I Invented Binge Watching

Okay so I know this looks like some Romy and Michelle, "I invented Post-Its" thing, but you'll have to bear with me.

 

So many years ago a show aired on Showtime called "Weeds." In my young college years in a tiny one bedroom apartment with my then-boyfriend, now husband, we somehow scraped together the money for full cable plus Showtime. My mom had bought us the first season and said "This show is hilarious."

We were hooked instantly and somehow all of our friends, some 7 or 8 of us would squish into our tiny one bedroom apartment, every week to watch Weeds. This may have happened two full seasons I cannot remember. One season I was studying abroad and when I came home I literally adapted back to the Pacific Northwest time zone, by binge-watching Weeds when I couldn't sleep.

Weeds is created and written by Jenji Kohan who is now most well known for the Netflix series, Orange is the New Black. Weeds now lives in infamy for perfectly embodying the phrase "Jumped the Shark," when referencing it's weirdly tumultuous detour in Season 4. Now Weeds lasted 8 Seasons but to all die hard fans, after season 4 it was like, "This can't get worse, but let's just see I guess."

I fell in love with Weeds amazing cast and the plot line and once I was invested, I was all in. When we moved around and were struggling 20 somethings trying to figure out life, we couldn't afford cable. Season after season after season went by and what would we do? Every year they released it on DVD we would buy it THAT day and then watch the ENTIRE season with great food and laziness. Hence, I invented binge-watching.

I'd like to say it started with Weeds but really I think it started when I got my first Season of Friends. It was like a contest on who could watch the most episodes. Even when Netflix started you could only "Binge-watch" whatever you had on disk pre-streaming platforms. So if Netflix sent you 2 discs of a season with 5 disks, you were still limited.

I lived to have an entire season in my hands and devour the entire thing. It was the most relaxation I could ever have and thus my invented perfection of the binge-watch began. Other binge-watching revelations could go back to America's Next Top Model or bad VH-1 reality television shows. Remember those marathon days? Yeah, I was all over that!

This all came about because with the final season of Jenji Kohan's most recent brainchild being released onto Netflix and also my recent binge watch of Glow, I realized that the term and act of "binge watch" is such a thing so much so that many Netflix series drop that term into normal conversation. It's now fully a thing.

I started to re-watch all of Orange is the New Black and often prep for a new Season release by watching all prior episodes. I am the exact target audience of all things binge-watching so I think I should get some creative credit here.

Netflix definitely does it right. Watching a series from week to week is now agonizing and makes you feel prehistoric and completely let down.

The best part, for me, about a binge watch experience is it forces me to slow down. I do not sit still and this whole "me time" thing is such a struggle for me. So then, if I know a season is coming out I can be like "Sunday after church we are doing nothing and watching Stranger Things 3 all day!" It forces me to get stuff done and out of the way to succumb to the "chill."

I'm sure many people can't do the binge watch but for me, while breastfeeding and being a stay at home mom with this kid attached to me, it was all about binge-watching. I devoured Mad Men, the last seasons of The Office, that series The Killing was it called? I watched Glee and a bunch of other stuff I'm probably forgetting. 

I'm that weirdo who likes having stuff on in the background. It's a momentary distraction or, something to offset the other annoying walks of life. Who doesn't enjoy folding laundry with Game of Thrones in the background? Well, at least the first 7 seasons now maybe. 

I have always been that girl that cannot wait to settle into a good movie with popcorn and treats or with a pizza and undivided attention on that screen. When movies were still affordable, I'd be there just waiting to engulf myself in the drama. I still need to watch all 3 uncut versions of Lord of the Rings and all 8 Harry Potter movies in one sitting. Yes. Goals.

Maybe I should write something about "The Art of The Binge Watch," because I think I'm seriously onto something here! I digress, and the moral of all this Friday fun is, binge watching is such a thing that our patience to follow a series is waning, much like our patience without technology is dissolving. So although I fully plan to keep watching Orange Is The New Black and become a binge-watching  connoisseur, I will leave you with the wise words of the great Ferris Bueller:

Last Day Of 33, Whatcha Got For Me?

On the eve of my birthday, or as I have been referring to it this year as, "Just Tuesday the 26th," while of course saying goodbye to 33 and hello to 34, I'm almost forced into some reflection so just bear with me.

I remember last year going to an amazing concert with some of my favorite people around this time of year, running the St. Patty's 5K and I think there was ice cream cake. Not to mention, my mother's annual forced upon new fashion or a shopping trip with her. This year I am opting for as much calm and quiet as possible.

My daughter has promised me a "boutique" of flowers and as much as I didn't want to correct her, I did and told her she meant "bouquet," and I hope to snag some time to myself, a novel idea in motherhood.

