrote about both my bedside table and my refrigerator and what they say about me. I had always meant to follow that up with a post about my purse, what with it being how you tell a lot about a woman and all.
The 8 grocery lists made me decide that now would be a good time to do that. Although I'm not exactly sure I like what my purse is saying about me these days.
This is my purse. I can't remember where I bought it, but it wasn't very expensive. The green makes me happy.
I decided to do this the honest way. I took my purse, unzipped all the compartments and then shook it out onto my bedroom floor.
This is what my purse is saying about me. It needs it's mouth washed with soap.
After organizing my purse, I found that it contained:
4 pens
3 pencils
1 pair of socks
Pack of gum
2 Chick-fil-A mints
Tic-Tacs
Ice Breaker mints
1 nearly empty bag of craisins
Meal replacement shake
1 fruit snack package
1 package of Twizzlers
2 Veggie Tales CDs
Tub of wet wipes
Pack of Kleenex
Moist towelette
Finger nail clippers
Floss
Chap stick/lip stick/gloss
Coke cap
Ziploc bag of art charcoal
Cash
Sunscreen
Keys
1 movie ticket
2 book marks
4 fortunes from fortune cookies
5 lists of books for library day
13 receipts
iPhone
Camera
2 pieces of mail
1 concert program
1 note from the boy's pediatrician
A small-ish pile of garbage
and yes...
8 grocery lists.
So what does this say about me? Well, mostly, I think it says that I need to clean my purse out a little more often.
It also says I'm prepared for a little bit of everything. Dirty hands, bad breath, sunny day, wet feet. I've got it covered.
And also, if the zombie apocalypse happens tomorrow, I'm carrying enough food in my purse to at least make it a week.
What does your purse say about you?
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Flight of Ideas
I suddenly find myself unable to keep up with everything. All the balls that I was juggling in the air seem much heavier than they ever did. Things are getting dropped frequently here.
I'm blaming everything on winter. It's dark when I go to work. It's dark when I get home. It's always dark. And cold.
Everyone keeps talking about how mild this winter is. Maybe the weather is. But emotionally, this winter has been anything but mild. The last several months have wrecked havoc on my emotional well being.
I wish I was a bear and could hibernate all the gray, icy days away.
That line sounds like it could be from a children's book.
That's all I read any more, children's books. I can't talk about New York best sellers or the hottest read, but if you want to talk to me about Mo Willems or Oliver Jeffers, I'm all in.
I'm going to start re-reading The Hunger Games trilogy. I am beyond excited for the movie.
Lately, it seems like everyone is watching Once Upon a Time. I really want to watch it, but I just haven't found the time. The few days I thought I had time, we had no internet. I can't do anything without the internet. All my communication, my recipes, the boys' school stuff - it's all on the internet.
The internet is back up. The non-starting car is repaired. The pipe down the street that burst and left us without water is fixed.
Sometimes it feels like everything is back up and running except me.
Don't you hate it when people mention that they are dealing with significant personal issues, and then don't tell you what it is? Well, that's what's going on here. I've been thrown some major curve balls and am trying to figure out how to deal with them. As soon as I figure that out, I'll share it.
The boys are getting their Valentine's ready to share at school. Based on what's on Pinterest these days, I'm sure the boys are going to bring home a variety of darling homemade cards. My boys are handing out store bought Valentines. I refuse to feel guilty. Okay, that's not true. I refuse to let my guilt to me into unreasonable activity.
I need to do some activity.
I need it to be warm.
I wish I was a bear.
I'm blaming everything on winter. It's dark when I go to work. It's dark when I get home. It's always dark. And cold.
Everyone keeps talking about how mild this winter is. Maybe the weather is. But emotionally, this winter has been anything but mild. The last several months have wrecked havoc on my emotional well being.
I wish I was a bear and could hibernate all the gray, icy days away.
That line sounds like it could be from a children's book.
That's all I read any more, children's books. I can't talk about New York best sellers or the hottest read, but if you want to talk to me about Mo Willems or Oliver Jeffers, I'm all in.
I'm going to start re-reading The Hunger Games trilogy. I am beyond excited for the movie.
