What I Want

This next phase in our life is providing me with a new beginning, a chance to think about my life and what changes I'd like to make.  I have so many, it's sort of overwhelming.

"What I Want", presented in bullet points.

-I want to have a positive attitude no matter what my circumstance is.  We are coming up on a whole lot of unknowns. Basically everything is up in the air right now.  This is mentally and emotionally uncomfortable for me.  I can't choose what happens but I can choose how I react to it and in turn, how that reflects on my life.  If I whole-heartedly believe that things aren't that bad, then they won't be.  My attitude will become my reality.

-I want to be truly happy for the good things that happen in the lives of those I love, no matter what's going on in my own life.

-This sort of goes with the statement above, but I want to completely squelch the emotion of envy or jealousy from my whole being.  It's so unbecoming and just gross.  I used to be pretty good about this but in the last little while, I have notice it creep back in and it's time to stomp it out completely.  I believe this can happen by actively seeking ways to exercise more gratitude.

-This goes along with the above, but I want time the time to notice more things to be grateful for and express it.

-I want to build my relationship with God.  I want to feel His presence more in my life and as a result, I believe I will be able to see His hand more clearly, which is something I think is really important.

-I want to get used to having a husband and father around. I don't know if I can explain this one very well, but I've learned to function really well without Go.  On the weekends when he's around, I'm all out of sorts, I have a hard time being productive, I'm out of my routine, it messes with me and I can get cranky.  What a waste of something good.  I would like to figure out how to turn this behavior around.

-I want to focus on health rather than weight loss but without really focusing on it, if that makes sense. Going to the gym now will be completely up to me and for the first time in 9 years, not because I *have* to be there to teach a spin class.  I would like to adopt an active lifestyle and most of all, eat clean.  The other side to this is that I would like to do this without having to talk about it all the time and not let it rule my life.  Just do it and shut up about it like it ain't no thang. I admire people who live their live this way and don't feel the need to constantly talk about it...it just...IS.

-I want more order. I lived the first part of my life being extremely sloppy. I was just born that way; it's my nature to be disorderly and helter skelter. Every year since  I've been married to my OCD neat freak, I've become more orderly and more tidy to keep the peace and out of respect for him and his space.  It's been really hard to literally change the course of my DNA. Today I am in no way on the same level as Go but I'm really proud of the strides I've made in this area.  I'd like to keep continuing down that path.  Living at my in-laws will be good for me and my continuous battle to become more clean and tidy.  I'm going to try very hard to be conscientious about keeping their home in order and not feel like we've completely bulldozed their whole life with our crap.

-I want to be more careful about the way I react to my children.  I want to slow my mind and really think about what I say and how I say it rather than just let the first thing that comes to my mind fly out of my mouth because oftentimes it can be sarcastic, more harsh than is necessary or instead of explaining things, just say whatever is quickest or easiest.  They deserve for me to be more careful with them verbally.

-I want to live more deliberately.  It's something I've been thinking a lot about lately and another blogger, I forget who, mentioned this and it was like "YES!  Exactly!" It's hard to put into words what I mean but the things I do, from the smallest to the largest need to hold greater purpose than they do or have been.  I generally don't think about the reasons I do things or don't do things; I just go and do or don't do. I'd like to spend my time more wisely, slow down, find greater purposes and let them soak in.

-I need to spend less time with things that are electronic and more time with things that are organic.  No longer having a photography business will be a huge part of this.

-I need to give my children more attention and can do this by the sentence above.  I want to incorporate them more in the things I love to do and share that joy; realize that every moment holds the potential to be a memory.  This doesn't necessarily mean that I have orchestrate some big project or activity on a daily basis.  Just being together and smiling is important.

...19 days more and then it's the start of something new.  And now it's time to get off the computer and do something fun with my girls.

Feeling Oddly Bloggy

I've become the lamest blogger on the planet. I'm going to kick myself someday and wonder what was going on in my life for the past however long because it's not like I've been scribbling in my journal either. I just haven't felt like sharing. So to assuage my future shins, I'll record one of my most recent happenings.

I called the cops on a couple of turkeys. No, not like human being hooligan "turkeys" with their hullabaloo and shenanigans...like, actual live bird turkeys. They were easily taller than Olive, who is a giant child, and they were running all over the neighborhood with their weird turkey necks stuck out and their weird tiny grey turkey faces and their weird buggy turkey eyes. I thought maybe they belonged to the farm up the street or something and frankly, I was freaked. They are not a pleasant looking animal. I just wanted to report them to get them returned to their rightful owner (and out of pecking distance) but it resulted in a police officer coming to my house, standing on my door step and laughing in my face. "They're wild turkeys. Haven't you seen wild turkeys before?" Um, no. "They're like deer. Would you have called us if you saw a deer?" As much as I wanted to apologize for disturbing his morning habitual ingestion of what apparently looked to be three dozen doughnuts while sitting on his huge bottom and picking his nose, waiting for the phone to ring in what's probably the quietest neighborhood in America, I didn't. I also didn't apologize for not being a country bumpkin, not growing up in the sticks and never seeing wild turkeys before, but I'm afraid of cops so I just smiled and thanked him, hoping he wouldn't glance at the expired state inspection tags on my car.