I will say this, 33 has been a huge year for me personally in terms of growth and strength. Last year at this time I was still settling into things after surviving one of the worst Christmases of my lifetime. I was trying to scrape things together and stay positive, but I was feeling really hopeless and utterly alone.

This was before April, and in April my life was completely turned upside down in every way and I didn't handle it well. March, and especially my birthday, was the beginning of the chaos. At that time, I was still in a place of fight or flight and I was faced with having to support choices I didn't agree with, but sucking it up "for the greater good." It wasn't my best start to 2018.

This year has a much different vibe, more positive and affirming, and I'm proud of and happy with that. After a horrible April 2018, in May I took my life back. I really stood up for myself and my daughter and redefined our family norms. It was a bit rocky through September but we are still building, and growing. So this year, I'm just ready for 34.

Birthday wishes are great, but I no longer feel they are some kind of required barometer for a friendship or an attention level anymore. I feel grateful when someone remembers to text me, let alone remembers something as trivial as a birthday. I won't feel "forgotten" because people have lives and any relationship is complicated and scattered at times. Not getting a nod on a Facebook wall or a text the day of won't break my birthday or get anyone in trouble.

There aren't many years of my 34 on earth that I can recall the kind of strength and growth that I've manifested, especially over these last 6 months, so I want to celebrate that, more than anything else within the birthday. As an only child, my mom cannot help herself when it comes to making it a "thing," no matter how much I beg to just have some ice cream cake and call it a day. My husband gets annoyed I ruin my own requests by buying myself the stuff I need instead of waiting for him to do it for me.

I've decided that Jenny Lewis' new album "On The Line" was released as a birthday gift to me, as she is my spirit animal and one of my most favorite artists. She also starts her tour tomorrow, in Indiana unfortunately, but I can rock from here, regardless. I've been replaying her album as part of my reflective time because she usually writes and records all the feels I need, and somehow exactly when I need them. So, little things like this I consider part of the celebration.

For 34 I want continued growth, strength and bravery. I want to become less and less afraid to stand up for myself in every situation. Ironically this past weekend I had a recurring nightmare about still working in a place where I was made to feel intimidated, inferior and where my needs and requests were consistently ignored only to wake up disgustingly grateful that I'm no longer there. I'll take that as a good sign that I'm in a better place.

Also this weekend my family seemed to master "the chill," of which I am completely the worst. We did some household chores and some necessary upkeep, but we were lazy and watched too much TV, ate what we wanted, had a family sleepover, slept in and just bummed around. It's not something we indulge in often, even though it is necessary. On top of that, I had good conversations with favorite people about struggles and growth and about how we just need to face certain things head on anymore. We're too young to take it for granted and too old to mess around, and I think those two are interchangeable.

So 33, what else have you got for me? I'm ready for more with 34 and yes those all kinda rhyme in weird ways. Maybe the corny, dorky stuff comes with age too. Here's to growing up!

The Etiquette Of Feelings

Yesterday I got disappointing news, which will be delved into via blogging soon enough, but I've had quite an interested communicative 24 hours and I'm going to jump into that today. Here we go!

I'm a highly-sensitive over-thinker, it is a blessing and a curse. When you attract people to you that lack empathy, it's torture, but when you find anyone who remotely attempts to "get you" it's like discovering a gold mine. The rollercoaster of emotions can be tough but I've been working very, very hard to better reach a medium.

I've been binge-ing way too much 90210 so when I got the bad news, I felt like organizing some kind of "Donna Martin Graduates" picket line or showing everyone we needed to "Save The Peach Pit," and write editorial type letters and go up against the big guys to save the little ones! Then I decided to just look at the alternatives and attempt to move forward.

I've done a lot of talking myself out of anxious situations lately and was actually complimented on it yesterday. It's so weird how we react to certain things and then people seem to be impressed by how well we manage those reactions. When I was 19, I had a boyfriend that was not a great guy. He lied to me a lot, stole from me often, probably cheat on me, and raised his hand to me threatening a hit a time or two.

When his roommates got wind of his pill problem and money issues, he was evicted, and I was on vacation only to come home to him picking me up at the airport 5 hours late and then having him attempt to turn me against some of my best friends. When I got home and heard from the roommates, at first I was in denial, there was no way it all came to that point. Once the issue was in front of me, and he had "borrowed" my car and my laptop, I just had get my stuff back and begin to repair the damage. 

