The Couch Left Out On The Corner

You drive past it regularly. There's almost always one if not many on the way to anything. It's the couch left on the corner. 

Sometimes you glance and think "That's a nice couch," but then you realized it just rained a few days prior so it's probably trashed. Sometimes you are like "wow that is an ugly couch," or "that thing is gross!" Regardless, you drive on by.

Now that I'm not physically ill, mentally things start to move around more and yesterday on my way to work I saw the very infamous couch on the corner. On the road I take to work there is this random cul-de-sac with newer built homes and this couch was perfectly perched for disposal at the edge of this semi-circular neighborhood.

I started to think about all the couches that I have known in my just about 35 years on this earth and how many I have left on curbs. I recall about 5 left on curbs. My dad still has the loveseat couch from my childhood in his house now. It is ugly and not even comfy but if it ever comes my way it will be in my living room in a second.

My best friend has gone through a few couches and this summer it was what I noticed first in the living room when we stayed with her because at one time they had this huge sectional that curved around half the room that could fit all five of them and dogs. The new replacement was comfy though and still fit plenty.

On the one hand it's really weird that some couch on the corner drove me down memory lane of couch land. On the other, tis' the season for nostalgia. The holidays are upon us and I think I speak for everyone when I admit that the more holiday seasons we go through the more nostalgia we hold onto. 

So here I drive around, thinking of the couches. My first apartment I got a couch from a friend for free, the legs were knocked off and there were holes in the back where their ferrets would get in and climb and bite you. I bought my first couch cover and it worked. I kept that quite awhile. When I moved in with then boyfriend, now hubby, I had a loveseat from my mom's apartment she got at some thrift store with a very loud couch cover from Big Lots and half of the sectional from his place.

When me moved from Oregon to Florida, we had no couch, no loveseat, no living room furniture. I bought my new hubby his first recliner and we inherited a chair from my mom that was my grandma's. The first couch we got was...hmmm, possibly a pull out couch that my friend got at an auction which was in good condition but insanely heavy.

That one was left on the curb at our old place when we moved into our current home. It was replaced by a faux leather thing my husband insisted on from a neighbor which barely lasted and then we were graciously given the nicest couch and loveseat addition we have ever had in deep chocolate brown and I yell at my family regularly that we will never be so lucky as to get such nice stuff so, don't wreck it!

I never really thought about it until that particular commute but where do the couches go? Are there sanitation workers that take them home? Are they in a pile in a junk yard or trash heap? I could picture some award winning photo of a couch on top of a trash mountain just reminding us we are nasty slobs that sit on our waste in more ways than one. Wait, is this a perfect idea for some revealing expose on couches?

Do rained on moldy couches get broken down? Are they re-purposed? Do they end up in homeless shelters or lobbies of lesser establishments in this world? So many couch questions!

My daughter was recently given a hand me down doll house. My husband is extremely accurate in saying it is much more likely a doll mansion than doll house. Of course it came with many boxes of furniture. In some ways, you can't have a doll house without the furniture right? What's the fun in an empty house?  

The living room is the gathering place. The TV is the viewpoint from said couch, more often than not. And when those couches end up on the corner, it just made me wonder what happens in the grand scheme.

I wondered if the couch left out "to pasture" was replaced, downsized or just used to it's fullest. See, much like Phoebe on Friends, I love for all of our furniture to have stories:

I agree that otherwise everyone has the same stuff instead of things with history, so on my drive I was left to review the history of all of the couches of house Chriss. For some, this is a whole weird alliteration and wandering of my anxious mind. For me, it made sense after being taken down for a week in every way, that coming back I was thrown into a pensive place where a simple couch on a cul-de-sac could spark some nostalgic mental adventure that would warrant a blog post.

I would bet money you'll see a discarded couch on your way to or from home today. I would also bet that you've had this exact same reaction to the couch on the corner, at one time or another. Perhaps it's some greater metaphor or perhaps it's just "having a think" on a morning drive. Maybe I am onto some thing of a great couch story or maybe I'm just clearly getting back to all things Alison. Regardless, may your couch stay comfy and away from the corner, and may it be the thing that perfectly mirrors the placement of your TV, all while having history and nostalgia, all for the sake of friends. 

Vacation Bliss and Sick Daze: Whirlwind Unwound

Well, it's been awhile. I'm welcoming myself back into things as I type. Where have I been? Well, with the exception of a great trip, I have been nowhere awesome. In fact, I had been so ill last week I just couldn't pull it together to write, but I'm back and rebuilding in every which way to finish this year strong.

We had driven from left coast Florida to Hilton Head Island South Carolina for a Savannah, Georgia wedding and had a trip that caused my best friend to text me and tell me to do whatever it was we were doing more, so that the joy captured on my face was there way more often.

