The Song Remains The Same, But The Times They Are A Changing

Yeah I just titled that with a Led Zeppelin - Bob Dylan mash up. So get ready for a musically themed post for this Friday.

There are weird albums, songs, and bands from my late teens early twenties that can bring back some of the most random memories or have some kind of sensory reminiscent thing with me. Mostly, however, I've discovered that the same amazing songs just have new levels of depth and meaning.

It's so hilarious to me how we can listen to these albums over and over but not really "get them" until we're ready to hear them in a particular way. We watched "Bohemian Rhapsody" over the weekend so naturally I have been binge-listening Queen on repeat. A Night At The Opera is an album my dad and I used to listen to all the time. There is this song, "Love Of My Life," and it's completely gorgeous but I never really listened to it until the movie. The movie portrayed it as a tragic love song about being in love with someone that you couldn't ever completely give yourself to, nor could you live without them. This has been on repeat for me all week, because I think it's honesty is as gorgeous as it's tune.

As a Spotify addict, and a Pandora loather, Spotify will judge my random playlists with suggestions that I can choose to add, rather than be forced to listen to. Sorry Pandora, but just because I like Taylor Swift doesn't mean I want to listen to an hour of Rascal Flatts, no offense. Spotify reminded me of my favorite Coldplay album and I heard this one song again but actually listened and was like, "Holy crap! Relevant much!?"

Zeppelin wins in saying the Song Remains The Same because in more ways than one, it completely does. Music is timeless. So when people say they don't "like" The Beatles or The Rolling Stones I don't understand what that means. You don't have to brush your teeth to "Love Me Do," or "Paint It Black," but music transcends everything. You've heard those songs regardless of if you put them on yourself, and I feel like you at least have to recognize the talent factor.

I'll always feel I was born in the wrong era, but in some ways I get the best of it all because I can revisit the legends, judge the new kinds and appreciate every single transition of the ages. I love almost every kind of music, or at least I can appreciate what it's doing for it's audience. Some people are more instrumental in their tastes, others are lyrical.

I'm completely lyrical in my obsessions. Any song can have a good beat but when you tell me a story, a story that I've lived or felt or been in myself, it is a very different experience. I don't enjoy Britney Spears music because she is deep. She's catchy and fun and dances well and I give the girl mad props for being herself. I don't love Bowling For Soup because they have touched my heart with their wise words. They are funny and great stage performers and they give you the fun tunes you need when you're stuck in traffic.

Led Zeppelin I listen to when I need perspective on the world. Death Cab For Cutie writes my soul into compositions that have shaken me. Hanson has gotten me through some of the worst moments because they write words that encourage and affect me.

I don't judge anyone's taste, anyone can like and listen to what they please, but what I know as a fundamental truth about me, is that music is life, I'm better with it, and it always keeps me going. I have felt the most spiritual experiences in front of a stage just watching someone completely electrify the audience with their musical presence.

Times are definitely changing. The arena concerts just make me sad because you spend all this money on an uncomfortable seat to see someone on screens instead of in a smaller venue where you can feel the music to it's fullest and dance until you can't stand anymore. I've caved and gotten the arena seats just to be in the presence of Paul Simon, Billy Joel, Rod Stewart and Neil Diamond but I didn't get to sing and dance around like I do when I go see Dashboard Confessional and scream and cry and sing with them the very songs that defined my teenage years.

Paul Simon has written some of the best poetry that has spoken worlds to me, but I'll never see him in a tiny club like my parents and their friends. I'm always at my best when surrounded by meaningful music. Sometimes I get so irritated when I drive with my husband because I put on a non-Disney playlist and I just want to listen to the songs, and he wants to talk about stuff. Rude, right? Kidding! I just love my time with music.

There are a few newer artists who are thriving in creativity for the next generation but I've also felt that parental gap where certain things are just "noise." I mean I can understand why they are "cool," but they are definitely not for me. I actually had the horrifying realization recently that most popular songs by pop women are about sex and filled with innuendos and even my favorite childhood bands were littered with sexual themes and my parents either didn't notice or didn't care.

I'm always thankful when my favorite artists make new music. I feel like it's a personal gift to me. I thank them by going to see them live, provided they come to Florida, which sometimes they don't. My husband and I saw one of our all time favorite bands, The Decemberists last year at The House of Blues Orlando and I was dancing and singing all the songs loudly without a care. I looked around and people were seemingly just bobbing along with little enthusiasm. I said "No wonder they don't come down here! No one is dancing and their music is for dancing!" Yes, I'm that crazy person hippie dancing always.

I'm going into this weekend with great playlists ready to embrace those songs that are staying the same but acknowledge that the times they are a changing. That doesn't mean I'll ever stop listening to vinyls though...