6 am Floor Plans

Lately, I've been feeling left behind. My residency friends are moving; my medical school and residency friends who have already moved are now living in their dream homes; they are signing contracts for jobs, real well-paying jobs in fields that they've studied for years to perfect. Some have already been working in their chosen careers for a couple of years and seem to have it all--everything they have worked so hard for has come to fruition. Their blogs feature beautiful homes and fun vacations and new wardrobes and their heads of hair are rootless. Their toes are pedicured and their faces are dewy from regular facials. They've arrived. It's exciting times and I'm thrilled for them, yet I'm getting antsy for our turn just to be where we want to be, never mind the dewy face. When we started our residency here in PA, it was to be for 5 years. Then during year two, they came to Go and basically told him that because they were changing the format, he was the lucky guy who got to be the first resident to do 6 years instead of 5. So that tacked on another year but because of the brutality of residency and the hardship that our family has faced (something I don't like to air publicly on this blog, but believe me, we've suffered) we're beyond tired. We're stretched extremely thin. We're more than ready to be done. But alas, we still have 15 more months to go instead of 3. As I ponder over my various friends and their plans and their fabulous lives and hair and toes and faces, I am sincerely happy for them. They deserve every bit of happiness and good fortune. But I wonder about us. It's hard to believe anything close to what is happening to my friends will happen for us. What will become of us? Will we be so lucky? Will our hard work pay off? It seems so hard to believe that it will some day. I try to focus on my happiness for them and not be envious. I try to be hopeful for our future and be grateful for what we have now, which is a lot. I know that there are people struggling everywhere, much, much more than we are and I should be grateful for all that I have at this moment and I am, because man, are we blessed. But at the same time, we've invested so much money into his education and he's worked so hard and we've sacrificed so much, that I feel we are entitled to some pay back. Are feelings of entitlement wrong? Am I being selfish for someday hoping all will pan out in our favor? There are millions upon millions of unemployed, there are children starving all over the world, families of 12 packed into one-bedroom shacks, people living every day in fear, political turmoil at every turn, yet I sit here and think "I'm sick of sharing a bathroom with my children! It's not fair!" Why am I so lame and evil? All of this was swirling around my head started at 4 am while I held my coughing, coughing, coughing Olive. At 5:30 am, when I found myself sitting upright, holding her while she slept, I let my mind wander and started designing my dream home. And it took off from there. I saw it. I was there, walking around in our future home and everything was there waiting for me to get it all down. I gently lay my no-longer coughing baby down and headed downstairs to draft an awesome floor plan for said dream home. I rolled out my vellum, got out a ruler, a pencil, an eraser, a thin marking pen and a thick one and got to work, remembering some of the things I had picked up while working at various architectural firms during my high school and college years. It was dreamy. It was the happiest hand full of hours I've had in a long, long time. Suddenly I didn't feel so left behind. I had plans now, too. They might be farther off than my friend's but there's something there now in the back of my mind instead of just a big black chasm of unknown. I love my little floor plans. They were like my anchor of sanity and hope this morning. And someday, maybe my dreams will become a reality. But for now, I am back in our cozy town home, here in PA, with a mountain of laundry to fold while I watch last night's Jimmy Fallon, hold a coughing Olive and hope maybe I'll talk to my husband today. And I'm happy with that for now and appreciative for all of it.

*image of floor plans drawn by Frank Lloyd Wright found on latimesblog.

Happy Balentimes

We celebrated today since Go is on call tomorrow.

First I'd like to address something I have heard repeatedly from all kinds of random sources, which is that men like to receive bouquets of flowers from women for Valentine's Day. Whaaah? Imagine me with a thick Olde English accent, wearing a powdered wig and sticking my feathered pen up in the air, saying "Nay! That is but a falsehood!"

Men like good food. So every VDay I try to make a special dinner. This year's was pretty good.

The recipes:

Grilled Sirloin with Citrus Salsa

Balsamic Quinoa Salad

Roasted Brussel Sprouts

Fig & Ginger Truffles

Though if I ever did get Go a bouquet of flowers for Valentine's, the flowers would be made of cheese.

It's Healthy to Treat Seasonal Depression with Food, Right?

Hey, better fat than sad.