I was only 19, so we weren't "in love," but I thought maybe he actually cared about me. And when I found out all the deceit and that I'd lost money and some dignity, instead of throwing a tantrum I just thought, "Well, you learned a valuable lesson." One of his roommates was left on "Ali watch" and spent the day with me, the TV and a pizza and I remember him saying, "Ya know Alison, I gotta say, I really respect the way you're handling this. You don't deserve it. He was an asshole, but I admire you for keeping it together and moving forward instead of flipping out." 

That's an odd but affirming compliment right? These kinds of sentiments I've experienced more lately. But I've also discovered that I deeply feel we lack a basic foundation of etiquette when  it comes to people share their feelings anymore. 

Now, in this day and age I hate throwing around the word "Normal." A favorite person in my life about 13 years ago said to me, "Normal is what you know." Based on that definition, and in my experience, when people share a disappointment, upset or loss it's often normal to say, "I'm sorry," or "That sucks," or "What a shame!" Something along those lines would suffice, but lately I have found these sentiments to be elusive.

Emotions are rough territory for everyone, but I tread lightly because more and more I feel that everyone just needs some kindness and support, no matter what their situation. With my daughter when she throws a fit I often tell her "I'm so glad you are sharing your feelings and expressing what's going on, but we can find the solution and it's important to calm down so we can figure this out." She responds so much better to that than my yelling about dealing with things, which can happen after a long day.

I've had friends tell me about great deals of stress on them from finances, relationships, jobs, children, and then some and I always try to listen intently and just say, "I'm sorry that happened," in one way or another. Usually you're met with "Don't apologize it's not your fault," but the CONDOLENCES are important to me; I'm showing I care and acknowledge that things are kinda crappy in that moment.

I haven't found the same kinds of responses from people lately, and it honestly makes me feel alienated and inclined to recoil from social interactions. We live in a world where suicide rates are high and when we lose those lives the stories are all, "They seemed fine, they were always happy, they brought so much joy." So, I think validation and acknowledgement of feelings are completely essential.

I had a friend tell me that schedules were so insane, that planning was rough and if a plan happened it would be last minute. I suck at those kinds of things. I'm a planner. It was in the midst of this conversation the text appeared and read, "I won't know my availability until later, and that's not fair to you." I just sat and read that for a minute. "That's not fair," I read again. Talk about a momentary affirmation and little win! Finally, my explanation of how hard it was for my anxiety and personality to plan like that was not only acknowledged, but respected wonderfully, with a single text! It was that response that helped me let down my guard and be more flexible, allowing for a joint, and "fair" planning to commence.

The thing is, I overthink enough to know that everyone operates on their own wavelength so I put a lot of energy into not becoming offended or upset when people don't have the response I'm looking for, but it doesn't take away that feeling of disappointment when you reach out to someone, and they aren't reaching back.

Some of my closest friends I've found in the past handful of years have been the people I can share my weirdest disappointments with but respond with a simple, "That sucks I'm sorry!" In fact I had a great girl friend text me when I was sad I had to get rid of my spin class and say "I know how much you loved spin and I'm sorry you can't go anymore." HOW AMAZING, but simple, IS THAT?

We are in a world where feelings are rampant and ever present in each exchange, text message and post. The inspirational quotes, the deep but maybe sad quotes, the silly memes, the ridiculous gifs, and the jokes are all the feels being shared. Basic etiquette asks for an acknowledgment of them. Why do you think Facebook has "likes," and now has "reaction" emojis? It's an acknowledgment. We need this more outwardly I feel, or maybe I just thrive on this more than most.

I encourage anyone to check in with each other and acknowledge. It could be a post about a crap day and a text that says "Hope tomorrow is better!" It could be a favorite show getting cancelled, it could be a bounced check and overdraft fee, it could be a family member dying or a cancer diagnosis, but when someone shares something that is affecting them, I hope we can all take a moment to just say, "That's rough," or "I'm so sorry you're going through that." We are quick to jump to applauding the great news, and quicker to divert to side stepping the uncomfortable news. 

As far as all of these feels being published online, I just ask that we find a happy medium and not let a friend's feelings fall by the wayside. Life is hard enough, we need way more kindness and affirmation, and way less disregard. With that said, I'm going to check in with a bunch of people and get to supporting and acknowledging. I consider it research for this post and of course, will report back. 

Mindful Mothering

I envision that the tales of my childhood will someday be book-worthy. If I could ever write the full scope, it could be a best seller. But for now, with only the blog and short bursts of writing time, we'll condense it by topic.

Last year when planning my daughter's 5th birthday, my mother reminded me that it was about that time in my childhood, when she checked out mentally and retired from motherhood. I like to refer to it as "when the shit got real." For my daughter and I, as soon as VPK and Kindergarten hit, it's a whole new realm of mothering and for some, or maybe just me, it was uncomfortable at first, even unfriendly.