The Cry-O-Meter of Mom-ness

Mothering is exhausting, grueling, rewarding and difficult. Being a mom is an intense experience, period. Sometimes I feel like my mom-ness is off from others and one of those ways is the crying factor.

I'm an angry frustrated crier. Anger comes out of my eyeballs in water form and when I'm infuriated it's almost like a full tantrum. But I don't cry much for other things like first days of school, last days of school, awards and new horizons.

Don't get me wrong, my daughter is my everything and I know I was put on this earth to be her mother, but it's not always a cupcakes and rainbows job. Let's face it, she's probably my only child at this rate, and I work hard to just enjoy every phase with her, but my cry-o-meter seems to be off from other moms.

I don't know if it's because we've had a rough 6 years but I don't cry when I drop her at school on the first day. I may well up a bit, or just feel "Wow, what an incredible milestone," but I'm not weeping with joy and love. Ew, that's not me. I'm not gushy in that way.

I cried when she was being tortured in the hospital for failure to thrive with stomach tubes and blood draws and not being allowed to take her home to heal. I cried after the car accident that she was bruised and cut, bloodied and whining while I looked at the wreckage. I cried when they found out her legs were broken and she kept yelling at the nurses, "leave me alone! Ow! I want my mommy!" I cried when I had to sleep train her and she destroyed my doll house and I had to clean up everything alone but had to stand my ground. That's my mom crying.

I've been up nights crying hoping I could care for her on my own if I needed. I've cried when she has come to comfort me telling me I would be okay or we would be okay. I cried during Irma when we were sleeping in a huge pile of uncertainty ready to face the storm. But no, I didn't cry on her last day of school.

School stuff is cute and cuddly, for sure, but she's still so little. She's not on some path to Harvard. She's just being a kid. I want to let her be as much of a kid as she can. I also work full time and have all kinds of mental health things to work out, a husband to support in more ways than one, and a household to run so volunteering to pass out juice in class isn't a priority.

I don't buy her "first day" outfits. I don't perfectly manicure pictures of her much. I let her be herself as much as possible because she is growing up fast and sometimes I just want to sit back and watch. I don't want to fight over homework or projects, I just want to sit back in awe of her becoming a grown person and know that I helped make that happen.

Any moms that make time to be very hands on are my heroes, but it just ain't me. I'm not the mom that will make fantastic snacks and set up elaborately constructed play dates. I'm not the mom that keeps her in style and up with the cool trends. 

I'm the mom that feels the overwhelming emotion when I see her have a thoughtful reaction to a friend or loved one in need. I'm the mom that wells up when she decides to unload the dishwasher without being asked, because she wants to let mommy rest. I'm the mom that snuggles and does face masks and makes popcorn and lets her do what she wants (within reason).

I'm not sure where that all fits on the Cry-O-Meter for motherhood but it definitely triggers some interesting feelings. When I have other moms ask if I've cried or not I just try to play it off kindly because at this stage in my life, I'm just so happy with how far we've come and so consumed with keeping positive momentum, that I don't have time to cry over how fast time is going, rather I just want to enjoy the fact that I get to be in her life.

This isn't to say that moms that cry out of missing their babies be babies are some how inferior or "wussy" or "soft" in any way! I'm always there to hug you and hand you the tissues! I just don't get hit that way and props to you for letting it all come out!

I think we all have weird Cry-O-Meter dials and some days are better than others. I think all moms feel like they fail regularly, sometimes even daily, but what's important is that we are moms! We just have to mother the crap out of them no matter how many tears! And with those thoughts, I usher in the summer before I have a first grader. Here we go!

Intimidation Station

My husband and I had a conversation about family stuff and he mentioned that with certain people I come off as intimidating. I'd never really thought about my being intimidating but more that I just don't hide being annoyed.

When I got home I said to him, "I'm not so sure about this whole me looking intimidating thing. Because at work I had someone tell me she wasn't feeling so well, so she was heading to the bathroom and I wanted to say 'Eww, don't tell me that,' and I always prefer not to be bothered and look generally annoyed and yet no one gets the hint!" My husband laughed and rolled his eyes.

He said, "Yeah that's work Alison who wants to avoid conflict and just be left alone to get through her day. They all probably think you just have resting bitch face." He then went on to say that when I'm on my home turf, and when I'm standing firmly, I can bring on the intimidation. It left me thinking a bit.

I wouldn't say I had good or bad self esteem necessarily, or maybe I wouldn't even say I had any at all, but there are certainly times when I am completely no nonsense. I'm not sure if I've hardened with age, or I just have a stronger no-bullshit-o-meter. I very much wear the "do not harm but take no shit" mantra.

