Wear And Tear

I tend to write my best stuff when I'm going through some of my most volatile emotions and life questions. Today I'm feeling the wear and tear of things. For any Sex and the City fans, if you recall Charlotte getting all worked up in the shower about things in her marriage and sex life and having to bow to the whims of others, I'm feeling that sentiment hardcore today.

This won't be a complaining diatribe about how everyone sucks. Every relationship has the give and the take. Everything is accommodation, expectation adjustment and compromise. Every so often though, I just get worked up Charlotte style and feel as though I want to quit on life and hide.

Today's frustration is born of mostly work-related things, but considering this is still the best job I've ever had, I tread lightly. See the thing is, I have the trait of being hyper-organized, if I'm being totally transparent. It's something I come into naturally, and it is often used at the advantage of everyone, and at my wits end. 

I arrange the play dates, I plan the birthday parties, I invite the people, I gather friends for dinner. I set the times for moms night out, I book the flights, I restock the house of necessities, I wash and fold the laundry. I organize the school papers, I figure out carpool issues, I book the hotels, VRBOs, arrange the sitters and schedule family photos. It's exhausting actually. But whatever, I'm a planner.

Because of this attribute, it is impressioned upon me that I adopt the plans of others and effectively become a physical google-reminder notification in some cases. I'm the one that checks in, harasses kindly but just to the point of obnxiousness, and puts together every damned life event, or so it feels today.

If we are invited to a wedding, I do all the research on where and book the place to stay and how to get there, and I make sure everyone has proper fitting attire, I get the shower gift, the wedding gift and ensure that we arrive on time. If we host a dinner, I will do the bulk of the shopping, arrange the timing, kid food, activities and make sure the house is spotless.

This isn't to say I'm a one woman show. The husband cooks and helps often, but as far as taking the forefront on arranging? That will always be my "thing." I don't know if he even has the sitter's phone number and he's never asked her to babysit. That is always me. I am commissioned to solve the lack of planning ability of others and work around it, and it tests me to no end.

This morning was a reiteration of yesterday of the reach out, no response, the follow up because I needed a timely response, yet was still left with no response. Finally I had to call and the first question I got was, "Why did you wait so long to call?" Can you feel my eyes roll through the blog? Two texts and an email, and the call was the last ditch effort and then I'm asked why the call wasn't first? My question is...why must I chase what I need to facilitate my day?

Have you ever felt like your world is just pure chaos of the whims of others? I feel the wear and tear of this often. Some days I wear it like a cape and it makes me super-mom or epic wife and best friend to all. Other days I have my selfish narcissistic moment of ,"Well what about me?"

My time with my husband is always on his days off. My mom helping me with anything is almost always by her schedule and not mine. And like a fantastic doormat, or a typical Rachel move, I just work around it. There's a weird line between being flexible and being a pushover.

I don't feel "preyed upon" for my pushover status but I truly feel as though, after going through such long periods of time feeling unheard or having what I was saying misunderstood or downplayed, I just became so quiet that I started saying "yes" to avoid the conflict or explanation of why I said "no."

Just a year ago I was in this weird place where I was volunteering a lot. There were a handful of times where I could say with confidence I actually got something out of it, but mostly I noticed how much disarray there was with logistics and the events were rarely kid friendly. It became this huge stress and burden for me. There were times when I was expected to participate and I'd drive to the next county over and then find out I wasn't needed or there wasn't a place for me. It was doing a number on me mentally. That's when I had to learn the art of boundaries.

It has taken me years in therapy to get this whole boundaries thing. Sometimes I am clear as day with the boundaries stuff and I still am pushed over. It's takes it's mental toll and there you have that wear and tear factor again.

Sometimes it wears on me that I have to be so proactive or overactive in relationships and social things just to maintain them. Sometimes it tears me apart how hard I work with little feedback. On the other hand, boy does it completely alter my perspective in a positive direction for recognizing the people in my life that repair rather than wear and tear.

I have friends that are just healing forces. They completely share the give and take and make our friendship work well. But I can't lie, they aren't all that way, and that's actually okay. Not only do these exchanges give me lessons in boundaries, but I have gone through life phases were I couldn't muster the give and take, and I wasn't the best reciprocate-er either. 