We had fun at the beach, we did some learning about the area, we went to a petting zoo, played a round of mini golf, we got treats galore! We were living our best lives as the cool kids say. We weren't breaking the bank, which was beyond amazing for us, too. That allowed for more relaxation in fact.

After a great family weekend with one minor speed bump, which now in retrospect is so telling it's almost creepy, I came home to one of the nastiest illnesses I have ever experienced.

Our last night we went to a restaurant my husband wanted to try. Full disclosure, I really don't enjoy going out to dinner. Breakfast out is a dream, lunches I can handle, but dinner with a 6 year old out, is like a race against time before she's done and you just want to relax and get your money's worth.

First I ordered a peach bellini, thinking it would be one way and it came out with more pulp than all of Florida's orange juice. I don't send things back. I also major in passive aggression. I will not complain and I don't want conflict. My husband is Mr. Restaurant Man and encouraged me to send it back, so I did. It was not an easy thing and actually caused a bit of a strain between us because I can get a little high strung in those situations and often over-stress it. 

When we ordered I tried to be adventurous and when I got my food it was lacking. After the humiliation and strain of the drink send back I didn't want to make another fuss and be "that customer" of the evening. The cole slaw on my tacos tasted weird, so I made the hubby try it. I said, is it like "bad" or a flavor that I'm not into? He said it was fine, I grinned and finished up, we headed to ice cream. For ice cream I ordered a blue cookie monster thing and then made everyone laugh at my blue tongue, blue lips and blue teeth to lighten the evening. We walked off the food and returned for the last night in the condo. I hit the hot tub for all of 10 minutes but then started to feel off.

I will admit that I'm that person who has physical trouble on her travels, meaning, my body gets off its normal schedule, if you get what I mean. In new places with unreliable bathroom use, my body gets tense and tends to stay that way until nature has it's way and wins. My husband made me a probiotic tea at the first mention of my tummy being off. It seemed to get some things feeling better. I slept. We got up early to see the sun rise before the long day in the car.

I was not even kind of hungry. I just wanted coffee. The coffee seemed to help the second act of whatever my tummy was going through. I didn't have solid food until 11AM and started with crackers. Then my husband and I shared some chicken salad. It wasn't until we were 2 hours from home I finally caved and got fast food. I got Taco Bell and at the time it was amazing and gave me the push through for the final stretch. However, as soon we were home and comfy I started to feel even more off. And so it began.

I will spare you the gory details, this is not that kind of blog, but let's just say my body was rebelling against either, dinner the night before, or the cheesy gordita crunch or all of the above. I had more tea and more calming food and still, things were leaving my body swiftly and I was having the most intense stomach cramps I have ever experienced. As the night went on it was coupled with fever and chills and long showers and midday naps weren't cutting it. I called into work Monday, with no choice but to rest. I got a weird second wind Monday and changed our sheets, convincing myself I would be fine the next day after all the extra sleep, and a bowl of pasta. 

Monday night was another sleepless night but I was going to work, come hell or high water. I hit the grocery store for reserves after rolling out of bed, taking a long shower, throwing on clothes, resting in bed another 10 minutes and then pulling it together enough to get myself to the store and the office. I got to the office 20 minutes early and napped in my car. I just had to make it to lunch I told myself.

I was on a steady diet of ginger ale, gatorade, water, and all I wanted was applesauce. I had cheese as the secondary option for protein. On my lunch I took a car nap then woke up violently needing to hit the bathroom. I started to have horrible cramping to the point where I felt faint, and then another ugly symptom came up and that's when I called in the hubby. He told me it was time to leave work, and go to urgent care, enough was enough.

My bosses were fine with me leaving early and I made it to urgent care in about 30 minutes. They warned me of a two hour wait. It only took me about 30 minutes before I got to a room, and my husband came to join me later. When the doctor came in, I had left out some important and gross symptoms my husband filled in for him, and apparently I warranted one injection and 2 prescriptions.

I was uncomfortable and in an haze. Ironically the shot was administered through none other than my butt and a very young, attractive woman who was a nurse practitioner had to see my old pale rear end to give me my injection to feel better. I will say my color came back quickly and I was released to go home and rest. The residual migraine stayed with me and off I went to get better. I had to take Wednesday off as well.

On Wednesday while the meds were working their magic I felt very spacey, almost high. I watched all the things on "the big TV," I normally wouldn't be allowed to if the kid were home. I tried to stay up all day so I could sleep well that night. I wasn't allowed to work out while I was on the meds and my husband check in on me that I was just resting and trying to get in some calories.

I had lost about 6 lbs in 2 days. Most women would jump for joy. I'm not even kind of "most women." This was killing me. I wanted my body back. I missed things like coffee, having any kind of appetite, wanting real food or meat and not having to go to the bathroom after every meal. I missed not feeling so thirsty and feeling like I actually knew my body. I felt like my body was just rebelling like "how could you!?" 