It was just a funny thing for him to have brought to my attention, mostly because I've inadvertently conditioned myself to carry myself certain ways depending on the company, or the situation. My sisters can feel when I'm pre-meltdown and about to lose my cool. My dad helps even me out by responding in calm ways to keep me calm. My mom is probably what taught me to be intimidating and rely on resting bitch face, not because that's what she does, but because that's how I've had to handle myself with her.

I think we armor ourselves with certain things to get us through whatever we are in the middle of. When I'm walking downtown I usually have headphones in or I'm on the phone. This is so no homeless dudes or survey people approach me for inappropriate commentary, to ask for change or to get too close to my personal space bubble. I feel like these are polite and socially acceptable ways of saying "No thanks, just passing through."

After watching an old favorite Dane Cook skit, I remembered him talking about saying something to someone who sneezed on him and he said, "I said, 'God Bless You,' but I said it in the tone of 'Cover your f***ing mouth.'" I kind of feel like that might be the best description for my general demeanor when in a mood. I can say the nice things but in a snarky way so you know I'm not having it.

But as far as being intimidating, I feel like that's a compliment. One thing I never want to portray is any kind of weakness. I like being a veiled threat of a human, like I don't look so bad until you unleash the kracken type of thing, haha or so I would hope.

I'm very often underestimated, and I try to use that to my advantage honestly. I also just have no room to be messed with anymore. If you are going to come at me with some ridiculousness, disrespect or no consideration, I'm not going to sit idly by. It's taken me years to own my story, and I'm not going backwards, only forwards.

On the other hand, I don't live to scare people by any means. Most people don't get the intimidation vibe from me in general, until they piss me off. That's when, what my old friend used to so beautifully put, I will "set you ablaze with my eyes."

I think as women we learn that we have to bring something more to the table and be the mom/employee/friend/wife/woman that doesn't put up with nonsense and we all carry that differently. For me, apparently, I come across intimidating but I think that's okay.

I am sassy, sarcastic and cynical. These are the things I wear as my armor, now I'm adding on some intimidating stuff because I'm growing and not being afraid to be me. I wish I could be offended that my husband brought it up but I'm still keeping it as a compliment, no matter how silly that sounds. 

Maybe Michael Scott has been right all along!

The Parenting Wall

We've all had those moments. Those moments when you're just done parenting. It's time to tap out. Those times when you hit, the parenting wall.

 

The pictures above are from a favorite indie film, Run Fatboy Run, where they talk about the "runner's wall," that every marathon runner hits. Well, all of us parents hit the parenting wall too.

I hit my parenting wall on Saturday around 8PM. My daughter may actually speak more than she breathes, and car rides are grueling in every way. Between the, "Are we there yet's?," the complaints in general, asking for the snacks, arguing about the music and random fits where I have to distract her so as not to tantrum, anything over 20 minutes and she loses it.

We had a great Saturday but there was a lot of car time, and a lot of people to see. When we got home around 7:45PM from being on the go since 9AM, I was just so done. I just wanted to eat something real and rest but, alas, I still had adulting to do.

By the time I sat down to eat at 8:45PM, my powers were diminishing rather than renewing. My daughter started in about sleeping in our room instead of hers and I had lost the will to scold or argue. By 9:45PM we were tucked in and ready to go in the big bed. By 3AM I was wedged between her and the dog but was luckily too exhausted to struggle and just gave into only "okay" sleep.

I mustered my way around the wall a bit on Sunday, but then cleaned our whole house, and when my husband walked in, the wall had rebuilt to the point of no return. I WAS DONE PARENTING. I HIT THE PARENTING WALL. I tapped out. I threw a tantrum at my husband and that was it.

After many conversations with amazing people, I've realized that we hit the parenting wall repeatedly. And it's completely okay.

There are no real guide books on parenting. I mean there are, but they won't fix every situation because every kid is so different, as is every family. You can ask for advice and ask what to do, but the best thing is still going to be going with your gut and all your natural instincts. 

Kids are smart. They talk back. They make questionable choices. We're supposed to guide these little beings while still trying to figure out our own stuff. What kind of crap is that, right? It's life, though.

Today, I just offered to listen. Then I offered a solution and offered up different ways to help. I offered up what worked on me in my childhood. Yesterday, I listened, I offered support and was reminded that everything is just one day at a time, and it's okay to step back from what you feel is overwhelming.

Parenting is overwhelming...at every stage in life. If your 6 year old is sassy and talking back, or if your 13 year old is acting out and evading your parental advice, or your 20-something year old isn't pulling their weight around the house, you'll hit your parenting wall and you just have to scale it, and come back on the other side.