The wear and tear of feeling so responsible for arranging the "stuff" of others can vary. I've had my low down, hateful days filled with swear words and anger about why is it MY problem and why is it MY fault and why is it MY responsibility? Sometimes it can feel dark and hopeless holding onto that internal ultimatum of if I don't do it, who will? Such as, if I don't text that person, they probably won't text me and if they won't text me are we still even friends? Or if I don't set up play dates then the kid won't have play dates and if the kid doesn't have play dates, she'll be grouchy and take it out on me. It can turn into a weird and vicious mental cycle, fast.

Wear and tear is normal. We all have good and bad days. I've definitely been more aware of what it all culminates to, however. Yesterday my anxieties around communication left me hangry and irritable. This morning's exchange had a similar flare up. My antidote is blogging, getting lost in work, and many many reminders that low expectations and taking everything as it comes is all I can do.

Sometimes you have to be the alarm for your husband. Sometimes you have to shop with your mom for things for the granddaughter when it is insanely inconvenient for you. Sometimes you have to do extra for a friend, even if they might not return the favor, but because that's just who you are as a friend. It's all within the wear and tear of this thing called LIFE. A dresser might have some chips on it but it still holds the clothes, so it's still functional and essentially fulfilling it's purpose. Perhaps this can be my alliteration for today to push me though. Heck it might even work for you too!

When Your Lot In Life Is To Play "That Bitch"

There's an amazing monologue in the movie "Mean Girls" where Tina Fey starts talking about this "Burn book," where all of the girls in it are called names and she says "Well, I don't know who wrote this book, but you all have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores. It just makes it okay for guys to call you sluts and whores." "Bitches" is in that same category. And yet, "Bitch" has now become slang and as women we kind of took it back as our own.

This isn't really a feminist rant thing but while I wish we could take these common words out of our vernacular and especially out of the mouths of men, I will admit that ever since I was about 12 I realized that even though "bitch" is technically a "swear" or bad word, that if you own it as a strong title of being unafraid or even brave, it seemingly loses it's negative connotation. 

My first experience being "that bitch," was facing off with my mom. I had to stand my ground and there was no room for weakness. This is something I learned with anyone with addiction or substance abuse issues as they can prey on you and attack if you cannot muster the energy to be "that bitch" in most scenarios with them. At least that way my personal experience with it.

Ironically, when you really know me, even when you first meet me, you probably wouldn't get the "bitch" vibe from me. Nor do I try and carry around with me any type of feeling of "If you cross me, you'll be sorry." Regardless, I am often cast the starring role in all productions of being "That bitch."

Sometimes this can serve well, and sometimes it really takes it's toll on me mentally.

I've learned with my mom to accept that with any situation that she disagrees with when it comes to me, it's because I'm "that bitch" in her eyes. There have been a few employers who have brought out that role in me because I'd been backed into a corner and refused to compromise myself or in some cases, my marriage, just because they wanted me to better play the role of "quiet, compliant and does what she's told with a plastic smile."

This whole secondary persona that has followed me, is often quite haunting. Being the "controlling" one, the "planner" the "arranger" and the "mess cleaner upper" aren't "fun" things to do. You win no favors or affections doing these things. Sometimes I wish I could be the person who doesn't care. I wish I could not pay bills without a care or worry. I wish I could just arrive at work late and leave early with no consideration for anyone else. I wish I could go buy what I want, when I want to, but alas, I have other responsibilities.

So wait, has responsibility and adulthood just morphed me into "that bitch?" I was violently shoved into growing up before I was ready, so did that bring me in to my "that bitch" ways? Interesting thoughts on this thoughtful Thursday.

I've said in therapy and owned it over and over that I truly believe I will just always be "that bitch" in the eyes of many close to me. I wish that I wasn't painted into that but:

  

I think what makes me sad sometimes is I feel I rarely have the chance to prove myself otherwise. When you're cast in role early you get typecast, no? Won't Elijah Wood always be Frodo and Matthew Perry will never not be Chandler Bing? Thus, just call me "that Bitch."

I'm not so sure if you screamed that name on the street I'd turn around, but there is a large part of me that owns the fact that part of me is just engraved within my core. I think the people who have known me the longest know it's under there, but have rarely awakened it. There are definitely a few things that bring it out immediately.