I had a friend over for lunch. Today's remedy for the winter blues:

-Barefoot Contessa's French Lentil & Vegetable Soup.

-A salad made with arugala, oranges, almonds, crumbled bacon and a choice of cheese. She added little mozzarella balls to hers because she is with child and I added feta to mine because I am not.

-I was planning on having sprouted wheat bread paninis with havarti cheese, pesto and tomato but the soup and salad was filling enough and I was running behind, so I passed on making the paninis, which was fine because those calories were spent on the dessert.

-For dessert: Nigella Lawson's Choco-Hoto-Pots.

Ina and Nigella never let me down.

Note to self: the combination of a tasty lunch, a good convo and BodyPump in the morning works like a charm. Today was good.

My Podcasts. Mine.

I am a die-hard fan of both This American Life and The Moth podcasts. They both bring me so much joy and delight, it's to a degree where I have a hard time putting it into words. Like, even though they both have millions of listeners, I feel like they were put on the earth just for me and me alone. Crazy? Maybe. Self-centered? Most definitely but that's how much I love them. Sometimes they're shoot-your-diet-ginger-ale-out-your-nose hilarious. Sometimes they're bawl-your-eyes-out tragic. Sometimes they're I'm-so-much-smarter-after-listening informative. Sometimes they're I-can-do-so-much-more-with-my-life inspiring. This morning while cleaning the blinds in the front room, I listened to the latest Moth podcast, which turned out to be of the inspiring variety. It kind of blew my mind. I'm embedding it here and if you have 16 minutes and 50 seconds, I would highly recommend listening.

Richard Garriott: The Overview Effect by The Moth on Mixcloud

Just a Word of Advice

If you're extremely sensitive to caffeine, and foolishly decide at 10 pm to eat the last slice of Bittersweet Chocolate Flour-less Cake, it would be wise after still lying awake at 1:30 am, to heed the sage advice from your husband when he suggests taking a sleep aid. And then, after retorting* "YOUR MOM should take some Melatonin," you should not stalk into the bathroom and decide to trim your bangs. You might walk out looking like a person hopped up on caffeine who picked up some scissors and went to town...with their eyes closed. And then, after becoming 50% distraught over your new insane-asylum-patient look and 50% distraught over the fact that you actually don't really care that much and why don't you care because you should care and what does this say about yourself and why are you so lame lately, you should not lie awake until 5 am watching Youtube videos of Korean girls trimming their bangs.

*Tena, if you're reading this, I wasn't specifically talking about YOU. This is a joke 30-somethings say to each other as a sassy and extremely intelligent and mature comeback, along the lines of "I know you are but what am I?" to shut the other person up. But let's be honest, you probably really should take a Melatonin.

I'd Like to Thank the Academy

for:

1. The wonderful smells coming from my yard right now. Basil, thyme, rosemary, lavender. Would it be weird if I started rubbing a bunch of rosemary in my arm pits instead of using deodorant?

2. And thank you to all fonts in general. Except for Papyrus and a hand full of others that I really don't care for. I could waste a lot of time on this site. And by that, I mean I do waste a lot of time on this site.

3. The writers of Modern Family. That show always, always make me laugh: "If an accident does happen, I hope he kills me, because I don't think I would be a very inspiring disabled person."

4. The week Go has off in a little while. We're driving 7 hours to Toronto and staying for a wee bit! And then we're driving 7 hours back home to wash our clothes and go to the bathroom and shower in our own shower which I would bet money, has even lower water pressure than the humble hotel in which we will have just come from! And then we're driving 12 hours to Nashville! And staying for a wee bit! And then driving 12 hours back home! All within a week! Also, we might be insane!

5. Olive, who is inseparable from her baby lately. It's one of those little ones with the cloth bodies and plastic head and limbs. She keeps it inside a beanie like a little sleeping bag. All day long, she carries it around, kisses it, loves it, cuddles it, feeds it, sings to it and puts it to sleep on anything soft she comes across, giving it a kiss goodnight, says "Ni-ni, bee bee!" gives it a couple of pats for good measure, then picks it back up 10 seconds later. She requires that I give her baby kisses about every 15 minutes. My kids have done lots of cute things in their day but this might take the cake.

6. The constant singing in my house during the day by my two youngest. May's always been prone to wander around in her dreamland singing, making up songs with lyrics consisting with phrases such as "in your heart", "truly believe", "madly in love", and "forever and ever" , which I really don't know where these cheesy lyrics come from since Go certainly doesn't listen to songs with such sap and I'm a total tom-boy when it comes to music (and well, most other things) but I love it. What I love more is that while May is on one end of the room (or often, car) singing her heart out to random melodies, Olive is on the other end crooning away as well, a completely different melody and lyrics with eyes squinted and brow furrowed, giving it her all and often holding out the length of notes for an impressive amount of time. I want to secretly record these two one day so they look back and listen to their weird duets.