This is easier said than done. No one "parents right." No one has some perfect kid. We are all just doing what we can, and that's all we can do. Everything is temporary. That is a fact and also cliche.

You'll hit the wall, sometimes even daily, but you still prevail, right? It's normal. It's okay, and you're not remotely alone in the struggle. Kid and family time is such an intensive blessing, but we are also all humans who need a break too. You gotta find your balance. And remember, just because you hit the wall or want to tap out, it doesn't mean you aren't trying. You're doing better than you think you are! Carry that with you; up and over that wall if you need to! Tomorrow is another day, so until then!

Gutters, Glitter and Getting Comfortable in Adulthood

My daughter just got out some Glitter that was a gift and is dumping glitter on glue. Comedian Demitri Martin says, "Glitter is the herpes of craft products." My husband has a serious glitter aversion. He very much hates them.

After a work out and a calm morning, I came home with a slight headache prompting my husband to take my daughter to the hardware store with him to get more gutter pieces to work on stuff with the house. I rested, rebooted and started on the chores.

We made plans for this day that have since fizzled, but I'm actually okay with it all. I guess this weekend kicked my butt. After an enlightening conversation, I've realized that through everything, not only have I maintained a good outlook in general, but I'm making the best of what's in front of me and I feel proud. This is a rarity for me.

We're a little bit in debt, but crawling out well. We have our structure and our plans. We have some fun things planned for us that I'm looking forward to also. We're growing and doing our best. 

Moreover, the gutters and glitter and just continued metaphors for life. We borrowed more than I'd like from savings for gutters because it's rainy season and it's a small home improvement thing that we need. There is glitter all over my table, my bench and a pan and spoon but, we'll clean up the mess as best we can. I mean, what else can we do.

Doing the best you can with the situation at hand is such a task sometimes, but it's all you can do. I finally caught up with a friend and was asking about long-term plans only to get the answer "I don't know what's going on, I just have to take things as they come." I laughed and replied, "Hey, one day at a time is all you can do sometimes, that's how I roll."

Adulthood is rough. It super sucks honestly, but we all have to live it. It's all what you make of it. That theme is so important. It is imperative that you stay positive even when you don't want to. 

After getting some serious rest and actually having time to chill I can now appreciate the process, the struggle and the growth more than when I'm cranky and hangry. Yesterday I was not in a great place so I couldn't find my positive vibes. 

Memorial day can come with a lot of mixed feelings for many people and I don't think of it as just BBQ day. I invite you to take some time and think about how far we've come because of the people who fought for us, and how far you've come personally because of your fight for yourself. Just enjoy the day because we're back to the grind tomorrow!

Clean Home, Nacho Tantrums, Dane Cook

To quote the Princess Bride, "Let me explain, no it's too much, let me sum up."

I'm beyond exhausted and I hit my wall. My hubby surprised me with coffee, I conquered the whole going to church thing, stopped at Target to get a birthday gift and then home to clean for 3 hours. Yes it was baseboard day. This was after yesterday we did Horseback riding, then came home to pack for visiting my cousin and her new baby, and then say goodbye to great friends, back near our house.

I finally hit my wall when my husband asked me what I wanted for dinner. How dare he. He deviated from my plans I had mentally laid out and not communicated and how dare he?!? Yes, I was tired, hangry and being ridiculous.

I threw a tantrum until he finally offered to make me my secret pleasure pig out food, nachos. Then he put on our favorite Dane Cook live comedy from the tour we saw, and left me to be lazy. Sometimes he's not that bad, and sometimes exhaustion is for good reason.

I haven't had much time to think, let alone watch, so here I am, with another tiny post, telling you that I will get it back on track Tuesday. Thanks for sticking with me readers!

The 9PM Too Tired To Post Post

You thought I forgot? I've been out all day and immediately came home to mom chores. Weekends are rough. I'm too tired to be all artistic and poetic. But I will have a real post after I scour my house tomorrow. 

Caring Characters

I'll always be my own worst critic of my parenting. I will forever feel like I should have a "bad mom" stamp on my forehead. I let my child watch lots of TV, I don't buy her stuff often, and I am particular about play dates. I'm the worst!

There's a lot where I feel less bad, though. I struggle when I see the traits that I loathe about myself come out in her. One habit I have is having a hard time when plans change. She amplifies it more than I do. So I've been working on it with her. I've explained, "It's okay to be upset and disappointed. It's frustrating when things change but sometimes they do. How about since we can't do what was planned we try something else?" It's been a process.

It's hard to tell how much good you're doing, too! Are you even making a difference? Last week there was an incident that just showed me, that indeed, I'm not doing so terribly after all.

We had stumbled upon a packed and scheduled day. There was a play date, horseback riding lessons and 2 birthday parties to attend. I took a huge step back and a huge deep breath knowing that I was in for an exhausting day. Friday I went to bed early in preparation.