My mom mentally left the idea of being a mom when I was 5 and physically left when I was about 12. The timeline can get fuzzy unless you have my mom and I start reminiscing and then it's a fight for who remembers what better, and the "right way."

Through the worst few years of my personal life, I successfully "checked out" mentally for just under 6 months. And I was still her mom, I just was a super selfish one. When I couldn't keep up with life and wasn't even getting what I thought the results should be out of my "selfish phase," I had a heart to heart with myself and quit being so ridiculous and started to deal and then heal. Okay the real story also involves being "scared straight" to a degree, but again, I have a book to write people. I have to keep some mystery.

For whatever reason, at a young age I realized rather quickly that my mom was not like other moms. In fact I used to call her Cindy and not mom because "Everyone else calls her Cindy, why wouldn't I?," I said. I used to say about the moms that cooked, sewed and did hair and nails they were "Like, real moms."

My mom never cooked. My mom bought clothes, she didn't sew them, but my dad did. My mom never let me wear make-up. She took me to get fancy hair cuts and told me she'd kill me if I ever colored or permed my hair. I never had my nails done. She hated nail polish and my dad hated that it stained everything.

I don't remember my mom taking me to do anything with her, just driving me to and from appointments and play dates, and buying me stuff. This isn't to say she never spent time with me, but nothing sticks out as what my daughter would call "quality time"

Recently I discovered that living with my mom had some weird affects on me. She spent a year with us after the car accident and I reverted to the same behavior I used the year of high school I lived with her. It was rough on us both, but, we made it through relatively unscathed.

If you ask her now, she says I took advantage of her living with us. She's not wrong, there was a degree of that, but she also will never know the full story of everything else going on with my personal and family life, even as we were under the same roof. And in my hour of need, when I put myself out there saying, "Mom, I might really need your help," she said no. 

Generally, I admit I feel like a "bad mom," whether it's working too much, or not enough, yelling too much, not engaging enough or just not being involved more. There are a lot of expectations for moms, way more than when my mom was raising me I feel. And the fact that I'm only 6 years in and have failed at some things a time or two, ugh, I hate that so much and I've worked on getting my ass in gear.

Some of the people closest to me remind me that I'm a good mom, which usually makes me ugly cry, but "Momming ain't easy." Some days are much better than others. Last night my daughter and I had some serious quality time, and the past two weeks for us have been so much better in general, that I feel like I'm turning a corner and working on being that "good mom" that others seem to see in there.

I've decided that this newfound mothering mentality comes from my mindfulness stuff. Or should I say that mindfulness just spans every aspect of my mentality now, including motherhood. I had my "ah-ha moment" last night.

I finally got my kid to understand the power of Netflix and Chill, in the complete and literate sense that sometimes it's okay to binge-watch My Little Pony or hours of Disney movies after a long week of school, aftercare, girl scouts, horseback riding lessons and play dates. You're allowed to be a kid. So yesterday we had horseback riding and then she had a play date and then I said, okay...we're going to go pick out a movie for you to watch on Red Box, then we'll do nails and face masks in between and have popcorn and treats but we just get to chill!

She was super on board and loved every minute: 

It was a simple thing for a Saturday when my husband was working and we were just having a girls night, but it felt so awesome. And my mom never did that kind of stuff with me. 

I thought I had always been mindful about being a mom, but I realized with as bad as things have been, I inadvertently end up snapping at her, being cranky and unfair or just only being half there. Last night I was all in and I noticed the difference in how it radiated through. She's listened better today. She's allowed me to have my space but asked for help when she needed it and asked me to be around for when she wanted me around.

Being a mother is exhausting, rewarding, defeating, and amazing. You can get everything and nothing out of it all at the same time. It's thankless but oddly gratifying. It can tear you apart and heal your whole world all within the span of 10 minutes. It's the best rollercoaster you'll ever board. 

I think that we all do our best when we're living under our version of better circumstances, but we're only human. Sometimes we break down and just can't handle this crazy thing called life. That's okay. I've been broken and beaten and put myself back together, or at least tried. My fundamental truth in it all is I have this little person to raise, no matter what. It doesn't matter what happens at work, with my husband, with my bills and finances, or with friends, I am her mother and she's my daughter. We are ride or die, Luna and I. I didn't mean for that rhyme or sound ridiculous but it is the truth.

As I've taken better care of myself these past few weeks, I've cared for her infinitely better. We've been kinder and more patient. We've been sweeter and less sassy with each other. We've made better agreements and had more meaningful conversations and moments as mother and daughter.