When I was a nanny, anyone that was about to harm the kiddos in my care, in any way, shape or form, saw me as "that bitch." I was not putting it out there that I was nice. Sometimes they had friends that I didn't like and with those friends, I was very much "that bitch." When it comes to my friends being hurt or taken advantage of, I will come out swinging if necessary and most recently you can see me do an award-winning performance when it comes to my daughter. I will be your worst enemy if you mistreat her or do anything around the realm of harming her.

There are some things I'm extremely rigid about, but in other ways I think I'm just a big softy. My recent brush with depression and anxiety just reminded me though, that in some villainizing ways, I will always be "that bitch." If it comes to a good cop bad cop thing, I will always be the bad cop.

I'm the "ruiner;" the one that squashes the fun. I'm the rule-keeper and the one with all the budgets, schedules and plans ready to enforce! Some days of this are better than others. I like to think maybe I'm kind of similar to Deadpool, that not-so-super hero comic character. He's lovable but rude, sarcastic and kind of a mess. He is well-intentioned and ultimately saves people but in a very unorthodox and unattractive way more often than not. 

While there is a part of me, and especially after my mental relapse, that wishes the obverse was true, my ability to handle all of the things, plan, create rules, goals and be "that bitch," ultimately serves everyone around me, whether they like it or not. While I know how my controlling tendencies drive my husband insane, I also keep us out of major debt and in good standing with all of the bills we pay on time.

Because of my rigidity with routines and my stick-to-itive-ness on schedules, my daughter seems to be thriving more with the new school year, even if she complains when I take things away and make her do homework and chores. 

And lastly, my being "that bitch," was the beginning of my mother's "rock bottom" that inevitably got her sober so it's hard for me to have regrets. Mostly, right now, I regret the fact that I step into that roll so well and so easily. I regret that the shoe fits, so I wear it.

I've found myself wondering if I had the opportunity to be a little more relaxed and free, who could that be? What would that even be like? For this thoughtful Thursday, while owning my lot in life as "that bitch," a girl can also dream that one day the world would soften her and make her "that fun friend," or that "sweet soul," or even that "big ol' softie." It could come with growth, with age, or just with exhaustion but maybe one day I can retire that roll and master a new one!

The First Day After The Vacay Post

After returning from vacation last night, staying up too late unpacking, unwinding and trying to wrap my head around re-entering routines and reality, I am now settling back and figuring out a decent pace with which to do so and can sit down and write.

Part of me assumed I'd have so many blog post ideas I'd have to figure out which one first, but really, my car ride into work left me feeling wobbly and tired. So here I am grasping at my bearings. 

This trip was a learning experience. I could say they all are, but not so much. I mean I've learned how to pack, I've learned how to stress less but the phases of childhood, adulthood and marriage, are all learning experiences anyway, so throw in a trip and it's like free tuition.

My daughter's practice of picky kid eating was brutal and because I had to plan so delicately for that, not only could I barely practice my mindful eating, but I really couldn't report if I over-ate at all. I had no mindset for it. And if I was hungry and there wasn't food, oh well. I know I drank too much Starbucks, but that is all. I barely snacked and when the opportunity for a real meal came up, I indulged because, hello, vacation.

I learned that being "tough," directive and correct about things doesn't make you any friends. I learned that in the right company you can have your needs met with no argument, but instead with open arms, understanding and gratitude. I learned that family is just family, no matter what.

I think this trip was a complete lesson in practicing what you preach, picking your battles and just taking what you can from what's in front of you. There was rain, sun, tears, smiles, and a lot of compromises. I actually had only one meltdown on vacation and then about an hour into being back home I lost it and screamed aloud in the kitchen.

Some of my favorite parts of our trip were at our most volatile moments in fact. On our flight north, my daughter was completely irate that I had mixed up the terminals and there was no Chik-Fil-A only PDQ and she lost it. I calmly salvaged everything and settled for a Lunch-able, a can of Pringles and Chocolate Milk for dinner. The following morning she ate her weight in sausage at the continental breakfast. She was upset and we were walking around the terminal looking for food. I was talking her down. I kept saying 'The getting there is the worst part and you're allowed to feel all the frustration but we can make it work."

I saw an older motherly-type smile compassionately at me even though my daughter was audibly hating me. When we boarded our flight I said "Okay, please be aware of other people and not to bonk into them and you may pick our seats." The same woman we passed was front and center on our flight, already boarded and she said kindly, "You're doing good mom," to me. That was a great moment for me. I liked kindness and support.