7. Chicks with acrylic nails. I like watching them try to things and look normal while doing those things. I am reminded of an SNL skit with Kristen Wiig where she worked up in an air traffic control tower. She had long acrylic nails and was trying to open a bag of Sun Chips. She's so genius.

8. Kristen Wiig and the other funny ladies out there that I have girl-crushes on. This includes but is not limited to: Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and my pal Alisa. (Alisa, if this makes you feel uncomfortable reading this, I promise to keep it platonic this weekend.) And though she's not funny, Nigella Lawson. Just because.

9. Again Olive, for being a really fun age. She's becoming extremely verbal, which is a great vehicle for her vibrant personality, always cheerfully saying "Thank you! Your welcome!" as she hands you random stuff she's found around the house. It sounds like "Deek Doo! Wow Cuh!" She has also started saying little sentences. Here are some of her latest words: (and this list, I am aware, only interests my mother and my husband)

-most of her sentences start with this: "I want...": (Uhhh)
-"cookie": (tee-tee)
-"peanut butter": (pee-a-bow)
-any sort of liquid to drink is "juice" (which is odd since she never has it): (joo)
-"May-May": (Mah-May)
-"Ruby"-(Woo-Bee)
-"I want down" (which means go down in the basement): (Uhhh dowww)
-"bath": (bow)
-"toast": (tow)
-"shoes": (shee-yews)
-"Me too!": (Ah do!)
-She has started letting me know when she has a dirty diaper: she walks to where I am, says "poo-poo" and turns right around for me to check her diaper. I think potty training is in our near future, which doesn't mean much since after my experience with Ruby and May (struggled and struggled for months when Ruby was 2, threw in the towel and 6 months later, she trained herself and May just trained herself when she was about 2.5, so I'm a big believer in letting the kid lead the way, although I'm aware it always doesn't go this way, and I don't expect to be as fortunate with this every time, but so far, we're off to a good start.)
-What a kitty says: (eee-ow)
-What a doggy says: (fff-fff)
-What a cow says: (noooooh)
-puppy: (bob-bee)
-yogurt: (yo-gee)

10. Scheduled mail carrier pick ups for packages, which require me to stay away from the post office, otherwise known as My Own Personal Outer Darkness.

7 Things on September 7th

1. Last night I fell asleep and stayed asleep until the morning WITHOUT ANY FORM OF SLEEP AID for the first time in a really long time. I'm such a big girl. I got to put a sticker on my chart.

2. Kind of obsessed with Chobani greek peach yogurt and Avarado Street sprouted wheat bread and have been for months.

3. I watched Jersey Shore for 15 minutes for the first time a couple of nights ago. I completely see the appeal. It wasn't as gross as I thought it would be and even though these people are completely ridiculous, there is something about them that makes you sympathetic while simultaneously hating them. It was a strange feeling; fascinating and entertaining to witness. That being said, it will probably be the last 15 minutes I ever watch.

4. Lately, I've been overwhelmed with thoughts of all the things I'd really, really love to do that I'll probably never get to do. Like bike across America. Or write a screen play, direct it, do the soundtrack and then watch it in a real live theatre. Be awesome enough at an instrument to play in a band, and then actually play in a band. Get through a yoga class without the teacher stifling their laughter as they observe my crazy unlimberness. Paint a picture that I actually like. These are things I long to do and I fear will never come to pass. There's something else that's always been on that list, but I'm taking it off and am working toward it: I am attempting to write a novel and hopefully, get it published. This is something I've been working towards on and off for the past 2 years. As of tomorrow morning, I'm back on the wagon. I'm trying to prove the voices in my head wrong - the ones that tell me I'll never be able to do it, it's not worth the energy and the sacrifice of precious sleep. These voices are really hard to ignore because you see, the voices in my head sound something like the lovechild of Fran Drescher and Gilbert Gottfried.

5. We all know it: summer is winding down, fall is upon us. 95% of you just clasped your hands together and took a deep inhale. I really, really wish I could do this with you, to relish autumn and be among you, you who gushes about how much you *LOVE!!!* fall, but I just can't seem to do it. To me, autumn is a precursor to 5 to 6 months of wintery misery. But (as always) I'm going to attempt to enjoy it this time around. Maybe I'll succeed knowing that this is my second to last fall here on the East coast. (UTTER GLEE!) But really, even if I didn't get slammed with the winter-blues every year, I'm not much a cozy, toasty autumny person anyway. I get much more excited about things coming in green, fresh and alive (spring!) than I do about things wilting and dying...which is what fall is. Sorry to burst your apple-cinnamon scented bubble, folks. Fall = death.

