Of Lice And Zen

There are strange kinds of rites of passage anymore. There are loose teeth, first steps, first bike rides, with and without training wheels. There are skinned knees, maybe a trip or two to the ER with some stitches, some friendly teasing is par for the course, but one rite of passage for small children makes us all itch just thinking about it:

LICE.

I had a traumatic lice experience when I was about 13 that has scarred me for life mentally. My dad and I did a road trip across the country and I picked a hotel, a chain hotel that will remain nameless, and among a toilet with a nice turd in it to start, we left with a pen, a pad of paper and some complimentary lice. They stayed dormant on me for about 3 weeks all the way until we returned home.

I was that teenager that started "collecting" stuffed animals as if to hoard for future children. My talking Elmo had to have surgery to remove the talking parts so he could be cleaned. My dad and I were mortified; it was horrible. It was after my mom had left so he felt like a crap parent and I felt so gross and embarrassed. 

It was about a month after the lice fun when I was younger that my dad took me to the salon to get a hair cut and style for the dance. They found lice and wouldn't finish my hair and I left crying. Around we went again.

Since my daughter started in school, lice is just part of the experience; it's like getting the flu or a cold, eventually it comes your way. Now I totally have serious issues and PTSD about it, so I use Tea Tree Oil as prevention a lot and have been pretty tenacious about things. I kind of always knew it could or would happen eventually.

The aftercare program my daughter attends has these outbreaks once a vacation I swear. There's one at summer, one at Christmas and now spring break. Usually we fair well but this time, BOOM, it hit both of her besties. I had been warned by the moms and stayed positive, but I accepted our fate that it could happen.

Yesterday I picked up my daughter. I was ready for early bed time and restful evening. She was in her car seat 2 minutes and she yelled, "OH MOM! I'm sooooo itchy!" I almost panicked but instead took a breath and asked, "Where?" I wanted to blame fire ant bites from the play ground or some mosquitoes but she said, "The bottom of my head and my ponytail!"

SHIT. Did you notice LICE and SHIT are both 4 letter words? Fun fact.

I remained calm and said, "Okay let's just get home and check." My daughter was an anxious wreck. Some of it looked like dirt flecks so I got out the flashlight. Ever so tiny, there they were. I Googled to be sure of course but it was them. Tiny, itchy devils! There were only about five that I spotted in one area. Off to Walgreens was the plan.

My daughter immediately crumbled, "OH mom WHY!? WHY DID I GET LICE! I'm so sorry, mom! EWWWWW! Who gave me their lice! Am I injured?" Completely out of character, I kept my cool. One issue at a time. Divide and conquer. I was in this with just her, it was just her and I, we could do it.

I called my mom who miraculously was available and asked her to come by so I could go get eradication supplies. She said, "She will want mom, I'll go to Walgreens and get whatever you need." This was huge and helpful.

Next, we tackled the sheets everywhere, and her 900 stuffed animals. Holy laundry, Batman! My daughter was still upset, distraught and just weeping. I kept calm and told her we could push through it all. She helped me with the stuffed animals and sheets and we readied her for the tub. I promise a cupcake for while she was sitting with the stuff on her head for 10 minutes. I read the directions after my mom dropped off the kit and completely coated my home in Tea Tree Oil. It smells like a hippie paradise.

My daughter has thick, curly hair. Hair brushing was already a task. This was going to suck. She did great with the stinky treatment and then the kitchen sink rinse off. The brushing, was rough. Once I started to see them appear in the hair, there weren't many but getting them out was such a pain in the ass. She was crying and screaming. I broke down 3 times just yelling at her and we both kept apologizing. I apologized for yelling and that she was going through it, and she apologized for screaming and that she had lice. Back and forth, tears and stress. 

By the end of the hour combing and brushing she was so done. I was too. She barely ate dinner and both of us were exhausted. We got home at 6. We had started everything by 6:30, we weren't done with hair until 8:30 and we stopped the mania around 9. I still had my sheets to change and endless laundry.

I told her over and over she did so wonderfully. The scramble still wasn't over. All I thought about was the first process, that's it. I didn't even kind of think about anything else. When my husband called from work to check in, he said, "Well what about tomorrow, she can't go to aftercare and come back with them again? You just treated her."

SHIT.

Now what? It was 9PM and conventionally too late to bother people. First thing, I check with the babysitter, the babysitter that I already booked from 5:30PM to 11PM because I had a concert to go to with a friend. Let's ask her to come early. The husband worked at noon. I told him to fish for help. No one took the bait.

My daughter and I passed out hard. I barely moved until just before my alarm. When I woke up the anxiety of what to do with her kicked in. There was an annoyed mom part of me that wanted to tell daddy that since he missed all the lice fun, he could just go to work late while I went back to normalcy and he could deal. The considerate mother and crazy planner started to message those in my village that were amazing helpers.

Two close mom friend of mine stepped up big time and I could rest easy at work. One more lice hurdle handled and I'm mentally prepping for another treatment this weekend. Those things are not welcome in my home.

To my surprise my daughter and I pulled it together nicely. A year ago I would have been screaming, crying and making everything so much worse. But this time I just wanted to handle the issue, and make sure my daughter knew, not only was this completely not her fault, but it was just a crappy thing that happened and it was okay to be upset. 

I grabbed her little face when I finally ceased the violent combing and said, "You did so good. You're tired. You did such a good job in a bad situation and I love you. Be tired, and just relax." I was finishing up chores and I heard her talking to the dog, as if to commiserate and say "Your sister is tired and not feeling well. Your sister had a bad day."