My daughter did well until we were awaiting the shuttle at the hotel. She just lost it and I let her sit on the luggage. There was a sweet flight attendant watching my daughter's meltdown, amused at the display and she said, "You know, I was with my 4 year old at Wal-Mart late one night, getting close to bed time. She was talking back and the cashier said, 'I don't know why kids think they can be bratty just when they're tired.' I about smacked that cashier like, 'She's 4! She's tired! And she's my kid! Kids gotta be kids!'" When I finally loaded her into the shuttle that woman said, "You're doing good mom! You got this!"

Those two moments were just the little pick me up I needed to get me through. There were times when my daughter was just straight mean to me, and miserable because of whatever reason. And I just had to get her to a calm space and rationalize. There were a few times I grabbed her arm in a public place and said "ENOUGH!" More often I just let it slide, why? Because she's a human kid completely out of her normal routine. I weighed the importance of "disciplining" her and just letting her be a bit of a kid, which seemingly only bothered my husband.

I think travelling is just stressful and hard, so making it any worse by being "at" each other doesn't serve much of a purpose in my opinion. I think my daughter did phenomenally well in retrospect but there were times when I wanted to lose it on her, for sure. What mom doesn't have those moments daily and especially in high stress situations.

I've become pretty rational with her lately. I've started saying "Okay here is your issue, here are the options, what choice are you making?" I've coddled her and done what I could to pacify in a few situations but I've also made her toughen up a bit.

Yesterday she was very itchy from some bug bites. We had plenty of cortizone cream. We changed shoes. We tried with and without socks. By the end of the day she was just completely done. She slept so hard on the plane and woke up enraged and ready to get home. When we were in the airport I saw some of the dirty looks from people thinking I was this mom letting her child be "neglected" or "whiny." She wasn't bleeding, she was uncomfortable, it happens. Then I had a guy on the escalator smile after my daughter let out a huge whiny exclaim and he said, "We all feel the way she does, we just aren't letting it out like her!"

At the baggage claim another mom said, "I've had those days. I have a 7 year old and 4 year old. Their dad has been with them all of 4 hours and cannot wait for me to get home. You're doing good." Then an older gentlemen said "They grow up to be better," showed me a picture of his redheaded granddaughter and proudly reported her starting college. Even our ride home was okay with her yelling at me the whole way home. 

Yelling at her about any of it, wouldn't have solved the situation and the same went for the entire trip. My biggest meltdown was mostly quiet and born out of the feeling that no one was grateful for where we were, where we had been and what we were able to see. I felt like up to that point I had compromised my ass off, was being "told how things would go," and I just wasn't having it. 

My meltdown at home was born out of a lot of the same things but for different reasons. I didn't have expectations that my home would be pristine and waiting for me, but I hadn't anticipated or felt it deserved to have extra work in my way of settling back in. The first day back after vacation is always rough because you've had all this time away adventuring and then you're slammed back into routines and schedules, I always just hope that there are things in place to lessen the blow of the transition, rather than amplify. Then again, to practice what I preach boy did I have my low expectations train arrive at a grinding halt at the station!

This trip showed me infinite gratefulness. I felt so well taken care of by the people I love the most. I felt like we were appreciated for taking the time to be around everyone and in more ways than one. I felt so lucky and blessed to have been a part of everything. I felt calm, loved and at ease which I can honestly say hasn't always been the case on trips of the past.

I opened my eyes to a lot through this experience, especially in reference to my daughter and husband. I'm a little tired. I'm a little stressed to get back into things, but I know I'll be okay and things will even out after some time re-adjusting. For now, send coffee and hugs and I'll be getting back on the blogging track as well. Happy Monday!

My Kid And Her Attachment To Routines

My daughter is 6 and a half going on 16. She is a sassy, fierce force and I love her even when she drives me crazy. Not unlike her mother, my kid finds great comfort and stability in her routines and not only do I feel as though this is completely normal, but necessary.

My daughter recently kept saying she was "confused" by her schedule. She can read. She has a calendar and she marks off her days. She's very smart, extremely outspoken and completely sassy. She negotiates A LOT. There is never a simple story or explanation. She talks A LOT. I have to be careful not to cut her off and stifle her and sometimes there is a fine line between disciplining her for not following directions, and let her say her piece.

It came up in conversation that I announced out loud that she is "Just that kid that is very attached to her routines and can have a hard time deviating from them, even when she's having fun, unfortunately." I regret saying that "unfortunately" because it felt like an "I'm sorry" that was unnecessary, which I'm working on doing much less of.