It wasn't until exactly a week later, last night, that I could eat at normal capacity. This morning was my first cup of coffee in over a week. After all of this, after everything, I realize how important it is to take care of myself in more ways than one. After I went to urgent care my daughter said "Mom, it was not a good idea for you to go to work this morning!" She wasn't wrong.

On the one hand, showing my make-up-less struggling, slightly smelly self was proof that I was actually not okay. On the other, it did me no favors. I was stupid grateful for my husband and daughter being supportive. I was also grateful the dog gave me endless healing cuddles. My bosses were amazing, with no guilt, and that helped me heal as well. 

This morning was my first workout back and I had to take it slow. I'm usually the last one to go after western medicine as the healing but I couldn't wait it out, and now I'm back to finish this year off and here is where I'm idling:

I can only do what I can with what is before me. This year has been one of healing and growth and we have made some serious moves in our family life and personal lives. It's been really hard. I've had to admit some stuff about my life, my family and myself that I don't want to. I've had to face some old traumas. I've had to grow UP.  Next year will be more of that.

I'm here and lucky to be here with the family that is mine and the good health I have. It is my job to make the most of the time I have on this planet. There will continue to be good days and bad days, vacation bliss and sick days and life's whirlwind may wind me up and keep me spinning but I just need to keep my focal point so as not to lose my balance.

I plan on finishing this year of blogging as intended and I'm not sure what 2020 will look like for writing. I appreciate all of you taking the time to read along and will be working on new topics this week and through the holidays. I'm back in action and hope to not be knocked down any time again soon!

Emotional Smog Intake

Last night I had a meltdown. It was quiet and over something seemingly fixable, stupid and ridiculous. Last night I felt the emotional eruption that would leave dust, smoke and smog and I was fighting for air.

Have you ever had to take in so much from "the other" that you've left no room for anything of your own? This other could be a friend, a sister, a cousin, a husband, a kid, a neighbor, whomever. Have you ever had to take in all of the stuff and then figure out where to put it but you come out just feeling depleted and without storage capacity? This happened to me last night.

Refreshingly when I explained my tears and tantrum to my husband he said, "Okay, I can see how that could be taxing." It just kind of took me over. Remember that epic cartoon movie Ferngully? Remember Hexxus?

Yeah it was like that. Where just this dark emotional, pollution of smog just came in and knocked me right out.

It didn't come out in the midst of the multiple exchanges I had that have now been identified as triggering. Like secondhand smoke it came in small increments but throughout the day, consistently. It was like, I'd get close to a mental wall, then regroup, then get hear a higher spiky wall, regroup and then a wall with a moat, then regroup but finally I was like "I can't do this."

What couldn't I do? I couldn't order take out food. I lost it when I inadvertently messed up my order, overpaid or was overcharged, whatever, and then came home to my super-husband handling our puking first grader himself, in an attempt to give me a calm, happy evening. 

Everything mentally collapsed in front of me and came down to "I just wanted a burrito bowl and I can't even order that! I've been dying to try this place and I'm so hangry, I'm stressed about spending on this, money is tight and I just can't deal!" Yes all of that, from a big emotional fog.

I paint myself as a good friend, good listener and someone there for you. I can do that for people, and like being a reliable support system. That isn't to say that everyone doesn't have limitations. I was definitely unaware I could hit all of mine in one day.

First there was the mom guilt of needing to be home for the sick kiddo but hubby was off anyway, and he assured me that he could handle it just fine. Then there is the money worries and budget, which just sets in ANY TIME I BUY ANYTHING THAT ISN'T A "need." Add into that the emotional intake of all others and just me being anxious, and I had run myself into empty.

My husband was actually rational and kind about how the whole day ended up, which was better than what I had envisioned. I was still able to get some sleep but I'm definitely feeling hazy today.

It's such a weird thing. I was so intent on listening and I have heard things so closely but so much of what I've heard hasn't been things to take "lightly" so to speak. Life is heavy. I desperately try to operate with no judgment but sometimes, I gotta say, I kinda wanted to scream a bit. Everyone has their trauma, their struggles and their ongoing battles, but we have to remain open and grateful.

I'll admit I still wrestle with that whole "listen not to just wait to speak" thing where you have to actively listen rather than just wait your turn to talk thing. Yesterday it was all listening and less and less being heard when already feeling maxed out in the unheard department, that when I wasn't heard "quite properly" for the food order, the smog filled my lungs and make me cry in frustration. 

When my daughter was complaining about not feeling good I asked her if something else was going on and she admitted to me that she was stressed about having a new job in her classroom. Of course now I know that her little immune system was seriously struggling but she was definitely feeling the stress of change. She gets this from me. I always physically feel all my mentalities fighting it out.