6. We've been finding dead butterflies in our front yard lately. This creeps me out. What's that movie where they keep finding dead animals around and then all of a sudden some weird disaster hits?

7. This post is starting to bum me out. Hm. How should I lighten this up? Hmmmm...uh...well...how about you pretend that I uploaded a video of Olive dancing? Picture a very tall, very bald toddler hunkered down, jutting out her chin, sticking out her neck, and pumping her fists horizontally back and forth and then all of a sudden, she tips her head waaaay back with her eyes closed and her mouth open wide, sticks out her tongue and sways her head side to side, in time with her fists. Yah. I'm just going to have to post a video.

Deep Thoughts by Ann Reynolds

The other day, I overheard a conversation between two women, one of them exclaiming how exhausted she was and due to of various circumstances, their family had been in "survival mode" for the past couple of days. Usually, I wiggle myself into conversations with the greatest of ease but this time I just sat back and listened. She described the elements of her "survival mode"-- not getting enough sleep, letting dishes sit in the sink overnight, her kids fingernails getting longer before they should, running from place to place constantly late, having an overworked husband who hadn't been home and having to do everything herself, feeling like she couldn't catch a break, money was tight, constantly playing catch-up, two steps forward, one step back, etc. I thought about how familiar it all sounded, but realized that has been life...everyday...for the past four years. It made me sad to think that this life of mine that I love, though hard at times, was a "survival mode." I thought of friends of mine, with their husband's cushy 9-5 jobs, their healthy children, their lack of school loans, their beautiful, clean homes in their picket fence-lined neighborhoods, their weekly trips to the mall, their babysitters, their book clubs, their children's preschool enrollment, their pedicured toes, their cleaning ladies, their impeccable upkeep on their highlights, their family right around the corner, etc and felt a pang of envy. But immediately, I reminded myself of my friends with their barely-there husbands, their children with special needs, their children with severe illnesses, their income below the poverty line, their months of unemployment, their lack of transportation, their single-parenthood, their bad relationship with their in-laws, their never having been to the ocean, their infertility, their failing marriages, their lack of a dishwasher and other appliances, deaths in their families, their addictions, their bad neighborhoods, their having to deal with depression, their backwards housing market, their failing businesses, etc. and despite their problems--they are happy. Those women probably felt like they had been in survival mode for years, too and probably thought of my life as a freaking cake walk. But then I thought back to my friends with seemingly perfect lives. They undoubtedly have complaints as well, ones that do not show on the surface. So instead of dismissing their struggles and feeling like these women could use a whopping dose of reality, they're dealing with their own issues. Everyone is. I'm not one to get caught up in quotes really, but the statement "Be kinder than necessary, for every one you meet is fighting some sort of battle" really rings true. Maybe that's what life really is--figuring out how to be happy during one big, long survival mode.

Happy 30th to Moi

Turning 30 used to freak me out. Up until about a year and a half ago, it really bothered me until I realized, "Hey, I'll be in my thirties when we're out of residency," and then 30 didn't seem so bad. What also helped my attitude was setting the goal to "Weigh 130 at 30," which is five pounds lighter than when I started out my pregnancy with Ruby, something I haven't seen on the scale for almost a decade. Yikes.

As of a couple of days ago, I was 131.5. A lot of my spinning folks are aware of my plight, so when I walked in the spin room this morning, they were like "Did you make it?", "Are you 130 yet?" and I said "Nope!" and they all let out a loud groan because they knew this meant that I was going to kill them. "I have 1 and a half pounds to lose, people! And I'm going to leave it on the floor of the spin room. Starting NOW! GET THOSE LEGS MOVING! COME ON!" The groans turned into roars, whoops, yelps and whistles. What a fantastic way to start a birthday. (Technically, my birthday is Sunday, the 11th, but we celebrated today.) I came home, hopped on the scale and lo and behold...130!

The day just got better. I was royally spoiled by my man as usual. I take that back...referring to the "as usual" part of that sentence. When I turned 26 was right after he started his intern year, he was working 110 hours a week and we literally didn't see him for months. My 26th birthday I did NOT get spoiled. But I forgave him because it wasn't his fault...and I digress. So every year before 2006 and after 2006, I did get and have gotten spoiled and this year was no exception. It may or may not have included and was not limited to the following things:

Even still, I can't help but do little things for myself and think "Happy Birthday, self!" during the week leading up to July 11th every year.

Such as the 2 bunches of gorgeous bright pink gladiolus I have sitting in a vase in the middle of my kitchen table. Thirty gladiolus to the thirty year old!

The $4.99 DVD of Raising Arizona I came across in Costco a couple days ago. Don't mind if I do!

A cold bottle of Diet A&W straight out of the grocery store mini-fridge yesterday. How thoughtful of me.