I went to bed and had a moment where I was disappointed that my husband wasn't around for the festivities, but then realized that I was so well adjusted to being the mother in action, that I'm not sure it would have made much difference aside from the fact he's the "better brusher." Today I called my dad and he asked how I was holding up because we both had instant flashbacks to our lice days and he wanted to check up on me. I was totally zen about the whole thing.

It's weird how these situations have ushered in more of my evolution and ability to stay calm in the chaos. I would compare it to this:

It now made me feel like the old me was Te Fiti, raging on, and now I'm all zen, and waiting to nap. 

The fact that I am so calm is so weird to most because I've been walking anxiety for years, but if I can handle what I would consider one of my worst nightmares and keep my daughter mentally intact in the midst, maybe I'm progressing as I've intended. 

Now it's Friday so I'm going to take my Zen to enjoy it and hopefully the lice understand they are undesirable #1. At least I got a great blog out of it all!

Really Big Questions Before Coffee

I spent the first four years of my daughter's life doing everything for her in the morning. I would try to get up earlier than her to sneak some quiet. Until you have a child, you do not appreciate silence. And silence, in my humble opinion, is at it's best while sipping coffee. 

I leave really early for work so morning time with my daughter is sporadic. Sometimes she is snoozing with dad and the pug and I'm the last wake up call before I pop out of the house. Sometimes she comes into the bathroom to supervise the get ready process and talk at me. My daughter doesn't stop talking from the time she wakes up, until the time she goes to bed. Laugh all you want, this isn't an exaggeration.

This morning was a pop-into the bathroom morning and she was ready to talk about everything. Unfortunately, I inadvertently left the best question right in front of her.

Not to be oversharing but after months of deliberation I just switched from Tampax to the Lunette Cup, and all I can say is it's a huge game changer, and I recommend it for anyone. I come from an environment of period-shamers and the cup has had some pretty awesome results in terms of my comfort and confidence in that arena.

I had just cleaned it this morning and left it out to dry when my daughter walked in. "Mommy, what is that?" She pointed directly at the cup. Oh man, do I have to give an anatomy lesson at 6:45? I haven't even started to boil the water for my COFFEE!

I gave her a small explanation for it's purpose and about my period but told her we could certainly talk more about it as she got older. Then came another big question: "Mommy, like how did I grow up and get so big like, how does that all happen?" Oh my gosh do I have to explain babies now? I haven't had toast or anything!

Again, a mild and dialed down version was given to her about everything and then it was: "Can I have make-up? What's that called? Why do you have two different brushes? Which one goes on your eyes? Will you wear pink today? Can you make me breakfast before you go? Can I wear my shirt from Sophia today? Can you help me find it? Did you know I didn't even hear you go to Boot Camp? I was still asleep! Was Daddy snoring a lot?"

I don't even think I can type as fast as she hurls the questions in my direction. There are so many wonderful things that come out of these conversations, but they are also exhausting. Because of life circumstances my daughter is just that kid that needs to know the plan. And mom is the planner. And when things don't go accordingly to plan, it can get upsetting so I've paid close attention to helping her navigate her feelings around all those things.

She knows the 1st Friday in August we're planning on a vacation to see PA and NY family. She knows every Saturday at the same time we have horseback riding lessons and every so often, she can switch that Saturday lesson for a different event. She needs to know how her day will look. Who is she playing with? Who is putting her to bed? Is it a normal bed time or flexible?

She is all questions and Mom is all answers. Some of the huge questions, I'm like "Uh, we'll find a video or book to better explain that." Once she asked me how did "dinosaurs get extinct?" That's a complicated question and even Land Before Time didn't really tell us everything and Jurassic Park would just scare her so, yeah. That's a long conversation, not a quick and simple answer.

We talk a lot about boobs and bodies and make-up. We talk about clothes, and ponies and friend problems. I try to steer her in the right direction with her questions but also not let her be too gossipy or dramatic, just the right amount of those. There's also a part of me that wants to enjoy that she's even asking me anything and wants to hear what I have to say.

I'm not that mom that's afraid to talk about vaginas and anatomy and how things work. I make sure she knows the right words for body parts and bodily functions and such. My child's vocabulary has always been vast and impressive, so I tell her what everything means. To my embarrassment, yes, mine is the child at the store that will announce, "Mom my vagina is really itchy!" She also likes to tell people she's "as tall as mom's boobs!"

But, again, I'd rather her have the answers to the questions, even if the answers aren't so awesome. Recently she came home talking to me about some boy telling her about Chucky, yes the doll that kills people. He told her about Chucky coming to get her and kill her dog and knives and such. I shut that down quick. I told her, Chucky is fake. He's pretend. He's a fake character with special effects made to scare people in movies and he won't hurt her. I wish I could yell at that kid. Six year old children have no need to know about CHUCKY!

The big questions before my coffee always come from curiosity, which I love and encourage just how much she wants to know about everything. It's hard to not squash that with an "I don't know, I don't care, or just be quiet," when life gets tough and I've tuned into the fact that I may have been doing that, even unconsciously. I've had many discussions with the husband about how, as a little girl, it's so important that she feels like she can be heard and say what she wants to say, even if it seems like nonsense to us.

Weekday mornings I'm always in "a hurry," and I remind her often to please not be "in my way," but this morning I made some time for her really big questions. Sometimes they need to be "continued" at a different time when mommy can function better. But most often, even as they seem annoying when I'm not at my best mom moments, I'd rather have her ask me everything than not talk to me at all. 