While I'm navigating all of this, shakily, with blurred vision and desperate for more rest and reboot I've come to the conclusion that I really need to be more self-preservative. I really need to keep those boundaries in place. This whole "incident" wasn't anyone's fault or completely avoidable, but it sure was quite a reality check. While I feel fortunate that I recognize this all, and have some more support than I'd anticipated, boy did it shift some perspective. 

I think I'll be working through this for awhile. I'm sure the whole thing will be blogged out and thought out in one way or another. Happy Wednesday readers!

Recipe for Success

It happened. I did it. And that could very well be the end of this entry. Kidding!

I don't cook. I'm not saying that in a snobby "above it all," way. I don't cook. In my childhood my father did all of the cooking. My mom made lasagna and questionable choices. That's about it. Okay and salad.

My dad made Mac and Cheese, full Thanksgiving Dinner, ham and potatoes, potato soup, split pea soup, chili, spaghetti, manicotti, stew, sweet and sour chicken, tacos, sloppy joes, pork chops, fried chicken and so on and so forth. 

When I was 16 my first friend at a new high school taught me how to get boys to make you a girlfriend, and how to scramble eggs. My sister taught me when I was 17 or 18 how to make french toast and grilled cheese. When I tried to make grilled cheese for my dad, he said I was using too much butter and doing it wrong. I no longer make grilled cheese but occasionally bust out some french toast.

I make epic sandwiches and delicious salad combos. I make a lot of plans. I burn rice, I rush things and get frustrated, and I successfully make banana bread that I am the only one that likes, although my daughter will have some on occasion.

I've tried crock pot recipes and nine times out of ten they come out "okay." Later they will be found out to have "needed more or less of x,y,z" or not having all the ingredients, being super annoyed and saying "whatever." My husband has made fun of Pinterest recipes since their very evolution. Last night was my first success.

I'm going to blame my weird control whims. I'm going to say that after being engulfed in all avenues of anxiety, that I thought...how can I harness this for good? I've been struggling with feeling negative and resentful as of late. I've been feeling as though I'm reaching out to certain people and getting little to no response which leaves me feeling impotent and unimportant. Something as simple as a Pinterest recipe did more than I thought.

My husband cooks everything. He is a very wonderful chef and I abuse that often. In that way I am beyond spoiled. I also, however, appreciate ANY meal made for me, even if it's not my favorite, because I am well aware that cooking is a time consuming craft.

When I found this recipe, the "hardest" task on it was, "brown the meat." My husband actually taught me to do that once. I could totally pull it off. Now for time frame and ingredients. Shout out to Wal-Mart pick up order. I got all the ingredients we didn't have, perfectly matched to what we needed, and picked them up after I got the kiddo, with no argument.

With even further recipe review, I realized that all I needed to do what cook the meat and open the cans. My daughter could do everything else without me. What would we be making? Taco soup. Why? Earlier this week I had asked my husband to make tacos and he defrosted some ground beef. Life happened and he had a particularly bad day and it didn't happen. To alleviate "extra" requests and expectations, I said just don't worry about it, we have plenty of other meal options. 

My husband's late night go to is either soup, or some form of nacho. I figured this could be the best of both worlds. This was a way I came up with that was intended to say "I appreciate you, I know you're having an off week, so here is something nice for you." I just really hoped I couldn't somehow mess it up.

I multi-tasked like a bad ass. While browning said meat my daughter did her evening reading for me. Instead of some huge homework fight, even when we were at odds, with me concentrating on not burning and fucking up the food, and her spelling out words she was stuck on, we did good. And when she finished reading, I was ready for her to do the ingredient dump. 

We both rocked it, but she did so incredibly well just listening and stirring and understanding what we were doing for her dad. Too bad she'd never eat it, but she sure was excited to make it. It felt so good to "meal plan." It felt good to put something together thinking it would probably come out good. I set my alarm for 1AM to go turn it off in case the hubby would be later than that. No sooner did I snap that crock pot to "off" and crawl back into bed did I hear him come home, ready to enjoy his super late dinner.

He actually said it was good and he added some cheese and dipped his chips in it. My daughter said she'd remembered the secret ingredient, "Love," when she was making it.

It's weird how something so simple as a Pinterest recipe gone right, and a really easy thing to put together, somehow has given me a spring in my step for Friday like what else can I accomplish!?

When you feel ignored by people you're vying for attention from, you can wilt like a flower honestly. Sure, they are busy and working hard, but sometimes you just want some validation or acknowledgement. We're all human after all. Somehow this recipe for success actually gave me the water I needed to bloom and not wilt. This recipe's success gave me the confidence that with a little attention to detail, planning and confidence, I'm more capable than I think. Perhaps it also left me with feeling like I don't necessarily need to seek out that approval but just keep putting out good vibes, good intentions and good words and things will be returned as they need to be.