Splurging a little on the best fruit in the world. Why, thank you.








Thirty was good. And I think it's going to continue that way.

1000th Post: Operation Tidy Kids

For my 1000th post, I thought I'd do something I normally wouldn't do: Air some dirty laundry. Yay! Scandal!

I am not a naturally neat and tidy person. My brain is a chaotic mess, therefore, that is what springs forth out of me--a chaotic mess. Simply put, as a generalization, we know that left-brained people are nice and neat and right-brained people are a hot mess. I blame my natural untidiness on ADD and the fact that the right side of my brain is like Andre the Giant and my left is like Nacho Libre's wimpy sidekick Esquelito (partially because he is a weakling and partially because he believes in science.) My brain really likes wrestling, apparently.

That being said, over the past 10 years, I've made major strides in this area and I'm proud of that. It's been really really hard and something I struggle with on a daily basis. It sounds lame, but it goes against every grain in my body to put something away right after I've used it. Why? Because I'm already using something else and have forgotten about the first thing I was doing. You slow down, you die. So I'm constantly making conscious efforts to look around me and pick up my trail of bread crumbs. At lengths of time, I do a great job. And other times, it's tiring and I'm back to my old ways.

All this wouldn't be an issue if I hadn't married some who teeters on the edge of OCD. I won't go into specifics but Go is uber neat and precise and everything he does is done with surgical precision. Trust me, if you ever need some sort of plastic surgery, you want him to be the one sewing you up.

So, like I said, sometimes I go great stretches of time where everything is kept clean and I keep on top of things and the girls and their messes without a problem. But lately, I've fallen off of the tidy wagon. And because of this, so have my kids. Their room, the basement where they keep all of their toys, their art cabinet, the bathroom after they've spent all of 30 seconds in it, are left looking like ground zero until I go in and have them clean these places. The response I get 95% of the time is the five stages of grief with tears, howling, writhing, flailing, wailing and gnashing of teeth thrown in. It's ridiculous and has only gotten worse and because of this our home lately has spun out of control. This has caused some...friction...even though Go tries to be extra tolerant of me and my messy episodes and does his best to help the girls be neat. I'm pretty sure he believes he deserves a shiny platinum medal for his tolerance. But the tolerance has run out. The girls negative responses to our simple requests to clean their messes and my poor example of cleanliness have gone on long enough, apparently.

It all came to a head last night after our house had been messy for several weeks--the girls messes especially. He had talked with me several times and asked what I was doing during the day to help teach them clean up better or help change their outlook on cleanliness but I didn't have any real answers for him. So in order to have a happier home, he took it upon himself and implemented a plan.

All of the art supplies, all of the toys, save for some paper, a box of crayons each, their books and a selection of 5 toys each will be locked in the basement closet. As they are able to keep these small selection of toys/art supplies cleaned up each day, they will slowly earn back their toys and art supplies.

As he presented this plan to us, I felt side swiped. We hadn't discussed this. I imagined 2 bored, hence, bickering girls on my hands all summer long.

And without an abundance of art supplies. The nerve.

I was livid.

I've cooled off some, but I'm still sort of mad. I've never been mad at him for more than maybe 30 minutes. We're going on about 24 hours now. We're on the downward slope, though.

So today, because I respect and support my husband (said through clenched teeth) and the honest desire to have a happier and cleaner home, I followed his plan: put everything in the closet, threw away a bunch of stuff and had the girls make their selections.

Even though I feel like this isn't my campaign, pairing down and simplifying felt good. And our house is currently totally void of any of the girls' messes. Because of this, I haven't had to deal with any cleanliness melt-downs from anyone.

Um, you know what?

As much as I hate to admit it, I think this might work. The guy might be a freaking genius.

Kite Shmite

Today we flew the kite the girls gave Go for his birthday.
It was windy.
Things were going well.

Then it got reeeeeeally windy.

And it broke.
The end.

Now That I'm Back and Looking at the Previous Post on a Real Computer

Um, in my defense, the sun was super bright in the Caribbean and cast a mighty glare on my phone's screen, thus making it nearly impossible to plainly see the photo of myself which I blindly, as it were, posted on the spot for all to see.

But what's done is done.

Also in my defense: you start feeling pretty secure with your quite average physique after being on a cruise ship for a couple of days, what with the unquestionably high rate of swim-suited passengers with their swollen beer bellies, their legs ravaged with varicose veins, their obvious fungal infections, and their unflattering drunken gyrations.