She's still my baby and is learning and absorbing EVERYTHING. There is plenty of time for her to keep things from me and give me the silent treatment when I piss her off. For now I really want to talk about the make-up brushes, my period, My Little Pony and extinct dinosaurs, even if it's before coffee. 

Menial Tasks Are All Me

Am I the only person who loves being given a specific, albeit menial task, just because you know exactly how it should be done, and why? Maybe I am, but there's a certain sense of accomplishment that comes with it's completion, and I am all for it.

I love a good spreadsheet or "search and find" task. Any form of organization makes me feel useful. Watching the hours pass as I type or enter data makes me feel calm. Maybe that's completely pathetic and lame, but I'm always up for a good mind-numbing to do list. 

I like the kind of work where you can't completely daydream but it also doesn't require complete and utter concentration with full attention. I hate being bored or feeling lazy and useless. I hate having to worry about selling things or selling people on the idea of me selling things to make money. I labor much better under the agreement of you pay me, I do the work and it goes both ways.

I've seen this menial-happiness come and go with my jobs. In my nanny days I always wanted to find fun things for us to do, make play dough, read books, craft, go on adventure walks, watch new kid movies and I always tidied up at the end. I loved having control of all the fun kid plans. With my first retail gig at a medical apparel store, I loved reorganizing the displays and even counting inventory. I liked ordering the different styles and patterns of things and entering things into the system. 

At the one restaurant I worked in, I always liked organizing the cash station so I could be more efficient. But when I worked at Massage Envy there was lots of merchandise to arrange, and we had to situate who went into what room when, which was like a weird version of Tetris. I got really good at it by the time I left. 

Jobs where I don't have those things, I get really anxious and I don't do well, or so now I have discovered. When I worked at HSN overnights from home, the things I liked most, were against the "rules." Like I knew that the little old ladies that called me at 1AM to spend their pension on gaudy jewelry just wanted someone to talk to, I also knew that this would allow them to buy more as the conversation went on, but we were to stick to the script, keep the calls under a certain time barrier and move them along. I didn't get into it.

My other two jobs in between then and now, came with more than a few unpleasant attributes, they may be part of my book someday. But now that I have a legit office job with Alison-friendly tasks, I actually like helping do weird things like taking a country club address book and typing almost 900 lines into excel to make mailing labels for my boss and his wife. It doesn't bother me I just put on some good tunes and go!

Even at home, cleaning and arranging don't bother me because I know the task at hand. And then I earn my lazy TV time later in the day so it's easy checks and balances. I think there is a weird comfort there.

Don't get me wrong, I've never turned down a job, because I've always needed to work to like, pay bills and stuff, but we've all had less-than-awesome jobs. Not every job will use our skills to their fullest advantage. We barely use our own potential and abilities to the fullest. 

I can edit, write and spreadsheet like nobody's business. I learned how to research and collect data with my degree! It's not always easy but it always has results, and there's something in there that gives me gratification and keeps me grounded.

I'm learning that I've become very good at tuning out the chaos. My personal world has been somewhat manic until recently. It's been an emotional train-wreck at times. I've seen and even felt it affect me at jobs, both negatively and positively depending on the circumstances. Sometimes I have weathered it well, and other times it's been pretty destructive, especially when I'm working in a position that doesn't allow me to use my best attributes productively. 

I will help with any menial task. Stapling flyers, printing and filing, organizing and ordering supplies, typing, emailing, and researching, BRING IT ON!

I find comfort in routines and feeling control of the tasks in front of me, and I think this is telling in terms of my circumstances. I've been coming to terms with and processing a lot emotionally lately. What I'm working on most is my acceptance that I can't control the actions of anyone else, but just my reaction to what they put in front of me. I can't force ANY relationship to go the way I want to. Not even a mom friend, not even my relationship with my own child. My dog doesn't even always listen to me! But I can control my acceptance of the things in front off me.

This is a daily reminder and struggle. Constant mantras being muttered and internal sorting out of how to deal with all the feels! Because when I go to bed with my new and epic early bed time routine, I'll sleep better knowing I'm okay with how I reacted or with not getting my perfect idea of something, because I did my data entry like a boss, I released some updates faster today, or I came up with better social media hashtags. Little wins are a big deal and anything menial is mine!

Here's to Monday and I'm headed back to my menial research and spreadsheet action. 

Most Of Parenting Is Uncomfortable And Isn't Covered In A Single Book

You read all the books right? The parenting books? The parenting theories and ideas? Yeah, me neither. I don't buy them, pun intended. I don't buy them and I don't buy the idea that anyone actually knows "how" to parent. It's all improvisation. We all do what we can.

So I'm going to write about how I'm a bad mom or a confused mom I guess. And if anyone wants to reach out for advice on this one, I'm in. 

We have a little girl that lives close by and used to come over often. She is two years older than Luna. I knew only a little bit about the family situation as, 1) it's none of my business, 2) I do everything in my power not to be a judgmental person and 3) again, none of my business. What I gathered is that she lived partly with mom, partly with Dad, Stepmom, and Grandmother, who lived closest to us and we conversed with from time to time. She was home often with just her grandmother. 

Things were okay for awhile. Admittedly, I don't like most children that are not mine, I'm only partial to maybe like 7 or 8 kids that I see regularly, most others are not my favorite for one reason or another. But finally I started paying closer attention and I heard the little girl, a guest mind you, telling Luna she was smarter than her, she was bigger than her, she was better than her. Any food we offered was "disgusting and she's a picky eater anyway." Any toys we had, she had better ones, but didn't want to go home." She would cry and fight and scream immediately if she didn't get her way. She was even mean to the dog.