Saturday I woke up to texts from my daughter's horseback riding instructor informing me that she could not be there and we had no sub for her lesson. It was a weird blessing in disguise for us, but the reason for the cancellation was her instructor's mother had been in a car accident and was stable and okay, but recovering. I explained to my daughter that her instructor's mom was "sick" and I was sorry that her plans changed. 

My daughter paused and said, "Mom is the rest of the day normal? I'm playing with my friend and we're going to both parties?" I said, "yes." She said, "Mom I'm not sad that I can't go to horseback riding lessons, but I'm really sad that my instructor's mom is sick and I hope she gets better." 

I just melted internally. I commended her for her reaction and thoughtfulness. These are the moments that make every argument and every single sassy moment count. These are the reminders that maybe I'm not the worst.

This morning my daughter received the Kindergarten character award for "Caring." She was so proud and so excited. I was probably just as proud and excited, but kept my cool. I love that I'm raising a caring kid. I love that I'm raising a good character, in more ways than one.

It's funny how her independence makes her a little care-giver sometimes. She has some serious "only-child" moments, but she is fiercely protective of her friends and family. That is one of those qualities I like to think I passed on to her, and will serve her well.

It's funny what we take pride in with our children as they grow. I love my child's vocabulary. The other day we were saying something about the way her dad does something and my awesome 6 year old said, "I agree!" She also talks about losing her "privileges" a lot, because we threaten that as a consequence, and I think it's safe and accurate to say that she doesn't stop talking. Seriously, I dare you to test this.

I love her imagination and ability to be independent and do her own thing but also love her socialization time. I love how tenacious she is when she wants to figure out stuff on her own. I love that she's a creature of habit like me. She's kind of just the best, but I may be biased.

Her character is still developing but I love watching as much of it as I'm lucky enough to have. She's a caring character, and my greatest blessing. I adore her to no end. Even when she drives me insane, I love her the most. And I can't wait to spend the 3 day weekend with my little caring character!

Poetic Playlists And Powerful Prowess

Does anyone else have playlists they default to based on their mood or current goings on? Or is that just me? Every time I need a reminder that I can be a bad ass and am mentally and spiritually strong, I somehow default to Dashboard Confessional. Besides the fact the lead singer is completely delicious and their words are poetry, I feel comfort knowing that they have written about what I have personally felt. Today is brought to you by "Bend And Not Break:"

I catalog these steps now, decisive and intentioned,

precise and patterned specifically to yours.

I'm talented at breathing, especially exhaling,

so that my chest will rise and fall with yours.

I'm careful not to wake you, fearing conversation.

It's better just to hold you and keep you pacified.

I'm talented with reason, I cover all the angles.

I can fail before I ever try.

Try to understand, there is an old mistake that fools will make.

And I'm the kind of them, pushing everything that's good away.

So won't you hold me now? I will not bend, I will not break.

Won't you hold me now? For you I rise for you I fall.

I am fairly agile. I can bend and not break.

Or I can break and take it with a smile.

I am so resilient. I recover quickly.

I'll convince you soon that I am fine. 

So this song is a reminder for me, of the struggle to coexist. I'm opening the doors to start talking about this with a lot of close friends and family, which is insanely difficult for me. I have had to maintain a powerful prowess and keep up appearances, and with that, so many people have made assumptions about me that are now keeping us from successfully relating to one another.

I take full responsibility for this. It has been my armor to not over-share or let people in. It has also been part of my denial and justifications of bad situations, to feel like they "probably knew," and just chose to stay separate. Guess what? Bridging these gaps, feels super volatile right now.

Living in the shadows of rough times can make you feel the need to "keep you pacified." It makes you, "talented with reason, I cover all the angles, I can fail before I ever try." As a classic over-thinker, when I needed help the most, when I wanted to tell family how it was, I then pictured the disappointment about not being able to handle my own life, and being told how I was to fix it, and not being heard, so I just stayed quiet, "pacified," and failed even before I tried.

It has taken years to come to terms with and own it all and here I am. Ironically, it's now that I'm faced with avoiding some cacti in the desert, so to speak, and if I'm not careful, I will get scratched while going forward on my journey. I willingly admitted today that I'm due for a therapy session on how best to handle not being so prickly. 

While hanging onto the facade of having it together, I actually put myself back together. Some noticed, some haven't a clue. And now that I'm finally standing back up without being so wobbly, I refuse to fall again, if I can avoid it. I've recently tackled a lot of my feelings of being disrespected and feel like I'm healing there, so the prospect of this being threatened is throwing me.