Scarred for Life

When I was about 13 or 14, an Olympic swimming coach came to my Dad's health club and taught a swimming workshop for teens. I wasn't the fastest swimmer and always the last one off the block ("but always the farthest one out once she did jump off the block," my Mom is always quick to add. Thanks, viking quads!) so I took the opportunity and went. My Dad swam laps on one side of the pool while I "workshopped" with the coach.
"My, what viking-like quads you have, miss."
"Why, thank you, Olympic Coach!"
After I swam and the coach stood around stating the obvious, I got out of the pool and dried off. My Dad was already done and inside the gym at this point. I remember looking at the back of the building and seeing four unmarked doors--I swear they were unmarked. It was like the health club was so pretentious that you should just KNOW what door to go through because you are apart of the elite. If you didn't know what door to go through, you shouldn't be there in the first place. Be gone, day-pass street urchins. I decided to go through the door on the far left. That was SO the wrong door to open. It was the door to the men's locker room. I stood there in the doorway, stunned for about 10 seconds, my mouth agape at the sight of 4 elderly naked men, toweling off in a cloud of steam. All of a sudden, my Dad appeared right in front of me. "What are you doing in here?" and he sort of turned me around and led me and my viking quads out the door and pointed me towards the next door over--the ladies locker room. Unfortunately, the scene is forever seared into my retinas. I've stated that there was a time in college that I never wanted to get married--this experience may had something to do with that.
Today, my girls had a similar experience. We were at Costco and they had to use the restroom. I had a cart full of stuff and Olive strapped in the front, so I parked right outside of the bathroom and let the girls go in by themselves. I don't know how it's set up at your Costco, but at ours, it's like one big main entrance, with the women's side on the left, the men's on the right. It took me a couple of minutes and several bewildered men walking quickly out of the bathroom, checking the sign and heading back in to realize that my girls were indeed doing their business in the men's room. Not a proud parenting moment. Thankfully, they were secured inside a stall, with their retinas protected from the reality on the other side of the door at the urinals.

Today's Song

Paying our taxes is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Paying our taxes is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Changing a diaper is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Changing a diaper is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Switching to Geico is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Switching to Geico is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Awkward talks with State Farm is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Awkward talks with State Farm is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Scrubbing the tiolet is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Scrubbing the tiolet is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Folding the laundry is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Folding the laundry is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Changing a diaper is fun to do again, fun to do, to do, to do-
Changing a diaper is fun to do again. To do, to do, to do.

Scrubbing out mascara on my duvet cover is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Scrubbing out mascara on my duvet cover is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Putting May in time-out is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Putting May in time-out is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Scraping dried baby food off the high chair is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Scraping dried baby food off the high chair is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Dusting ceiling fans is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Dusting ceiling fans is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Coughing on dust bunnies is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Coughing on dust bunnies is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Vacuuming under the couch is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Vacuuming under the couch is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Finding old string cheese is fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Finding old string cheese is fun to do. To do, to do, to do.

Changing a diaper is still fun to do, fun to do, to do, to do-
Changing a diaper is still fun to do. To do, to do, to do. And do and do and do.

Three Things for Today

1. The powers that be command that every town here in Central PA have their Trick or Treat Night on a different night--never actually on October 31st. Some townships trick-or-treat up to a week earlier. Lame. This irritates me every year and not just because it means I have to have their costumes done earlier. It's just dumb.

...aaaaaaand this is where you're supposed to view a supremely adorable image of my three girls all in their flower costumes, which Ruby cleverly donned as "The Olive Garden." I had a photoshoot right before trick-or-treating and by the time that wrapped up and I had uploaded my images to the computer, my camera battery was like "Peace!" So accept this illustration I did a couple of years ago of some trick-or-treaters instead. And you can look forward to seeing my girls as flowers next year...Mom.


2. I purchased some brussel sprouts at the grocery store today. I've never had brussel sprouts and will be following Ina Garten's technique--just roasting them with olive oil, salt and pepper. I'm a big Ina fan so I have high hopes. I know people have strong feelings against brussel sprouts and recall a scene in Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs (the children's book not the horrid movie) where at a birthday party, the sky serves brussel sprouts and peanut butter with mayonnaise. The children look less than enthused. Why does this particular food get a bad rap? I'm ready to find out.

3. My brother sent me these two links this morning and it made my day. John just probably thought I'd like the song/performance because it was both really good and odd which is always a winning combination but it ended up really speaking to me in a way a song/performance hasn't in a long time. It's hard to explain but for me, it personified what being in love is like, specifically my relationship with Go. The song, the lyrics, the energy, the driving beat, the ebb and flow, the melody, the interchanging major and minor chords. And I'm particularly glad that the song I felt "fit" us happened to be an awesome one and not Who Let The Dogs Out.

Same song. Two different performances. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. "Home."

A Housewife, Yes. Desperate, No.

I've never quite understood the term "Desperate Housewife." To me, my life as a "house wife" is pretty awesome. When people think of housewives, they think of cooking, cleaning, and laundry, right?