I kept telling myself that every kid is different, maybe she was going through something, and I just needed to be patient and kind. But finally I heard her telling my daughter she was "stupid" and my daughter was saying, "Hey if we don't get along, we can't play, let's try this. Okay, how about this?" This little girl constantly said, no, no, no, those ideas were dumb and I even heard some "shut ups" here and there. 

The last straw was when I made lunch. I came from a household that was very much, "Eat what is put in front of you and be thankful someone prepared food for you, like it or not!" This kiddo was apparently quite the opposite. I made my daughter a turkey and cheese sandwich and asked her what she would like. She complained and started combing my fridge and pantry. "You can just make me mac and cheese I guess," she shrugged. I said, "Well no, that's the last box we have and I'm not making a separate meal for just you. We're having sandwiches. Would you like turkey and cheese? Salami and cheese? Peanut butter and jelly?" "Just cheese," she said. "Oh like a grilled cheese sandwich," I asked her to clarify. "No just slices of cheese." I sighed. "Okay." I plated two slices of mild cheddar on the plate and she ate half of one slice, said she was full and wanted dessert. Nope. Maybe at your house kid. She ended the lunch with "I mean that cheese was gross anyway." 

It ended up being more "shut ups" and rudeness for the remainder of the play date and after she threw a tantrum and was sent home I talked to my daughter. I told her I'm not so sure we could have her over anymore. My daughter asked why and I told her that I didn't like the way she spoke to her and the way she made her feel after they were together.

I noticed that after their play dates my daughter would become rude and whiny. She would talk about being better than other kids and taller, smarter and bigger. I didn't like it. She would complain more and listen less, like looking up to this kid who kept making an example of what older and better looked like, was her only example. 

This was about 6 months ago and honestly we've been so busy that having her over just became less and less possible, so it was dropped from being an issue. My daughter sees her at school though and says she's nicer now. She's been asking to play with her.

Here's my thing: it's not my place or my responsibility to parent this kid. I can't force her to act in the way that I want my child to act. I can't make her be kind, thoughtful and respectful. And I also have no idea what she's going through at home so me being the "mean mom" serves no one. But when another kid is just mean and malicious to my daughter? I lose my nice filter and I want to put the little shit bag in her place. Excuse the language but just thinking about the behavior ticks me off.

These are the things no one tells you about in the parenting books. My husband says I should talk to her parents to which I quickly snap, "You go to talk to her parents!" Because I'm a mature adult like that. 

How do you have a conversation like that? "Hey your kid is kind of an asshole, sorry!" Plus, this is just my Mama bear opinion. Maybe they think Luna is an asshole! My kid might be a handful, but I'm a biased mother that assumes her child is perfect except when she's testing my boundaries. That's motherhood, right?

So I just let things fizzle. I mean how involved in their lives should I be? Where is the overstepping of boundaries. On the one hand maybe she has grown up a bit and they can play better together. On the other, do I put myself in a position to let her more or less bully my daughter again if that is what it comes to? So here comes more of the balancing act, another subject not even remotely covered in parenting books.

My newest idea is to reach out and invite her back over, but only let them play here under my strict supervision. Perhaps only when my husband and I are both home, so that we can better balance the situation. Besides, over with this kid's grandmother my daughter eats more junk in an hour than she does in a week. Yeah I was that kid too, but my mom never stepped in and did anything! I am not going to be THAT mom. 

So here I am, letting Luna have a play date with one of my favorite children, not this other kid yet, while I'm writing this out and mulling it over, while I'm finding my balance and bearings with it all. They don't cover this in the books and they romanticize so much of parenting in all television and movies, or make it into satire so you can't actually say, "Yes I completely relate."

This is the part of parenting that I hate. It's uncomfortable to talk about, write about and to deal with. It makes you feel like a bad mom, and kind of a not so great person. It makes you question how horrible you are in actuality. Am I completely horrible or like a normal amount of horrible? Those are not fun questions.

Please send me a copy of the parenting book that helps you deal with asshole kids and their parents. Or perhaps this is my calling to write one, because it feels really unfair. We all parent differently and every single child is different and we are all a product of our environment. I barely even attribute myself as being a "good mom" so I certainly have no right to call out any other parents. I just do my best to protect my kid. I'm doing what I can.

I'm sure this will warrant another installment. I have no doubt in fact. But for now, I hope that some other parent reads this and can either send along advice, or thinks "Damn, I'm so glad I'm not the only one." One small step for me in motherhood, one giant step for me trying to be less horrible in general. 

I shall write more as things progress. Happy Sunday!

Sometimes You Just Need A Nap

I saw this meme that I'm promptly posted that said "I feel like I'm tired already tomorrow." This is me. Always.

Now I thought this was just a part of me as a person. Sleep is my favorite hobby. Alison needs her sleep. I also figured I lost enough sleep during infancy and working nights that now I was just trying to hoard it. Now we know I have thyroid type issues. Or so they surmise thus far. I blame that.

Being resilient doesn't come without waves of exhaustion. My post yesterday was in an exhausted stupor, which some of my faithful readers probably picked up on. And this morning was more "go go go."

Look, I haven't practiced "The Art Of Doing Nothing," since I became a mother. That luxury is not one afforded. And my abilities or even inabilities to relax come in waves. Sometimes my body literally is like, "Bitch you're going to slow down, watch."