I have some issues with politeness and etiquette, I've found. I learned young that you may not be in love with a gift from someone, or even really want to keep it, but a gift is a gift so you say thank you and show appreciation. I also learned that when it comes to any shared household and marriages, you thank both parties in a household for any gift or hospitality. What I mean is and for example, say your childhood friend has a dad that's a lawyer and a stay-at-home mom. You don't just go thank the dad for the gift because he makes money. You thank the dad and the mom and the kid because, as a family, they gave you something. Small things like this make huge differences to me, I'm learning and I feel like these variances in gratitude speak worlds.

Resentment has always been a struggle for me; always. I think it's part of the world of addiction and that addiction is still so forgotten to be a family disease. Spouses and children of addicts are always seen as so separate from the issue of the addict, so it gets hazy and often feels unfair. So I do resent all avenues of feeling unrecognized for my growth while being submersed in addictive circumstances.

I've had to be strong when I didn't want to. I've had to take charge when I didn't know if I could. I had to clean up the mess with no help and no hope. I've had to stay positive when surrounded by a million reasons to be negative. And because I'm human, I'd like to get a little "Attagirl," from the ones who noticed at the very least.

In some ways I have gotten that validation, but currently I stare in the face of a situation where not only do I not have any acknowledgement, but straight ignorance, and I'm struggling. I can bend, but not break.

I wish I had the power to "not care." I desperately wish I could shrug it off and walk away. But to quote Arya Stark, "That's not me." What is me, now, is recognizing ALL OF THIS; especially through the power of a poetic song and amazing Dashboard Confessional playlist that I made. I will be working heavily on navigating these feelings and I'm sure this will have a follow up post. But any suggestions are welcome too! 

Away I go to keep trying to grow!

Are Unicorns Real?

I remember when Christmas lost it's magic in my adolescence. My parents had been in and out of separation and my dad knew that the jig was up about Santa so they just wrapped the presents and left them under the tree as they bought them. I was about 12, and I was left home alone from time to time when my dad was working extra. So every time I was home alone I'd pick under that tree and shake things to see if I got what I wanted on the list. By Christmas morning all of my predictions were not only true, but it totally took away all the fun and any kind of surprise.

I always loved the innocence of imagination and getting lost in fantasy-type stuff. This is why my favorite movie of all time remains, The Princess Bride. Believing that X-Files was partially true was way better than facing what was going on at home. The idea that Pleasantville was remotely possible was fun to imagine. And I was that almost-teenager at Disney who still wanted to meet characters and believed in the magic of it all. 

My daughter came home the other day and said "Mom, so and so said that unicorns aren't real. Are unicorns real?" I said "Yeah! I definitely think they are," with gusto! Why wouldn't I? Being in the magic with kids, is everything and when they lose that, things get a little less fun.

When I nanny-ed for so long, I used to rebuff any of their "realizations" because I never wanted some kid to ruin it for them. It was my job to protect them, not make them grow up. There is some version of Santa for everyone, but anyone who ruins the magic for my child purposefully might get a throat-punch, just saying. 

At a birthday party last weekend my daughter announced that her mom said there were unicorns and the birthday girl said, "Are there really unicorns?" I said, "I certainly think there are." Her little face lit up.

In my house, instead of Elf on the Shelf, which I have issues with, we have Sandy Klaws. This isn't some thing to "make my child act right." This is a character from A Nightmare Before Christmas, a household favorite movie that carries us from Halloween to Christmas, and all he does is create mischief. Every day she wakes up wondering what he did. It's so fun, and she loves it. Here he is:

She actually believes that Sandy Klaws, who is the size of a Barbie I might add, put together her loft bed on Christmas Eve and rearranged her room. For a second, I wanted the credit because we did all the work after all. The next morning she awoke to Sandy Klaws having put together her dollhouse. Again, I wanted the credit! But the way she runs to school to tell these tales and loves them so much, makes it all worth it.

I love that she believes that the entire realm of My Little Pony exists. I love that at Disney she thinks she's met all the characters from her favorite movies and that pixie dust protects her at home. She deserves to have that fun and innocence and it always makes me sad when kids get jaded out of it. 

By age 13, I was that kid. I got hit so hard by reality that I lost the ability to believe in nonsense. Now watching Mary Poppins and Hook and such, I realize how much growing up stinks and I miss the days where I truly believed that when my cousin got Jumanji for Christmas, we would end up IN the game!

I guard the magic for my daughter, pretty carefully. I fully enforce all magic and whimsy. A few years ago we took my best friend and her 3 almost-teen girls to Harry Potter World, and she said she didn't know who looked like they were more impressed and entranced, me or her children. If you're going to go in, go ALL IN.