Well...
Yes, I cook meals, but it's delightful since I love to cook and love to eat delicious things.










Yes, I clean, which isn't necessarily fun, but the results are heavenly and I usually listen to This American Life or The Moth podcast while I do it, so it's totally enjoyable.







Yes, I do laundry, but it's a most excellent task. It enables me to watch TV during the middle of the day without feeling like a loser. Unless you watch white trash TV like I did today: Criss Angel's Mindfreak special. BUT, I will say the yucky Criss Angel and his man-jewelry did inspire deep thinking. Specifically on the subject of his finger bling. Criss's rings are so big. And he has so many. Do they play a vital role in his illusions, like does he hide stuff in them, like ropes and pullies for his tricks? Or are they meant to be a sparkly distraction while he's doing something crazy with that king of clubs? Or maybe he's using his man-jewelry to fill an emotional void? Did his father not play catch with him? One thing is for sure, he certainly doesn't abide by Coco Chanel's accessorizing advice: "Before you walk out the door, take one thing off." Men just shouldn't accessorize. Period. I don't care if they've got Daddy issues, jewelry is for women.






So. Cooking, cleaning, laundry. No, not glamorous (like Criss's sparkles!) but certainly not desperate.



To me, desperation would be being confined to a cubicle, watching the clock all day, counting down the hours until you could escape the My Heart Will Go On being playing on repeat by a nearby co-worker for the past 8 hours. Man, I'd choose the unsavory of all unsavorynesses (ie. poopy-bottom wiping, naughty children disciplining, vomit clean-up, insurance provider arguments) over Celine Dion any day of the week.








So yah. No desperation here. To prove my point once and for all, tomorrow on the docket we have:

sweating

harvesting and grinding

imagining

creating

preserving

baking (and eating)

finishing up

laundering

watching and being inspired

making and devouring

Not bad. Not bad at all.

I Annoy Myself

I had a friend at BYU who was there on a vocal performance scholarship. At any given moment, he'd burst into song. And not just any song, like loud, booming Jack-Black quasi-opera. He'd be ordering a shake or something and he be all "Yah, and I'd like an OOOOOOOOREO SHAAAAAAAAKE (dramatic hand-raising guesture) PAH-LEEEEEEEEEEASE!!!!! And you guys take debit cards, right? Thanks." It was bizarre and totally amusing. Especially since he claimed he didn't even realize he did it.

Today, I realized that I have a habit like this.

I'll be telling a story or something and then all of a sudden, I'll start talking exactly like Kip Dynamite. Spot on. Without even realizing it. Why do I do this? What does this say about me and my subconscious? Wait, don't answer that.

Letters Written After Helping Chaperone an Irvine Stake Dance

Dear Hall Rats,
Instead of hanging out in the hallway and texting the entire time, how about you go inside and do the Cha Cha Slide?

Love,
Me

Dear Cute Boy With The Curly Hair,
Even though you decided to accessorize with a red bandana hanging out of your back pocket, you're still really cute. It probably creeps you out that an almost-thirty year old mother of three would do this, but last night, I secretly dubbed you as The Boy I Would Have Kind of Stalked 15 Years Ago.

Love,
Me

Dear Tall Girl With The Perfect Figure, Perfect Hair, Perfect Teeth, Perfect Everything,
It would be so great if you went and asked a short little shy guy to dance and was sincerely nice to him. Oh, and before you did it, I would like to be notified so I could witness it. I've never seen a grown boy pee his pants before.

Love,
Me

Dear Girl Who Reminded Me of Myself 15 Years Ago,
Stop talking so loud and reinacting that SNL skit out in the hallway. You're just stalling because you know you're going to head back into that gym and eventually a slow song will come on. You may get asked, you may not. If you don't get asked after 3.5 seconds, instead going to the drinking fountain and standing in line to get a drink, swallow your pride and go over to that cute boy with the curly hair and ask him to dance. While you're there, yank that ridiculous red bandana out of his back pocket.

Love,
Me

P.S. - Don't be intimidated by The Tall Girl With The Perfect Figure, Perfect Hair, Perfect Teeth, Perfect Everything. You may not know it now, but you'll come to figure out later on that you're just as good as she is.


Dear Kid Wearing The Shiny Jacket, Gigantic Tie And Pants With The Huge Multicolored Polkadots,
Yes. We all see you. Mission accomplished.

Love,
Me

Dear Little Spazzy Girl,
Instead of striking poses alone in the corner of the room while everyone else slow dances, you might want to consider heading to the restroom for the duration of the song? Or how about just going and asking someone to dance? May I suggest asking the guy wearing the shiny jacket, giantic tie and pants with the huge multicolored polkadots? I think you guys would really hit it off.

Love,
Me