She's an incredibly sweet soul and very passionate about whatever it is she wants to talk about it. Her zen place is in front of any movie or series she can get into. She has just learned to harness the power of chill, quite well in fact.

We keep her busy, but she very much needs to know a layout of her day the night before or the day she wakes up to get a picture of how things will go. She could tell you her weekly school routine to the hour. She can have fun but "going with the flow," is not her forte. 

I try not to tell her, "not to cry" about stuff but rather, "Okay, I'm sorry you're upset, but instead of getting so overwhelmed how about we fix the issue or ask for help?" Sometimes it comes out as "That's not the appropriate response," if I'm on a shorter fuse.

I'm a true mama bear and I think most of the people who know my daughter best realize that she just needs a little more patience and consideration at times. She definitely presses buttons with talking back. She tests her boundaries often, but sometimes when she says these crazy things, I just am so happy she's mine.

I had the sobering realization this week that when you don't know me well, and you don't know my daughter much, she can be tough to deal with, but I actually take this in stride. If you spend an hour with me, and have a real conversation with me, my daughter is a breeze and hilarious. If you're one of my best friends, my daughter is my mini-me and a total trip to be around filled with love and wonder. If you don't really know us though, you're kind of missing out.

She has a lot of traits of my husband, don't get me wrong, but personality-wise our similarities are something else. It was yesterday I realized that I am unapologetic in how I parent, and about who my daughter is, even when she's a handful. Why? Because every teacher, after care leader, care-giver and adult says she does well in the general population, so if she saves her worst behavior for me, and her bad days for me, I'll gladly accept because I'm her mother.

I don't think she's really a handful, but I think she is very reactionary to her surroundings and if things are off the beaten path, or new or difficult or very different, she can have an issue navigating them well. Guess what? Me too.

I've had to train myself to handle things better but she's 6, she hasn't the capacity to do that, yet. One day she'll get there and I'll be right by her side. Yesterday I just realized that, I didn't care if she had a bad day or as my favorite phrase goes, "she's done with life," she's allowed to be a kid with all the feels, temperaments and attitudes so we can learn from each other.

I'm sure there are some ways I'm a mean mom. Much to my horror, I now regurgitate, on a weekly basis minimum, the words of my father, "I don't care if you like it, you'll eat what's put in front of you." This has haunted me and I still do it. Unless I'm deathly allergic, I eat whatever is in front of me, no matter how gross or unwanted. I ate a lot of whole baby mushrooms coated in salt to get me through my study abroad in London because I was so grateful my host mom even cooked for me.

So, when we go to restaurants and she orders for herself, just because it's different than her idea, doesn't mean you don't eat it and you get to sit there and complain. I told her just the other night, "This is why we don't go out to eat." It's not worth the stress and dropping $10 on kid food I will inevitable take with me for lunch at work.

I also don't buy her a bunch of useless junk even if she wants it. The worst parent ever. I don't always say yes. Where am I lenient? Technology. I don't have the energy to go on some soapbox about rotting her brain. Rot on kid, especially if it's a calm escape for you, or it lets you physically rest your non-stop little body.

My kid can be attached to her routines. I LOVE my routines and I don't care how old you are, change is hard. Just because I can take out my stress at the gym or with System of a Down on a car ride home, and she needs to scream about her bath temperature and talk back, doesn't make her beyond some backwards definition of normal. We all have our ways. As her mom, I'm supposed to negotiate those ways and nurture them, and if you don't like it, you don't have to be around us. There's a sorry not sorry for you! 

 

Last Minute Planning Is Now Part Of The Transitional Stages

I'm a self-proclaimed and well known planner. I like to put things on calendars, even months in advance. But with how insane my husband's schedule has been, how little my mom has been able to help, a babysitter who is increasing unavailable, and my desperateness for time away from the norm, I've recently become the master of last minute planning.

You often just have to take things one day at a time, but lately I've been able to plan things with a day's notice or even just a few hours, with much more ease than previous times. I don't think I can blame this one on my growth, but rather a product of circumstance. 

I think right now I'm so aware that things could change on a dime that I'm able to just as well plan on a dime. But I thought about everything going on the past few months, I really took some time to reflect and realized that I'm in such a different place now.