This mindfulness stuff is so hard, but I've found it's also totally worth it. As bad as it may sound, I won't be my mom. I had a taste of the "check out" plan and I don't want to order that from the menu ever again. I like being the one here when the fever breaks and nightmares happen. I like being the one she tells her secrets to and then gets mad at for annoying her. I like being the person she snuggles up on. Before long she won't want me around as much anyway. When I was 15, I was mother free, and when we tried to live together it was worse than a bad Lifetime movie.

My mom missed all the mom moments that I won't. The first bra, the first kiss, the first homecoming, prom, the shopping for the dresses and shoes, the boyfriends, the dates and everything. I had aunts and moms of friends and my dad. I was really good at making work what I had available but missed having any kind of mom when I needed it most. I won't give Luna the chance to miss me, even if it means smothering her, which she will hate and I will gladly do so. 

I'm a work in progress, but a mindful mother I will continue to grow into. I may not be able to volunteer for the school events and be cookie chair, but I'll be there for the first period, the sex talk, the girl fights, the boy fights, the dating, the outfits, the hair and especially the face masks, nail painting and sewing. I don't cook either but I can make a mean sandwich and salad, and I'm great with BOGO shopping. She'll do okay. 

And with all this mindful mothering, I can be one more cliche of, "Be the person you needed when you were a kid," for her; whether she likes it or not.

In Remembrance Of Luke Perry - My Twenty-Something, 90210 Late-Comer Obsession Will Live In Infamy

It's become a running joke between my dad and I that he notoriously allowed me to watch completely age inappropriate things from about the time I was 7 and on. I wasn't allowed to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles when I was 5 because it promoted violence and fighting, but watched Pretty Woman with my parents when I was 8. Hmmm; not the best judgment.

At the hands of my entire family I was exposed to highly inappropriate movies, shows and themes, but because I was preacher's kid and completely naive, most of the innuendos went way over my head. I watch these movies now and I'm like...um wow!

Anyway, one show on my dad's radar that was kept from me was 90210. When this show hit it big, I was still a Saved By The Bell, Full House, and TGIF kinda girl and also slightly younger than the audience that got to it first. My dad never let me watch it calling it, "Soap Opera crap" and then muttering something about Tori Spelling's lack of talent. 

So, I never watched 90210 in it's prime or all it's cool, trendy glory. In fact, I didn't discover it until the summer after my 16th birthday when it was in syndication with soap operas on the likes of Fox, CBS, FX or some such. I was home alone a lot when I lived with my mom, so I started watching re-runs.

Finding them in the order of how the show progressed was tough, as it may have been still producing new seasons at this time, but I loved all the drama. And I recognized some of the actors from other things on my radar.

I didn't get into it again until I was 23. We were living with my aunt and I was finishing college. She had "the good cable," and 90210 was on 2 hours a day. I happened to be in between full time jobs and home to "study," often with the house to myself while it was on. I had just so happened to have caught it starting the cycle again. I was hooked and it became part of my daily routine. I got up early to go to spin and classes, then came home to reboot before my afternoon classes, and there it was!

Funny fact that I JUST remembered: I was actually watching 90210 when Eben called me into another room to propose to me. I was annoyed that he was bothering me because I was "watching my stories" as we used to make fun. Spoiler alert: I said yes!

Now I was still never home enough to catch the whole series so I was left with all kinds of plot holes and trying to figure out what events came when in chronology. Remember this was still WAY before Netflix, Hulu and any sort of availability to watch whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

Fast forward another 3 years and we are renting my favorite apartment and living large with the good cable in Florida. My work schedule allows me to 90210 binge-watch on FX before my closing shifts and I'm obsessed. The pug and I curled up and devoured every juicy moment. I was a die hard team Dylan and Brenda girl, but the Kelly stuff was compelling, I will admit.

Fast forward again to me at age 28, and having my daughter. After a rough first 6 weeks of life, which I've referenced a few times in my blogging before, I had never been so happy to be home and breastfeeding on my couch. Despite all the studies on TV making your child an idiot, I watched an insane amount of Netflix, movies, and series when I was up at night breastfeeding and throughout my days at home. Sorry not sorry, it kept me sane. And that was when it all happened.

On my maternity leave, 90210 aired for 4 hours a day; two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon. The played in order and the series had just begun. I was only like 4 episodes in, and I had seen those before, so I knew. Every day Luna and I would tune into the drama. Steve, Andrea, Brandon, Kelly, Brenda, Donna, David, Valerie, Ray, Noah, the guest stars, the touching episodes, the bad corny ones, they were ALL THERE.

Because of being a stay at home breastfeeding mother I was able to watch all of 90210 and fall in love with Dylan McKay like the rest of them. Even so close to thirty I was hooked and, in my opinion, it was better late than never! So if you think about it, thanks to Luna I achieved my 16 year-old-self's goals and dreams of devouring that entire series. Go me!