At Disney, magic is everywhere and so easy to perpetuate. I never regret any money or time we have spent there because my daughter remembers how much fun and adventure we had in that realm. She recounts conversations with characters and getting autographs. She believes that characters actually bought her those free Mickey Bars she used to get. 

So, damn straight unicorns are real! We live in a world where kids being allowed to be kids is being restricted into smaller and smaller time frames. We keep them so busy and they are so immersed in all avenues of pop culture with social media, they can get jaded more easily. That innocence is a click away from disappearing altogether.

I protect my daughter's magic because that's part of being a mom. I've almost outed the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny out of exhaustion and bad planning, which wouldn't ruin her life, but I just want to give her a stellar childhood to walk into adult life with.

I loved the years of playing with my dolls, make-believe, playing outside, creating weird games, and having fun with my friends. I want more of the same for her and intend to guard it all.

So in my house, Unicorns are real. Santa and Sandy Klaws co-exist only Santa brings the presents and Sandy Klaws brings the silly. The Easter Bunny is real. The tooth fairy is real. When she hits her Harry Potter phase she better know that wands are totally real but won't work unless she's at Hogwarts and she can apply to Hogwarts if she wants. 

Whether other parents like it or not, I intend to be the Czar of Majestic Whimsy and will tell your children all magic exists. Even leprechauns, which are slightly offensive to gingers depending on the connotation, just saying. Stay innocent while you can, I intend to keep my kid that way as long as possible. 

Honesty About Circumstance

I think it's so difficult to be honest about your circumstance, whether current or past. In a world where we are "supposed to have it together" and where Social Media defines the societal norms of posting happy families, fantastic vacations and epic gift exchanges, why would you want to be honest about going through a rough patch or being deep in the weeds at times?

Denial is real. Justification can rule your world, whether intentional or not. You never want to believe you, your family or even close friends could be in a bad way, so we often numb, put it out of our minds, and power through. These are coping mechanisms for the storms, aren't they? Because honesty about life is sometimes worse than what you're actually living. We want to hide our vulnerabilities, insecurities and everything we deem as failures.

I've been in therapy for two years dealing with it all. I'm not remotely "cured" but the progress is finally breaking through and noticeable, and boy am I going with it. I hid my circumstance from everyone for a long, long time. Or I'd let it come out at the worst times and then further alienate myself. Finding the balance has been intense, but it's been worth it, in my experience.

You can know people for a long time before actually getting to know someone. You can have one version of them imprinted in your mind and never get past the facade they want you to see. Or you'll bear something deep and in common, and break down those barriers. Those barrier-break moments, have been everything to me the past few years. They have identified my tribe.

I treat lightly on the form of honesty and with whom because I grew up very aware of upholding an image and how to keep up appearances. Some people I would never share all the details with. Some I would overshare until they were sick of me. Again, balance.

I've had to be more honest and some of it is actually freeing. Some of it probably comes out completely wrong or is almost un-explainable. Some of it paints me negatively. But at least I'm not hiding behind circumstance making myself "look prettier" than what is actually going on anymore.

I've been honest about how I spend my time, which has elicited mixed reviews. I don't have the energy to volunteer and give everyone more of me right now, and haven't for awhile. I'm actually trying to be kind to myself and repair a lot of personal life damages inflicted so it won't work to serve others if I can barely care for myself. This comes across as selfish, but I finally realize it's not at all. I refuse to give in to the obligatory and max myself out, especially for situations that lack gratitude and appreciation.

I've been honest about how work affects my life. Right now I've barely seen my hubby and planning things more than a few days ahead of time is near impossible. My mom is helping less and less, or at least it is purely determinate on the kind of help she is giving. Our sitter is already too busy and we don't have many convenient options. I also drive a lot during the week and on Saturday mornings. By Sunday it's touch and go on whether or not I will go more than a mile outside the harbor. Planning stinks unless I know everyone is off and home together, which can still change on a dime these days.

I've been honest about how I've constructed my lifestyle and what it keeps me from doing. I can't just leave my kid for a weekend or even an overnight more than once a year. Why? My life is designed to be her mom, not to get away from her. We also don't have a readily available support system for that. It takes careful planning. Regardless I want to be around my child. Sure, we all need a break, but she's only this little for so long. I don't want to be away from her much, even when she drives me nuts, so I've designed my life as such.

I've been more honest about finances. We are rebounding from some serious debt. I'm really, really bad at having debt. It stresses me out to no end. We both have made many financial mistakes in growth, and are literally paying for them. We live on a strict budget that sometimes keeps us paycheck to paycheck. We don't eat out often. We don't go shopping for "things" often. Vacations are centered around family visits. We don't spend frivolously, no matter how much we may want to. 