This week was a shoulder injury, lots of fun, so heating pad time is a daily routine. I'm still nursing it. And then staying up too late every single night finally caught up to me. Last night I thought I was super clever. I took an Excedrin PM and was asleep by 9:30PM! But then from 11:30PM to about 4AM I was awakened every hour or so by child, dog or husband until I finally ended up on the couch until my 6:30AM alarm to rally the troops for church.

I had an Excedrin hangover haze. Not fun. And then I was so cold in church I was physically uncomfortable, also thyroid related. I was super miserable. When we came home I walked the dog, and decided to "warm up and lay down" for a bit. Apparently I passed out for a little over an hour and woke to my husband assuring me that the kid was content and he was off to work. I guess I needed it.

I'm that person who sees naps as something I need to book in advance, like a massage. Rarely do I get to just "Have one," so sneaking one today was inadvertently amazing.

Of course I woke up in cleaning mode in order to "earn my relaxation" later. I have since done the tubs and wiped down all surfaces while my faithful RoboVac picks up all the floor yuck. My daughter has been crafting and creating and I slowed down to blog it out.

Sometimes you DO just need a nap. More often than not, we DESERVE a darn nap. We work hard, we play hard. We spend too much time doing what we "should" instead of doing what is "good" for us and that's something I am the worst at. Why watch 3 hours of television when you could paint that shelf you've been meaning to? Oh well because sometimes we need a bit of lazy!

I think we are so hard on ourselves and it's hard not to be hard on ourselves as redundant as it seems. It's work, workout, family dinner, bed time routine, repeat in some way, shape or form. I know plenty of people who operate on like 4 hours of sleep and somehow keep kicking ass at life. I, for one, cannot even be kind of nice without my 8. I can function but I'm a mean, mean redhead.

I'm learning that self care is anything BUT selfish, or should be. I'm learning that sometimes YOU JUST NEED A NAP. And there's no shame in that! You're human! We're all humans! I'm learning that boundaries, either with friends, spouses, co-workers, and within yourself are necessary some times and that this is all part of adulting, whether we like it or not.

So I'm going to enjoy the rest of my Sunday even if it's covered in cleaning and laundry. I will binge-watch and relax because tomorrow is back to the grind! Take a nap if you haven't yet! I fully support it!

Saturday Slow Down

It's Saturday night. My husband switched shifts and is at work. My daughter is binge-watching My Little Pony on "the big TV," and I'm in my room with The Office on in the background, the heating pad on my back avoiding laundry, counting down to bed time for us both and toying with the idea of a long shower.

This is my Saturday slow down. I don't know about other households, but for me, the weekends go way too fast and always have so much going on. Last night we switched things up and my husband took the kiddo to Daddy Daughter Date Night and I drove two hours to get "free" tickets to an upcoming concert as a birthday present to myself. We all went to bed at like 10PM. We are all exhausted and we have early church things tomorrow.

Saturday Slow down consists of popcorn, tea, and blogging apparently. I'm mentally trying to prioritize the rest of my evening while appreciating the little wins for today. 

The little wins were getting to horseback riding lessons early and being patient that they were running late. I got to catch up with two of my favorite people and hear how they were doing and talk about normal, wonderful mom things. And I'm more centered and focused on the now lately.

My struggles right now are definitely tribe-based. It's hard for me to sift through how to process certain exchanges and friendships. I have so many people in my corner, that's undeniable, but I definitely practice the "know your audience" rule about you can talk about certain things with certain people and how those certain people influence me in general.

This is something that I'm really in tune with right now. It ties into my perspective and mindfulness. But lately I've been so tired, it's tough to muster much energy to delve into it all, but I think I might find some new ways to better explore all of this. And I'm open to suggestions.

So for this Saturday night, while it is short and sweet, here's a little win from my room to you all that I actually completely the blog in the midst of exhaustion, confusion and chore avoidance. I hope you all have Saturdays that rock, Saturdays that are super fun and productive. I'm hoping Sunday will be that "day of rest" I've heard about. So here I go!

Perspective Is Half The Battle

You know that really annoying saying that personal trainers use too often, "Mind over matter?" Or like, "It's all a mental battle," and overthinking and expectations are bad?

It's taken me two rough and therapeutic years to wrap my head around what should be a reasonable concept, that perspective is everything, but I'm closer than I've ever been before and here to write about it!

This is something I work on daily. It is very much another practice in mindfulness. I work hard to internally chose my attitude and react to things after some thought, instead of only first reactions. It's like typing an angry text, just never press send because there is no "unsend."

Sometimes I think I'm just too tired for the fight and the terror state anymore. I'd really like to think it has everything to do with growth and evolving as an adult, even though I think adulting is crap, but there are certainly some parts that are important. 

Here are a few examples: during an extremely dark phase where I was making less than awesome choices, I was angry, irrational and just so filled with every part of me being upset that I was losing control. I was consumed by my personal turmoil. This made me self-conscious, unhealthy, insecure, and very obnoxious at times. I started to adopt a "Forget you" attitude about people that weren't acting the way I wanted, and anyone who didn't support my mania.

None of it worked. I was miserable. One friend, who was also going through some shit, and I had a row because we were taking out the dysfunction on each other instead of lending support. Never again, we said after finally coming to peace. To this day I hate that we even hit that point. And I hate that I had a heavy hand in it. 

Another example is, how much time have I wasted being upset over something I just can't change? I can't make the result any different. I just can't. I can only react to what is in front of me, to the best of my ability. I can't force someone to text me back, no matter how much I want a response. I can't force someone to reach out to me, when I'm feeling tired of being "the friend who checks in." I can't make someone want to make time to be around me, I can only be enjoyable to them if they choose to make the time! Or so I can try.