Lately, it seems like everyone is watching Once Upon a Time. I really want to watch it, but I just haven't found the time. The few days I thought I had time, we had no internet. I can't do anything without the internet. All my communication, my recipes, the boys' school stuff - it's all on the internet.
The internet is back up. The non-starting car is repaired. The pipe down the street that burst and left us without water is fixed.
Sometimes it feels like everything is back up and running except me.
Don't you hate it when people mention that they are dealing with significant personal issues, and then don't tell you what it is? Well, that's what's going on here. I've been thrown some major curve balls and am trying to figure out how to deal with them. As soon as I figure that out, I'll share it.
The boys are getting their Valentine's ready to share at school. Based on what's on Pinterest these days, I'm sure the boys are going to bring home a variety of darling homemade cards. My boys are handing out store bought Valentines. I refuse to feel guilty. Okay, that's not true. I refuse to let my guilt to me into unreasonable activity.
I need to do some activity.
I need it to be warm.
I wish I was a bear.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
The Poet Inside
I used to write poetry.
I was the stereotypical teenager, filled to overflowing with angst and heartbreak and big dreams. I sat cross-legged on the porch swing, scribbling page after page on emotion heavy lines. I found neglected corners on the college campus, either propped against a regal column or letting my legs hang over a high concrete wall, pouring my heart onto paper. I would wander outdoors, often feeling like Anne Shirley reading Lady of Shalott in the woods.
There is a box in my basement filled with notebooks of my poetry.
To be honest, most of it is not very good. It is the typical writing of a young girl who often thought she felt more than she really did.
I have not written poetry in a very long time. Between all the daily events I call my real life and the hectic pull of everything, the lyrical view I held of the world gave way to a more cynical, logical, stressed newsprint outlook.
But there are still moments.
Evenings where the river is still and flat, belying the strong current underneath, perfectly reflecting the boat house, the bridge, and the black silhouette of naked trees. Afternoons at the park, with the wind in the pine boughs, the chains of the swings clinking. Mornings early enough that the trees are still heavy with birds, the sound of the car rousing them to form soft, flittering clouds around leafless branches. Moments of a head tucked under my arm, and soft blue eyes and the hint of dimple. Quiet at the bedside of a patient.
Then I think the poetry is still there. And it is just as beautiful and alive and heartbreaking as it was when I was a teenager. I want to write it all down, capture the moment, keep it alive with ink.
Then the noise and chaos and schedules and menus and deadlines swell up again and push those thoughts back into hiding. Life is too busy, too real to waste writing silly words in floral covered notebooks.
But then, maybe it's just busy enough to need to.
I was the stereotypical teenager, filled to overflowing with angst and heartbreak and big dreams. I sat cross-legged on the porch swing, scribbling page after page on emotion heavy lines. I found neglected corners on the college campus, either propped against a regal column or letting my legs hang over a high concrete wall, pouring my heart onto paper. I would wander outdoors, often feeling like Anne Shirley reading Lady of Shalott in the woods.
There is a box in my basement filled with notebooks of my poetry.
To be honest, most of it is not very good. It is the typical writing of a young girl who often thought she felt more than she really did.
I have not written poetry in a very long time. Between all the daily events I call my real life and the hectic pull of everything, the lyrical view I held of the world gave way to a more cynical, logical, stressed newsprint outlook.
But there are still moments.
Evenings where the river is still and flat, belying the strong current underneath, perfectly reflecting the boat house, the bridge, and the black silhouette of naked trees. Afternoons at the park, with the wind in the pine boughs, the chains of the swings clinking. Mornings early enough that the trees are still heavy with birds, the sound of the car rousing them to form soft, flittering clouds around leafless branches. Moments of a head tucked under my arm, and soft blue eyes and the hint of dimple. Quiet at the bedside of a patient.
Then I think the poetry is still there. And it is just as beautiful and alive and heartbreaking as it was when I was a teenager. I want to write it all down, capture the moment, keep it alive with ink.
Then the noise and chaos and schedules and menus and deadlines swell up again and push those thoughts back into hiding. Life is too busy, too real to waste writing silly words in floral covered notebooks.
But then, maybe it's just busy enough to need to.
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