I've been honest about friendships. I've lost touch with people over the past 6 years that have hurt so badly and I never got closure and I owe a million apologies because I let my circumstance drive them away. Some people outgrew me. I outgrew some people myself. I've also held onto toxic relationships that were harmful just because of my circumstances or straight stubbornness. Identifying that, is a huge step in the right direction of progress for me, and I tell myself that regularly.

It sucks saying out loud, "I messed up and made bad choices. I didn't really think things through. I overspent. I overbought. I didn't pay attention. I was a bad friend or bad mom, or bad wife or bad daughter. I was bad at staying in touch. I was selfish. I was WRONG." All of those SUCK to admit! They suck to say to anyone, let alone someone in your immediately family, but that's the only way to grow.

This isn't some "honesty is the best policy" diatribe, okay, I'm not going to be a hypocrite about that. I'm not always honest about why I'm late to work, or why I can't make plans that day, because it also sucks to say "I overslept because I was up late in an argument with my husband," or "I'm so overwhelmed the thought of being social right now makes me want to eat 3 cartons of ice cream and disappear for a month," is a little too much information. So sometimes it's easier to say "I left a little later than intended and hit bad traffic," or "I forgot I already made plans that night that are conflicting." In a previous job where I was getting demoted and I wanted to say, "I'm going through a rough time at home right now trying to find my way out of a bad situation, so I need to not be demoted and in a negative environment please," I ended up quitting and saying, "I'm just going to be a mom for awhile." Honestly doesn't always pan out as applicable, if we're being honest about honesty!

Having been raised in addiction, I'm actually well versed on the different variances of honesty, so for me, being honest about your circumstance isn't some statute that will make you happier, go to heaven or even set you free. For me, being honest about your circumstance helps me feel less guilty, ashamed and filled-with-failure, rather than continuing some charade. For me, embracing the honesty about my circumstance is cultivating the continuation of my growth. 

At the end of the day, I just want to be able to scrape myself off of the pavement of life, look in mirror and say "You grow girl." And for the last few weeks, I have been able to do that.

Pace, Place and Space; Wherever You Are

I had more friend interactions this weekend that left me with leftover food for thought if you will, and I think it's important to share the thoughts, no matter how they may be perceived.

To preface some metaphorical fun, I'm not a "runner." If anything, I jog. It might even be the "yog" that Ron Burgundy describes, honestly.

Whatever you want to call it, I often reference myself as a "turtle running in peanut butter." For the races I have done, I love that no matter how slow, I just keep a pace. I might not be out of breath or about to die but I'm going, and slowly but surely, I watch many of the "fit moms" slow, stop and walk, or just give up. All the while, I just keep my pace and finish.

After recent discussions and phases of life I just kind of realized, everyone's pace is so different. We all grow and move at entirely different speeds and paces. Guess what? There's nothing wrong with that at all. Especially concerning our children, where pace is everything. 

I took my daughter skating when she was 4. Worst idea ever. She ended up just plain pissed off that I could skate and she couldn't. She just wanted to skate on the carpeted section, not the "slippery" floor. She's been skating about 6 times in the past 2 years and only just this weekend did she skate with confidence, albeit with the little trainer thingy but still. She even fell and got right back up like a champ. I couldn't make her get to it sooner, it's all at her pace.

It came up in conversation that I may not have hit a certain place in my life "just yet," and then experiences where shared in wisdom. This morning I just thought, well, it's not going to be that way for everyone, it's just not. I've personally come into most places, spaces and paces much later than most of my friend group and age group. I've always attributed it to being a late bloomer, but now I just realize that they were all in difference places, spaces and going different paces.

It's all that gorgeous "comparison hangover" that my goddess idol, Kristen Bell, references in a podcast with her husband. We get so engulfed in what everyone else is doing, and no one has it down "right," or remotely "perfectly." 

It's ironic to me also that, as things are more even amidst the chaos in my life, I can be more in tune to the chaos of others. Some in my tribe are extremely like-minded and we seem to be introspectively fighting our inner battles together. Others are definitely walking in different places, spaces and at their own pace.

Personally I find more comfort in knowing my journey is different from others' rather than making it akin to someone else's, but 5 years ago I wanted to be just like a handful of others so I can't promise my uniqueness will stand through every phase change. I like knowing that I'm attempting to continue to grow. I like that I'm solo in some ways but have solidarity in others. 

Wherever you are, don't feel alone in your pace, place and space, but rather unique. It may sound lame and super cliche but for me that perspective is helpful. Life is insane. We are so busy and we see friends come and go like busboys in a restaurant;

sometimes it is overwhelming to try and "keep up." So my mission is to not do that as much. Don't keep up. Keep going, but at your own pace, in your own place and with your own space to go and grow as you need.