None of this is simple. All of it is uncomfortable. All of it revolves around perspective. 

One time I got called out on being a hater. The person who brought this to me, wasn't wrong, but there was no tact in telling me, or possible understanding that I might be deflecting my own personal detriment onto the accomplishments of others. And it was some time after that I realized my perspective was just completely off.

It wasn't about what I didn't have and what others did. It was about my outlook. With that said, for a long time I was talking myself out of my ambitions and goals and into accepting what I thought was my status. This wasn't quite the best direction, unfortunately. It was a slight derail but I've made my rounds now. 

And it's at this point where I'm more peaceful than I have been for a long time, which often borders on ambivalence, but I'm taking it for what it is, less stress. I seem to have figured out my tribe and whom I can converse with about what. This is quite a science.

When I was being a self-destructive mess, I told everyone everything and got a lot of judgement and negative advice. You learn really quickly to be more selective about who you let in when you do that. When I started to better cultivate my feelings, I was able to express myself and what I needed much better. And people responded way better to the amendments, let me tell you.

I stopped planning things with the ideas that "this might work for them." I could be invited, I could do everything in my power to attend, if it happened, it happened, if not, more time at home or with my daughter or to myself. I started limiting the obligatory events, tasks and meet-ups and shamed myself less for self care. I stopped obsessing about the responses of others.

I wish I could have all those hours I lost obsessing over text messages that were never read, never responded to, or responded to in ways I didn't like, back. I wish I could have those hours back to use wisely. I would probably have a vacation out of it. I'm much less anxious about it. In fact I had one crazy slip in the last 6 months where I lost it over some mixed communications and I was like, 'Never again. You achieved nothing, you didn't feel better after the tantrum and you looked like a psycho. Nope. Done."

We try to decode what has no code. We read too much into a simple text, and we put too much emotion into stunted communication. How else do you think the emoji was born? Seriously!

It's all about how you approach things, how you look at things, and that ever-important reaction. It's easy to mis-read, especially in the world of text messages and broken communication. It's easy to overthink. I feel like I may be the single best over-thinker ever. But I've been more mindful to not do that...as much!

I got a text from a friend last week talking about being busy and texting inhibiting cell-phone work related functions. I could have let it crush me and tank my day. I mean who wouldn't want to talk to me!? But instead I just said some nice things and asked to be text sometime when not at work or interfering. I still haven't heard back, but there are so many extenuating circumstances in life. I refuse to think of myself as "not important enough" or "not a priority" for someone. I cannot force interaction or anyone's acceptance of the many ways of Alison. When it is meant to be significant, when we can make the time, it will happen, or so I've discovered recently. I leave the universe to it.

Maybe this sounds, a little too "hippie dippy" as my husband says from time to time. Maybe it sounds like too much mental maintenance. I will say this, I have seen many changes, especially in my anxiety, by exercising these coping mechanisms for upset. Because it can feel upsetting when you reach out and get no response or one you didn't really want. It can all feel so defeating and rejecting at times. But it's all about the perspective. If you adjust your perspective, however small, it can have pretty big effects.

This isn't an entry about doing it "my way" or to change your life. But as an anxious, depressive, overthinking mess of a woman who deals with a lot on a regular basis and is finally coming to terms with her trauma, if my journey can help ONE person. Then this blog is worth everything. It's just something to think about. Pursue different perspectives. I'd love to hear from you all! Feel free to reach out!

I Am A Serial Plant Killer

I just finished devouring all of The Ted Bundy Tapes on Netflix and while, as an American, I'm naturally intrigued by serial killers and love crime drama type things, it has brought to light my own issues, which include my penchant for killing plants. I am a serial killer...of plants.

This isn't a malicious thing. I don't hunt and attack the plants. But if you give me a plant to water and care for, I will kill it. I mean, come and look at my yard. I'm the complete opposite of any kind of green thumb at all. I'm the black thumb...black death.

My problem is, I don't really care about plants, and again it's not like I want to purposefully hurt them, they just aren't on my radar. I keep my dog and my kid alive and healthy. The same just cannot be said for plants.

I haven't been given many plants, but I inevitably kill them all. I have at least a dozen that have met their demise under my care. I do okay with a bouquet of flowers but those are eventually supposed to die so I feel no remorse there. In the past few years though, I have received too many plants that have not survived me.

After the car accident people gave us a few "Our thoughts are with you" types of plants. These were simple grocery store or Lowe's garden section plants. Nothing impressive really, but they barely lasted a week. I forget to water. Or I over-water, or they get no air or sunlight. They are neglected. Even outdoor plants get neglected. Why water them? Ever heard of rain?

It was about a year and a half ago when we had a house warming that a church friend gave me a "mother-in-law" or snake plant type thing and said, "Don't worry, this thing is actually hard to kill." This one lasted the longest of any plant that I have received but I did, eventually, kill it. I think it was able to live with me about 7 months. Never would I claim that this plant thrived.

I even consciously wanted to keep that damned plant alive with no luck! The plants hate me, we just do not get along.

And now for my daughter's birthday my cousin got her something super cool, interactive and thoughtful...succulents. I think we may have already lost one or two. I've replanted with proper soil and am watering, sunning and trying, but I have made no promises to these plants. I fear the worst.

I watch other people who love plants and I'm in awe. I feel like I lack that capacity to adore and care for plant life. I can match outfits, arrange, organize, file, clean, type, write, even sew, but things involving plants are just not my forte. If it were up to me, we wouldn't even have a yard, just a huge screened enclosure with firepit, grill, and hot tub. Not kidding.