I don't think one successful crock pot experience makes me a cook. I don't feel like now I can make anything but rather I have the confidence to try other simple things. I won't pretend those anxious feelings are remotely gone but maybe I'm finding amended coping mechanisms for better handling of them. 

I've had to breathe deeply a lot this week. I've had to be patient in ways that take me out of my comfort zone and have been messing with my emotions and mentality. This concentrated effort to make some taco soup was quite the random accomplishment but I intend to keep it close as a reminder for my capabilities, creativity and an affirmation to self care and some self love. What a way to kick off the weekend!

Concert Consciousness

I had the great pleasure this week of going to see one of my favorite musicians, Jenny Lewis, live at a small theater in Orlando. I had been lucky enough to see Jenny Lewis 12 years ago when she was in the amazing band, Rilo Kiley. Since then, I have not had the real chance to see her live again. There were always obstacles and financial reasons as to not make the show. Nothing stopped us this time.

Because of my excitement I asked my husband to find my old Rilo Kiley shirt. If you didn't know 19 year old Alison very well, you may be surprised at the fact that I have always been a concert-goer, and back in the day was nothing short of an avid concert-goer. I am obsessed with certain avenues of live music.

My first concert when I was 11 or 12 was Billy Joel at some concert hall at a local university. I knew very well plenty about Billy Joel to know that I was damn lucky to see him live in a small space. Sitting in a cold concert hall to watch seemed a little stuffy but regardless, I was happy to have the experience. My second concert was when I was 13, Hanson, at HersheyPark Arena I believe. I didn't like how huge it was, there was no room to move and the speakers drowned out everything with just noise and over-blown effects rather than the music.

When I was 17 or 18 a friend's mom took us to see NSYNC in their prime. We had nosebleed arena seats for an arena in Ft. Lauderdale I think. I knew I was so lucky to go but I remember when it was encore time my friend's mom was like "You have to clap to make them come back out!: My friend said, "Mom the encore is part of the show, whether they like it or not, clapping won't change that." Her mom did the classic "back in my day the encore meant something," story and it made me laugh but I've taken smaller show encores seriously since.

When I was 18 and living in the Pacific Northwest we were in indie-concert heaven. So many bands passed through the university towns of every genre and so many played the small clubs. I was completely obsessed with all things music. The closest to a "spiritual" experience I've ever had, has been in a live music venue. Music has been there for me on my darkest days, same as when I'm in a great mood. Music is my life.

I say that not in the sense that I'm any kind of musician. I just say that I couldn't live without it. When I was able to see Jenny Lewis live, close up and dance and sing and fall deeper in love with everything about her, it made me think of how many concerts I've been to. I've lost count.

The concert t-shirt situation will be a blog on it's own. I plan to count and record the findings this weekend. My husband was giving me a hard time about all the shirts and I said, "That was my thing; you could lose a ticket stub but a shirt I could and would wear forever, although some are inappropriate now."

I started going through them and remembered where I got them from, what show, when and how. It was better than a photo album. Some of my strongest, and best memories are around concerts. Some of my now favorite songs, or revisited songs I'd forgotten, I was lucky enough to see live, forever changing me. I've seen songs performed live that I disliked on an album. I've seen songs live that I didn't understand until the artist gave commentary on it. I've disliked some songs live that are my favorite on an album. Each concert was a journey, an adventure and a conscious experience.

It may be safe to say you can't actually know me on a deep level until you've seen me around live music of my own favorite musicians. My best friend and I are deeply rooted around the music of Hanson. I've made unlikely friends in the presence of Death Cab for Cutie, Rilo Kiley and Cake. Seeing performances live is where all my money went, pre-motherhood. Now I'm much more selective.

This past show was something of a new kind of concert adventure. In my twenties you would drive 2 hours to a venue, get tipsy up until you could sneak into the opener, then continue to drink to party through the show, then switch to water halfway through the headlining show, drive home, sleep until the last minute you could and rally back into whatever you had going the next day. For this part of my 30's, we caffeinated on the way, had a small dinner, small water, were fighting the sleepies before the show started, and then got a cookie and sugar rush for the drive home, completely sober and awake, crashing out at 1AM and up by 6:30AM for work and school and life. My mom watched my daughter and said, "How can you go to work after that?" I said, "It's not like I'm drinking. I may be sleepy but there won't be a hangover like 10 years ago!"

Yesterday, after just reliving what an epic set list from Wednesday night and thinking about all the concert shirts in the garage I just realized what kind of consciousness I have in the presence of live music. I have a rule that you have to listen to the band you're about to see the entire drive to the venue and possibly on the return trip as well. Some people think this is excessive. I disagree.

In this day and age you feel like you have to record and Instagram everything but I remind myself to put the phone down and live in the moment. You are never going to have that exact moment or experience again so drink it in.