So yesterday, when the news of Luke Perry's passing was posted on every social media outlet it, made me really sad. This happened just after last week they spoke about a possible re-boot of the series. Luke Perry was definitely known for his portrayal of the heart-throb, bad boy, Dylan McKay, but I also loved him as the leather clad hero in Buffy the Vampire slayer, the movie not the show, and he made an appearance in one of my favorite episodes of the highly underrated show, Raising Hope. 

He was a talented actor. And he was only 52! But what surprised me is so many of my mom friends were like, super depressed and affected by the loss. For most of them, this was their first serious celebrity crush and his passing is like the end of an era. Here we are, grown up, adulting, and some of us raising girls of our own and Luke Perry's death not only brings to light how old we are, or how short life is, but maybe also that our teenage years are just super gone now. Times have changed a lot, and always will.

It's sad to think his family lost him, but I just know there are so many women completely heartbroken that their first TV love is gone, may he rest in peace. The posters, the teen mags, the fan letters, and I think they had Barbie-like dolls and collectible things are all in remembrance of him. 

For me, he will live on forever through the likes of Hulu and I'm sure I'll bait Luna into watching it someday so she can make fun of me. But for now, and at least for me, 90210 will be that weird series that epitomized my late-bloomer status in life and allowed me to fall for that rebel without a cause like the rest of them, even in my almost-30 postpartum days. 

You'll find me binge-watching 90210, going back to West Beverly High on Hulu as my way of paying my respects. Thanks for everything Luke Perry!

My Little Pony, So I Guess This Is My Life Now

It's on in the living room right now. My daughter is legitimately obsessed with My Little Pony. My Little Pony has come a very long way since the 80's, I will say this, and we also made it this far into parenthood without the obsessions and crazes coming in full blast, so that's a win also.

She went through a bit of a Doc McStuffins phase, but this My Little Pony thing is a full blown love affair. As far as what is available and interesting to children her age, My Little Pony is pretty palatable. It's not too obnoxious or bratty and even the merchandising isn't as intensive as say, Disney-related things.

Now, I've made clear before that I don't judge the kid stuff. I literally bought into the Beanie Baby craze, I loved Polly Pocket, Littlest Pet Shop and of all fads, POGS. So I have no room to judge. I'm unsure if I will ever truly understand what a Shopkin is or what the point of Shopkins is but she's happy, I'm happy.

The Pony stuff, took over the 6th birthday in terms of theme, presents and every other aspect of her little realm. She watches it as often as we allow. We have Pony games on the tablet, she got Pony Chapter books and joke books, she has My Little Pony dolls, clothes, toothbrushes, crafts, stuffed animals, and music. 

The world of My Little Pony is layered and extremely real for any fan. It's got different kinds of Ponies, like Alicorn, Unicorn, Earth-Pony. It has different lands and realms, character conflicts, plot lines, the works. 

My husband actually turned me onto Patton Oswald's stand up about his daughter's obsession with My Little Pony and it is hilariously true how sucked in you can get as parents, whether you intend to or not. I definitely enjoy and appreciate the friendship themes.

The best thing is my daughter gets so excited about all the characters and what's happening, when and why. She loves telling us about every little phase, line and moment. She loves to share the world of Pony with anyone who will listen and she's extremely educated about it.

My life is now all Pony all the time. She's already vying for My Little Pony underwear. I foresee a My Little Pony Easter basket. I literally just heard her say "Rarity is just being a drama queen." It's too funny. 

I consider my daughter's obsession with My Little Pony to be the same as my obsession with say, The Office or Parks and Rec. So I let her watch on. If My Little Pony is her safe little realm of fun, I'm so supportive of her having that. 

So for now, I'll soak up every moment of her loving Ponyville, Equestria, Manehattan and so on and so forth. My favorite is Apple Jack, personally but my daughter is fond of Rainbow Dash. Yep, this is my life now. It's kind of awesome, right?

Less Is More, I Think I Get It Now

Staying on the topic of continuous lessons, growth and never-ending cliches, let's talk about that whole, "Less is more," thing.

Less is more can easily be applied to certain applications of make-up, in some cases, food and always, always, always, GLITTER.

Lately I have applied the "less is more," theory to text message conversations and tech interactions. Phones are everything these days. I have those horrible millennial moments where I get snotty as if life before smart phones was caveman-esque. When people ask for directions I scoff, "Just Google it!" When my husband complained about his data on his phone, "Gosh, just use WIFI! As if!" Yeah, I have those moments.