I love nature. I was raised in nature and with a deep respect for nature and it seems I may be one of the only people in my entire family who has no interest in caring for plant life and keeping it happy and alive. I have seriously and serially killed all plants that have come into contact with me. I may not be Bundy-style deranged and psychopathic but these poor plants have never even seen it coming!

Perhaps I'm too focused on my own personal growth!

I Heart Routines

Vacations, weekends away, visitors coming and going, adventures and such are super duper fun. They are the best; wonderful exhaustion. But I am a person in love with my routines. 

My dad came to stay with us for two weeks which was awesome, because we had a lot of help with stuff around the house, but sharing your space is tough, no matter who you are. And I certainly know he was ready to go home by the time he left.

Disrupted routines are difficult for me, even though I'm so "resilient" because I'm such a creature of habit. This isn't to just admit that I'm uptight and unwavering, also attributes I have, but just saying that "going with the flow" only takes me so far. At the end of it all, I just hit a wall where I wanted to not be afraid to walk around my house in just underwear if I was rushing, not have to feel the need to "engage" and "entertain" and eat popcorn in my bead while watching too much Netflix.

There were also really silly things I couldn't indulge in, like face masks and hair tweezing, when you have company. Those are like, before bed things, not things to do when you have guests. 

I always forget how much children need their routines too. My daughter was just all over the place. Every morning my daughter rushed to check on grandpa, have breakfast with grandpa, talk to grandpa. And the evenings were about time with grandpa too. She had so much fun bonding with him, but needed her run of the mill routines to keep her grounded. This all happened around her birthday, too. What a whirlwind.

For me, it always amazes me how I can share my space well with "my people" but with others, everything irritates me. Like I have some secret space for endless patience and understanding with anyone related to me, like immediate family, but anyone else pushes me over the edge. 

My visit with my dad was good and productive. He hadn't been to see the "new" house and I think he taught hubby a few things about using what you have around the house to make what you need, and making it "look pretty" can come after. It's function and frugality over what looks best, especially on a budget. 

It was most important to me that she have some adolescent time with her grandpa. I feel like she's finally old enough to do more stuff. She's interactive, she's fun, she's smart, super aware and hilarious. Even with the six year old maintenance, she's mostly a precious joy...mostly. 

Luna, much like her mother, needs a picture of her day, she needs to stick to the same routine and plan, and deviating from it can be difficult. Some leniency with this can come with age, but for now she needs her schedule. 

Currently she just had a major meltdown and hit a wall. She is decompressing in the tub and we had to rearrange activities. I was the one easiest to say, "Go with the flow," for this change of plans and the little one brought out all the "hurting my feelings" and "breaking my heart" lines to sway us differently.

Sometimes you have to give up, stay home and reboot to be able to kick off the great routines again. This goes along with saying no to certain things and saying yes to others; to being a little anti-social and a little more self-care conscious. 

Routines are my favorite and I love them dearly. I hold them close in the chaos. I open up the forum to hear about yours, what works for you, and what rocks the boat a bit too much. Because I will forever heart my routines. 

Today's Post Brought To You By Resilience

I have recently been defined as exhibiting resilience, so I Googled the exact definition: the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress; an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change. 

Let's break this down.The capability of a strained body to recover it's size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress. Two words: CAR ACCIDENT.

An ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change? I possess said ability, yes. Adjust easily? Define easily! Easily to misfortune and change? Hmm...I don't recall any of it being done easily but just being done.

I'm not sure how to feel about this being me. In some ways it is complimentary but I can't help struggle with the feeling that I shouldn't have to be so resilient. This is why my new favorite word is wobbly, which is definitely a move from ambivalence, most likely in the right direction. 

Some of my easy adjustments to misfortune and change are from exhaustion. Sometimes I can't have that same argument over and over. Some of my adjustments to misfortune and change have come with tantrum, depression and all of them with anxiety. But I put on a good game face, that much is true.

I posted just last night about being that person who can look completely put together while internally just collapsing. You can say something that completely breaks me and my worst response would just be resting bitch face, I just get stone-faced and absorb whatever offensiveness affronts me. Sometimes that feels cowardly, other times I'm just avoiding confrontation like a normal anxious depressive adult.

But lately I just ask myself, is it worth getting upset about? As a woman we are notoriously labeled as nagging, whining, high maintenance beings. It's pretty unfair but sometimes we do live up to the stereotype, sorry to say. But then again, how many times should we have to adjust "easily" and "handle" the misfortune and change. 

I've been mistreated, I've been taken for granted, hurt physically, emotionally and spiritually like the rest of us. I've even experienced a degree of sexual assault and yet, I prove my resilience right? Is that a compliment though? To be able to put up with all of this? Maybe we shouldn't have to.

After everything with the #metoo movement it became more clear to me than ever that all women are resilient. We all handle more than our share, and most often with grace and composure, but we shouldn't have to. And this isn't to say that we need to take our resting bitch faces and turn on "the bitch switch." But I feel like we can use our resilience to better ourselves and our world, instead of letting it define us.

I think my issue with resilience is there is a feeling for me, of an underlying "doormat" -sub-context and really it's more about strength and calculation. Most change is difficult but we push our growth and do what we have to as we persevere. Misfortune hits us all, and maybe we need a day to cry and feel all the feelings, but most of us shed our tears and soldier on because we have to.

So while resilience is good, and I'm glad it is said to me as a compliment, I strive for more. I want more growth and evolution. And I'm surely going to use that resilience to get me there! 