My consciousness at a concert is like nothing else. I just wanna live there in that place as long as I can. I'm not worried about paying bills, waking up on time, laundry and dishes. I'm in that song, I'm in that moment just watching the music unfold before me.

I often joke that I was born in the wrong era. I believe I may be an old soul that previously was alive and attended Woodstock and Led Zeppelin shows, overdosing by 18 and then reincarnating to come back in the 80's to be this Alison. I love music the most!

Concerts are something I love to share with people too and I don't take it lightly. You have to be able to go, stand, dance and enjoy without messing it up for me or no thank you. My goal is to enjoy every song, whether I know it by heart or not and enjoy the company of whomever goes with me. So, if I've never asked you to go with me, that tells you everything...in a way LOL.

In my early twenties it was my mission for my dad and I to attend as many concerts as possible of the musicians he raised me on and then drag him to a few shows of "my bands," he could tolerate. I took him to see Lyle Lovett, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Neil Diamond, Jethro Tull, and most notably, Mark Knopfler, among others for us to truly enjoy together. These are my collections and memories and I will keep them, and possibly my t-shirts forever.

Concerts are my favorite way to spend my time. I love going to events instead of buying stuff. If it came down to "new bedspread" or "Tickets to see Cake," Cake will win every time. Concerts are my thing and I hope to keep that going to inevitably force my daughter to love them as well. Now back to updating my Spotify list!

The Blanket Bumble - Best Friend To The Rescue

Last month on vacation my daughter left a little blanket at a Holiday Inn in PA between NYC and our home base of Bainbridge, PA. At this Holiday Inn we didn't have the best experience before the blanket leave behind. I don't know if it's a male thing but my husband wanted to make sure we left with what we paid for and not a cent more.

With his vast hospitality knowledge we left with quite a discount and without the blanket. This was the first trip where I allowed my daughter to pack her own stuff. There was no judgement and just a few guidelines as far as what to pack, and what she could and could not bring. She asked if she could bring a small blanket for the plane and I said yes.

She grabbed a little pink one she had had since she was a baby and off we went. It made it to hotel #1, my best friend's house, NYC, and then the final hotel before departing from our possession. We realized it had not made it into the rental car for the journey back to home base the same day we checked out of the hotel and my husband called to confirm they had it, to then have it set aside and  sent back our direction.

When I was younger my uncle had taken me on trips with my cousins from time to time to Baltimore and such. I was the little anxious girl who couldn't travel without her stuffed animals. I once left like 5 stuffed animals in a hotel as he was not one to remember the excess stuff in the midst of adventure. I was beside myself. One call to the hotel and one FedEx box later, they came home to me less than a week after the departure.

I asked my husband after his quest for better Holiday Inn service to handle the exchange. I was ill-prepared for the drama that would ensue. 

First I was harassing my husband every other day, which I'm sure he loved about, "Oh did you call them? Did they give a tracking number? Did they return your call?" The responses kept varying from "I am waiting for the Manager," to "Oh they are emailing me the tracking number."

I started to think he was just saying whatever he need to in order to get me to leave him alone. It was the most obnoxious thing. The whole time I'm texting my best friend about the whole thing and she's agreeing with me that it sounds like the hotel is dropping the ball or hating on us for the lax customer service commentary at check out.

There is this song and dance around everything and people saying it has been sent or that a tracking number will be emailed for three weeks. Three weeks of the weird, broken and strange communications or dare I say lack there of.

Finally I call myself and the employee says they never got a credit card number. I give them the card number. It's not working. Impossible but technology is fickle. I give them a debit card number with money to be spent in that account. It doesn't go through. Impossible and so I say, "I think it's the system you're using." What do they tell me to do? I have to call FedEx.

Then I call FedEx and they inform me that they just changed their system. In order to give Holiday Inn the shipping label I must set up a personal Fed Ex account, buy said label and EMAIL the Holiday Inn people the label and wait for them to send. This seems like a LOT to ask of front desk associates who haven't though to USE THE POST OFFICE instead, or have yet to figure out the new mode of FedEx.

Finally my friend says, "Do you want me to just go and get it?" This thing is 90 minutes away. The stubborn mom part of me wants to win the blanket battle and make this hotel get their shit together. They have it. We want it back. Will my daughter live without it? Absolutely, but seeing as they still have the damned thing, can we just have it back?

Best friend to the rescue. Calling to say it would be picked up was another great adventure. I gave the name and spelled it and gave them the pick up window. They said "Okay, but she needs to be prepared to show ID." They can't figure out FedEx but card like a bar for a blanket apparently?

Yesterday I got the picture, my new favorite picture by the way, of my best friend outside of the hotel with the blanket on her shoulder. Operation Blanket Retrieval was a success! She selflessly offered to send the blanket by way of the post office, a genius idea by the way, tomorrow and I said not to. I said to wait.