Some of these social media things can push you over the edge. Whomever invented the ability and application to see when a message was READ, needs to be sat down for a talk about how this is not a good thing. Let me tell you, the ellipsis bubble awaiting a response is the stuff of pure evil. I loved living in a fantasy world where when you don't get a response to a text message, it was because the recipient never saw it. How insulting is it to think they saw it and then chose not to respond?  I always want to believe they're busy or distracted as the lesser of evils. 

For me, less communication has been more productive this week. Checking in on people is great. Making and confirming plans with friends is wonderful. Asking your husband to grab groceries because you are out of things is essential. But this week I took a step back from my usual anxiety-driven texting mania and I must say, it feels frigging awesome. 

So I think less is more for social media and technologically based communications can definitely come in handy. Have you ever seen that people now have to "take breaks" from social media? I've done it often and people get into a weird panic as if I've been abducted. Which isn't to say that social media hasn't been incredibly helpful in cases attached to things like that - let me make that clear, I was just being sassy.

It's as if your activity online is some kind of sign of life anymore. So you may be actually dead if you don't update your Facebook status often enough, is that what it is? It's kind of unnerving when you think about it.

With this expansion of information and communication, I personally feel we've actually weakened our abilities to properly communicate, not enhanced them. Think of this, back in the day a phone conversation could last for hours talking about nothing or everything and plans were made, and set and followed through. Now, because we can reach anyone, anywhere, in seconds, we can "blow off" plans in a moment's notice. It's not always nice, or fair or convenient. It's not always our fault, LIFE HAPPENS, but I think instant access to communicate has let us become naturally more social anxious, and flaky, or at least it has in my personal realm. Somehow because you can get a-hold of everyone now, you can change anything and everything last minute, it's a double-edged sword.

Some people can do it all and prove that these technologies and communications are way more pro than con. However, some people, like "Anxious Alison" over here, get really wobbly in the new age world. For directions, I could not live without GPS. For music, Spotify is life. For pictures and videos, it's so perfect to have a little device right there. For social interaction, though, I'm a hot mess.

Some days I have handle on all of it and some days I'm on Pinterest and Instagram and bouncing to and from, waiting for this, waiting for that, then I look at Facebook and 30 minutes have gone by! Here comes that balance idea again, and I'm finding my way through it.

I think my husband will forever coin me as "a texter," and don't get me wrong, I will respond within 5 minutes most times. But I do wonder how much things would change if we let go of the devices a bit. Or at least if I did.

I've been working on that diligently this week and I'm proud of my progress. This is not to say you cannot get in touch with me and there are certain people I'd love to catch up with, even via text just so I can feel more on top of friendships stuff, but I'm trying to find my comfort zone. I for one, definitely rely too much on texting and social media as some kind of barometer for life things. It looks absurd when I type that but it is true, regardless. 

So here I am, a work in progress, progress not perfection, and less is definitely more! I'm in all the cliches and just finding my way through this thing called life. I hope that this helps someone feel less technologically anxious and more excited about finding their balance. For me it felt so weird at first, and much easier said than done, but by the end of this week I'm feeling more calm and rested, so I'm hoping for the same for all my readers. Happy Friday!

All The Lessons, All The Tools

I did an Instagram post the other night because I was frustrated and sad and wanted to express that without whining or being ungrateful, but needed a bit of a "vent session." I've been working diligently on being more apt to "roll with the punches." I most identify with the idea that I'm "Anxious Alison," and planning and changing planning can be seriously difficult for me. Sometimes I can thrive in the chaos and keep the steady hand, other times I'm one second away from just screaming into my pillowcase. It can be quite a ride.

Last year during some chaos where self care had fallen to the wayside, I was miserable and mentally collapsing, I decided to take control and use my favorite coping mechanism, working out, to it's fullest advantage. For the first time in 5 years I joined a gym and went back to Spin classes. When I started I was averaging 4 spin classes a week and 3 days of boot camp. Then as things at home became worse I was adding in more double workouts to try and keep myself steady and balanced in the mayhem.

This year, because of budgeting, adulting and the gym losing instructors and messing with schedules, I had to get rid of the gym membership. Sad day. Now plenty of friends have said, "Gyms are only like $10 a month just go here, there and so and so." Yeah I need my classes, I work best in that environment and, we have zero extra money so, gotta do what ya gotta do.

A neighbor friend had a membership at the same gym and wanted a buddy to keep her in spin so she said we could go every Tuesday. I was psyched. This was the pick me up I needed and it wouldn't kill me to be slightly social and get to know her better. Welp, this happened all of one week before things changed and that was no longer an option. So, back to relying on me, myself and I.

This morning I am happy to report that after texting hubby at 8PM last night that "I'm running tomorrow whether I want to or not," I got my butt outta bed and ran 2 miles, and I feel frigging amazing. No, this isn't just endorphins or some weird runners high.