Saturday Success: Small Things Are Often Big Wins

I'm going to make a blanket judgement that most of your family Saturdays include chores, obligatory events like sports or parties and then squeezing in some fun recreational event by choice because it's Saturday. Or perhaps a date night! 

So, this Saturday for us was multifaceted success and it's only 6:30 as I type. Why? We successfully got to Horseback Riding lessons, despite a tantrum had an amazing lesson and then did a great separate together thing. Let me elaborate.

This week was rough for my husband and I. You all know those weeks. Where things are functional but not fine. And today was a great example of our ability to overcome. After Horseback Riding lessons I had scheduled myself a first and last massage of 2019. Massage is something I LOVE but rarely indulge. And today was the epitome of TREAT YO SELF. My husband took my dad and daughter to his old restaurant, which while I respect where that restaurant brought us, it's not my personal favorite.

So it was a win, win. Because he got to go to a place that was not my favorite, and I got to go seriously spoil myself with no repercussions. Then we all met at home and he brought me my absolutely favorite sub from a different restaurant but in the same plaza and we all did a few chores before meeting all the friends at the brewery.

The Safety Harbor brewery is one of my favorite social spots because it allows for kids to play outdoors while you socialize and drink local beer. All the best in one spot. So we met with kids and parents and friends alike and had some beer and wine. And then we came home with an impending fire pit situation, glorious leftovers and my husband promising cookies, decent bed times, sleeping in and breakfast. Happy lady over here right now.

After spending time with my visiting dad and also some insanely wonderful friends this week, I felt better and okay with being kinder to myself and maybe more gentle even. I just felt more okay with being vocal about what I wanted, and what I needed and it seemed to be received well.

Don't get me wrong. I like to think of myself as quite a glorious mess, but one worthy of shock and awe, and definitely friendship. Small successes like a seemingly effortless day are huge in my world. Much like my dad giving me a real bathroom door that opens and closes and gives me privacy being the greatest thing about 2019 so far! YES, A DOOR!

I realized that in 2018 I worked so hard on myself. I worked on why I was upset, what made me upset and what was I losing and gaining with all these feelings? How could I better approach a situation? Is it worth the upset and the tears? Does my reaction change anything or would it be better to change my reaction? All of these parallels I wrestled with and inched myself into a better position of peace. 

I try to offer my learned lessons to people struggling when I feel they are ready to hear some of it but often find it not well received. And I was in the presence of the person who inadvertently taught me these lessons in the kindest of ways and just felt overwhelmingly grateful. I'm grateful for my journey. 

This journey, no matter how frustrating or uncomfortable, got me to today's successes of time for myself, time with friends, time with family, fire pits,  favorite leftovers and feverishly posting this blog so I can pig out on cookies. Saturday successes rock! 

I Live For Lazy Sundays

I think most moms would agree with me that life is just way too busy. Any single chance that I have to curl up in bed, watch too much TV and decompress, I'm there.

Sundays are often filled with church, which I do enjoy, but it's a total of 45 minutes to an hour drive and means rushing in the morning to rally the troops. I rush Monday through Saturday, because Saturday we have horseback riding lessons, and I'm the one who gets up first, gets everyone up and going and make everyone stay timely. 

So if we can stay home on a Sunday, I want it filled with "sleeping in," unlimited cups of coffee in bed, Netflix, and a big old breakfast. This just doesn't happen enough. I will admit that if I could force every Sunday to be this way, I would but life happens before my big breakfast needs.

I grew up in the church. My dad was a Presbyterian minister. Most people end up surprised when I tell them that because once I moved in with my mom when I was 16, we never went to church. The only gathering place we hit up with any kind of routine or reverence was the mall.

And then when I moved back with my dad I was an angsty teenager with no desire to feed my soul with anything that wasn't Taco Bell, girly alcoholic beverages, and junk food. And my dad never forced me to go to church. Especially in my formative years.

To make things weirder, I spent a good 10 years in Catholic school because my mom went there and it was one of the best schools in the county so off I went. Catholicism was intense honestly and I don't think I ever really understood all of it, which got me into trouble in religion class. Even thought I got all A's, when I asked too many well-thought questions I was quickly silenced. 

But, back to Sundays. My husband wasn't raised going to church at all. Our first jobs we had in Florida, the only day the place was closed was Sunday, which quickly became our only day to sleep in, do anything together and reboot before another work week.

So lazy Sundays became a natural thing to us. It is, after all, the day of rest. And now with life so busy, it's a day I very much appreciate being slowed down when the time is right. And this morning was one of those perfect opportunities.

It started pouring down rain about 6AM and my daughter crawled into bed with me with a stuffy, yucky nose and said, "Mom do we have to go to church this morning? I don't want to be coughing on the other kids." Although we don't have much of a winter in Florida, this is our one cold week and yesterday was tolerable but cold rain? No thank you. That's why I moved far away from Oregon.

She just wanted to chill and binge watch Netflix and I just wanted to not rush to be anywhere. Eventually I mustered up the energy to hit the store for big breakfast necessities but other than that I've been hiding at home all day.

My daughter made a fortress from a cardboard box. I've done 4 loads of laundry. I've reorganized the pantry, cleaned some cupboards, and I might do party favor prep for my daughter's birthday next week. And the weather is perfect for all the snuggles. 

These days are so few and far between I love to bask in them when I can. Life seemingly never slows down and we're always too busy, so when days like this come around, I say no to "obligatory" things and "we should do this, that" or the next thing, and just try and enjoy each other. I'd call today a success. 

Happy Sunday readers! Back to the grind tomorrow.