This may seem odd but the entire exchange has kept me in a weirdly pensive perspective. I realized that, one small thing left behind was a weird stress. No one was losing sleep but it ricochet'd into an argument and nagging between my husband and I, my daughter just wanted a blanket back, an experiment in horrible customer service wrapped in weird karma, making things work for yourself, and best friends coming through in ways they ALWAYS have, with small steps for your child and huge steps for humankind.

It's just a blanket right? But that blanket was a baby shower gift from a friend that my daughter likes. I tried to buy another but they no longer make it. I tried to have it shipped and give an establishment my money to return my item to me, only to have it be, for lack of a better phrase, as shit show. My best friend selflessly volunteered to go and get it and return it and now I'm left, calm, grateful, highly amused and in no rush for return.

Maybe that blanket lives at Aunt Angela's awaiting for my daughter's triumphant return and will be the story of her six year old self. Maybe that blanket shows up with a Christmas package. Maybe that blanket shows up in October some random ass day because my best friend is sick of looking at it. 

All I know is this, we will never be staying at Holiday Inn again, and with the blanket bumble comes simplistic reminders of ALL THAT WE HAVE. I'm so lucky I have a best friend willing to go that distance in every sense. I'm lucky I have a husband that tried but got distracted and I'm lucky I'm so stubborn and persistent that the blanket didn't end up in a donation bin for no good reason. My daughter is lucky she has a mom who cares about a pink heart and peace sign blanket and that her mom also chose the best person in the world to be her only Aunt Angela and drive to fetch that thing.

These are my Thursday thoughts! We are so close to Friday!

It's Easy To Forget

I don't know about other moms, but I often forget what it was like to be a kid. I think I know, but then I quickly realize how easy it is to forget.

One battle I have with my daughter pretty consistently these days is gratefulness. I want her to know that her life has been worked very hard for to be comfortable in. She'll get upset that I don't volunteer in class much, that I don't chaperone on field trips and I remind her that I work full time to make sure she has new shoes, a new backpack and horseback riding lessons, not to mention food and water and a house a stuff. She'll complain about only having a tablet not an iPad or wanting more toys and I always shut it down with reminders that we work to give her what she has and she should be grateful.

It's not that I don't want to do that stuff for her and with her, it's that it's not so easy to pull off. And for me, that stuff being complicated and annoying - like paying $50 for a background check and fingerprinting to be allowed in the classroom - is easy to forget or to push aside. However, for her it's not so much and easy to forget thing, which is totally okay.

We have an upcoming vacation, which I've budgeted my ass off for, and of course am still stressing about, but I am so excited to just get away a bit. We haven't been away for a year. I'm ready! And while my daughter is excited to visit she keeps randomly saying to me, "But I don't WANT to go. I'll miss my friends at summer camp!" At first this irked me to no end and then I remembered that a disruption in routine and the every day can be hard and weird to embrace all the time. It was easy to forget that I was like that as a kid too.

I was that kid that got homesick, like stomach cramps and anxiety all over when I went away, especially without my parents. She can do okay with certain people, so I know once we're there she'll be fine, but I can tell that now that she's really aware of stuff and plans, she is feeling a lot more about this trip. 

It's all so easy to forget! When my friend's three year old was with me this past weekend, I totally forgot the "Why?," phase. EVERYTHING WAS WHY!? I thought I had answered the question, but still why? I thought she could be pacified, but she still asked why until I was almost blue in the face. 

Maybe the "mommy brain" thing is just so real that it bites us in the ass. Maybe we can only clearly compute the phase we are currently in with our children as opposed to being hypersensitive to our own memories to project them onto their little being. Regardless, all of this planning made me wonder why it's all so easy to forget?

There are times when I watch my daughter and I'm like, "Oh man that is an Alison trait," and other times I just have to step back and remind myself she's only 6 or that she's still such a kid. She gives me a hard time about how she's not a baby anymore and I reminder, she will ALWAYS be my baby.

It's also easy to forget how far they've come and that you can't force them into your ideas of "how it will all work." I learned that lesson the hard way over the past two years when it comes to travelling. Once we were stuck with a late flight and someone said, "She'll be fine she'll sleep on the plane." She did, then woke up violently in pain screaming about her ears and I tried to hold her and the flight attendant yelled at me for having her out of her seat. Good times.

Last year I thought on a late flight she would sleep and again, she had a hard time. She did much better flying ALL DAY and watching movies and shows on her tablet, playing games. No more long night flights where she can't just stay up. This time she is staying up until we get to the hotel and she can sleep as long as she wishes. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the whole "easy to forget" thing can go a long way in negativity. It's easy to forget how annoying travelling can be until you have that long awaited vacation. It's easy to forget how much having fun costs until you come back from your trip in some wonderful debt. It's easy to forget how much stuff you have to take with you to get through any vacation, but be grateful if you have washer and dryer access. It's easy to forget how much you LOVE YOUR HOME, until you step away for a bit. It's all about how you use it!