I realized something. Everything always goes back to the lessons and tools I learned over a decade ago in my therapy. Little things are bigger things in the grand spectrum and I need to work on some little things. Last week I really sucked at self care; this week, it has been tantamount to my success and I shall explain.

Last week I stayed up too late for no reason. Texting, watching re-runs of the same shows I've been watching for years, stressing about all the things I needed to do and worrying about things I could never control. I was tossing and turning about fading friendships, reaching out, not reaching out, drawing boundaries, not drawing boundaries, and things that make me unsettled. Last week I was exhausted, I didn't eat right, and I was cranky.

Now, self care looks different for everyone. For me, it is early bedtimes and new, healthy routines. I've been WAY better at adjusting things with less mental stress and not allowing my routines to "manage" me. I've been very attentive to when I need to be more gentle with myself. This week I asked my husband to meal prep some things for me this week and he did. This week I have been asleep by 9 every night and up by 5 every morning. And last night I started something, a new hope-to-be habit, that is LONG over-due.

Last night, with a cup of Sleepy Time tea and a tucked in kiddo one room away, I read for twenty minutes before bed, and it was a book I've been trying to read since December, but keep getting distracted and taken away from it. Not only did it help me get sleepy, but I felt so awesome investing that small amount of time into myself, and something for just me and my tired brain.

On another note, and this will bring the point around here eventually, at Church they started this experimental biblical reflection-type thing and instead of being lackluster, lazy and scoffing, I said "yes" and jumped in head first. Again with rolling with the punches, quickly it didn't work out as planned and I was left with one mentor and ally, a favorite mom within the church in fact, as someone to kind of check in with from time to time, instead of a small group atmosphere as intended.

The first week was okay; I liked the general spirit (pun intended) of what the exercises exemplified but things got heavy, fast. Instead of exploration it became homework. I reached out to a couple people a few times but, this was clearly meant to be group discussion with personal reflection and notating. It wasn't making me happy, or more plainly, it was "not sparking joy," if we need to conform to pop culture references. So I took a step back and thought, "Okay, so I put my best foot forward and handled the fallout of plans really well, and I tried to maintain this solo with some individual outreach but I'm definitely not hitting the target so then why am I stressing about something that I'm getting nothing out of?" EXACTLY!

It all came back to self care, lessons, and tools from what felt like I learned forever ago. This isn't to say I'm done with "church stuff;" this isn't to say I'm done trying new things. But I'm definitely learning my boundaries of saying "yes and no." And this includes saying yes and no to myself, and to others.

You may be thinking, okay, the gym isn't exactly a luxury and who doesn't make time to read a damn book? ME! The gym IS a luxury for me and I've disclosed previously as a writer, I'm the worst reader ever. And it dawned on me as to why I revert to some coping mechanisms so easily and why shaking things up can be daunting, so here we go:

My dad was a routine-driven dude. At 7AM he'd be planning dinner and every night that was in the dining room at the table at 6PM. When my mom left, in all the craze and turmoil, my dad gave up the dining room table nonsense and we used to live it up, eating in the "TV Room." We'd watch the Simpsons together, Friends, Will and Grace, Mad About You, Ellen, Cheers re-runs, Seinfeld, X-Files, Full House, and so on and so forth, all while eating dinner together. This became my favorite thing ever because instead of wallowing in the changes, we would just enjoy each other's company and lose ourselves in the plot lines and worlds of the characters on a screen.

And last night I realized that when I feel so out of control, so tired and beaten down by life and schedules, anxiety and depression, and at odds with my world, I re-watch Friends for the thousandth time and absorb the drama. I re-watch the Office and can't believe how oblivious Michael Scott is. I stay up late laughing at Seinfeld and remembering how many times that show was so right on and ahead of it's time. Because that's my version of "comfort food."

And while I love books and can devour a good series with the best of them, it's just not my go to for trying times. But the change in routine yesterday, although ever so slight, was just what the doctor ordered. It allowed me to effectively wind down and was calm and quiet. It let me read WITHOUT distraction, and distraction is my seemingly my forte.

Between the read and the run, I'm looking forward to tonight and my morning runs from here on out. I'm happy I'm back to "normal" bed times and not stressing over schedules, projects and things I can't force myself into. I'm discovering new peace. I didn't realize how volatile things have been, until this peace feeling came over me, and I must say, I just love it, and am more and more grateful for it. 

All the lessons, all the tools, I know them and I have them at my disposal, ready to use. It's easy to embrace the lazy and not do all the things. It's far more rewarding to get off your butt and get things done! Or, so I feel it is lately!