I thought when I wrote today I would just write about, "Hey we're going on a trip," but then all of this just started pushing through my thought processes and into a document. I kind of feel like I'm onto something in terms of holding onto the, "Easy to Forget" stuff. 

I've recently been going through a lot when it comes to friendships. It's been kind of weird because I feel like I have less support from the people that were there when things were shitty, and more support from the people who just were there with no conditions through everything lately. It's like some wanted to be a part of my drama and feed it, and some people just want to be a part of my life period. I also realized that it's so easy to forget how badly you've been treated or hurt by someone once you've moved on and evolved. We shouldn't hold grudges or hatred so letting that stuff go is so important, but it's easy to forget the bad when you're wading through the good, until that bad rears it's ugly head for a quick reminder -- you all know what I mean.

It's easy to forget all kinds of stuff anymore, which is why we have phone reminders, social media alerts and then of course text messages from other people confirming and reminding and checking in. What we have to remember is that we are ALL forgetful sometimes, so we should walk through this crazy life together kindly, if you can remember to be nice that is.

Case of the Mondays; Still Recovering From Three Kid Weekend Bonanza

This morning has been, "Just another Manic Monday, Ooooh oooh." Work has involved unnecessarily difficult customers with long-winded phone calls and the busy work seemed to be never ending. Here I am after my lunch run, finally getting to my blog and putting off a few things that can definitely wait.

So this past weekend I had my friend's son and daughter as house guests and I learned that I am 1000% supposed to only have one child. More importantly, I have a higher appreciation for anyone with more than one child, and the utmost respect and appreciation for the life and child I have created. I didn't realize how QUIET my house is with just her. Immediately, things that were once so easily done, required more tact or extra help and the things I had become accustomed to were on hiatus.

The perfect example would be going to the bathroom. Immediately I banned all children from my master bedroom and bathroom unless being given my permission for anything otherwise. I figured I needed some kind of "safe zone." I would close my bedroom door and my bathroom door but then they would bust in with some kind of issue. I couldn't even pee alone! My daughter is 6 now so I am much more used to being able to go to the bathroom alone. Not this weekend, though.

Peeing alone is like a mom-luxury that is always coveted. It was one of my favorite things about going back to work! There was no kid busting open a stall; no uncomfortable complaints about a smell from a nearby stall by the tiny person yelling at you to hurry it up. 

As far as the bed time stuff, my daughter goes down quietly and early. These kids cry loudly and go later. By Sunday I was a mombie and felt hungover from life. I could barely remember what or if I ate anything, all I knew was to have everything the kids could possibly need ever and keep feeding them. They ate their way through Saturday, Hungry Caterpillar style.

When my friend picked them up she joked, "Now you know what my life is like." I thought, well yes maybe but I think we all have a special place and special kind of patience for our own children that just doesn't always transition to "the other kids."

My husband hit it outta the ballpark helping as much as he could but Sunday morning I just hit this mental limit where I couldn't really deal very well. It was loud, there was no such thing as enough coffee and I couldn't think straight. I'd had not 10 minutes of peace because it was "take time for you, or get sleep so you can handle tomorrow." I always choose sleep. 

After the kiddos had left, my husband and I kicked into high gear on putting the house back in functioning order and by about 3PM all of us could barely move. My daughter was happy to not share and argue and watch hours of My Little Pony or play tablet. I was soooo happy that I could watch something without being chased after every 10 minutes. You could hear TVs but there was no other noise. 

What's in the Joni Mitchell song? "Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got til it's gone?" Yeah all of that and more.

Besides the fact that we had children staying with us, I realized how much I had become accustomed to my coping mechanisms, my down time, my rebooting, and my mindful eating practices that having them disrupted, even for 48 hours just really messed me up mentally. It was like I started shutting down and not being able to formulate complete thoughts. It was super stressful.

It definitely made me ready for vacation but also made me super grateful for raising my daughter to enjoy her down time, just like her mother does. She was just as exhausted and mentally spent when they left, I could tell. I knew she liked having the company, but I also know how hard it is not to be able to just be yourself in your own place. 

This morning was a little frenzied and mentally I felt like it pushed me right back into that stressed place but I took a good run on lunch and kind of got myself out of the funk. This weekend was a lot of learning about myself but I feel good about that. I feel like the lessons were imperative to keep my forward momentum and stay the path to positive growth. I know it sounds hippie but, it feels like that is what I'm working with.

The kids had fun. There were many smiles and lots of silly memories made. There were nonsensical arguments and constant tattling. There were many funny things said and really weird things done but they had a good time.

So I'm still recovering from Three Kid Weekend Bonanza and my Friday vacation launch can't come soon enough but I'm here! I came, I blogged, I conquered! Happy Monday readers!