I lost touch with someone who has been there through some of the most chaotic points of my past 3 years, and whom I looked up to. In that acceptance, I've realized it's because my current chaos is new. It's not manic chaos. It's transitional chaos, if you will. And I got this!

Years ago my chaos was seriously harming me. It was impeding many aspects of my life and definitely my mental health, but now I feel like all of my chaos is negotiable. The job change for my husband was not on our current planning scheme, but you really can't plan for life much these days, as things just keep rolling with or without you, so I just sucked it up and figured out how to be supportive.

When boot camp ended it hurt my world, but I did my research and found another outlet. And I love my new gym! It's a welcome challenge that I love and embrace and something I've wanted to get into for such a long time. If I had to lose boot camp, I'm glad I have 9Rounds. 

So since March I've lost boot camp, lost touch with a friend I got used to having around more often, worked hard on myself and my close personal relationships, and watched my husband get promoted to a newer, more responsible job position, immediately yanking him away from normal aspects of family routines.

The job transition has been rough, but I've tried to just take it as it comes. Some days I get irrationally pissed. Other days I feel like I have it all together. I know in the long run, and when things get settled, it will all be for the best.

So going from planning a month in advance with a sitter locked in, to having to wait until the day before or day of, or having to say "Right now it looks like I can make it work, but it could change," has been a hurdle in the transition for me, for sure, but one that I feel okay about. 

It's kept me relatively honest about stuff. With my depression and anxiety I have a hard time communicating with people when it comes to asking them to work with me on what I need to best make social interactions work well. Now I've had to be like, "Look I have every intention of trying to attend but with the hubby's schedule it could not work out that way at all." Or just say "I can come, with or without child, no promises on the whole Chriss fam."

I can see how that may come across flaky and annoying; undependable. But right now it is the reality I'm in. Knowing that it may be perceived that way has been helpful too.

Transitions are rough for me. I think in a sense they are rough for everyone, some just hide it better, but I can have some serious problems with transitions. The last few months have made me work on that, and face it all, ready to defeat it. I'm a work in progress what can I say.

For this Sunday we have taken things as they have come. I have planned a little here and there but nothing too crazy. I'm happy to have some down time but mostly I feel grateful, and really that's what it's all about.

Short Weeks Feel Longer And Throw Off Schedules: #Facts

TGI-Thursday you guys! Okay so I'm not completely used to having Good Friday off, or having paid holidays in general but I am incredibly grateful, I can say that.

This week has felt long, and tomorrow I'm off and the kiddo will be at her aftercare program for the majority of the day, so I will even have time to myself. Regardless, all of the cliches are hitting me with truth this week. "Long days, short years," and all the other ones about short weeks being worse than regular ones, and then other deeper stuff creeps in as well.

So with my schedule in disarray, my emotions in flux, and everything pushing me to just be copacetic and float through muddling, here is where I am: I can't make people communicate the way I might need. I can only put out there all the good vibes and prayers. I try to stay hopeful instead of frustrated or upset, even if I'm awaiting a response that my never come.

Some routines will be disrupted and leave you feeling like you need to be doing more, but if your kid is clothed, fed, clean and happy, maybe a little TV time won't actually kill her, especially as a reward for a good week. I realized I got something I've been pining after for 9 years and it happened organically and magically as it should have, but I'm so impatient I had to take a serious step back to realize I finally got what I asked for, it just took awhile for delivery, so to speak.

Social stuff can be hard and everyone has their boundaries and ways of operating towards one another. Not taking things personally or feeling hurt and ignored, is super difficult for me. I spend a lot of energy talking myself out of being upset over uncontrollable things, but I don't feel silly for that inner dialogue anymore, I feel stronger.

I'm so simple that after a post on Instagram about a rough day, waking up to a text from my best friend while he's been on vacation but took the time to wish me a better day the following morning, totally made me feel seen, heard and helped me have that better day. It's amazing what some encouragement can do.

As a mother and grown woman, it really bothers me when other adults don't have spacial awareness in terms of not crowding one another unnecessarily but also, are insanely loud in a shared room for no apparent reason. This is coming from a notably loud mother. It's a pet peeve, but still, don't we teach our children about "inside voices?" It's still applicable today. 

As per my post yesterday, money stuff sucks for EVERYONE. I saw too many Facebook posts in disagreement about rebuilding Notre Dame and donations made. Any subject of money is just stressful. I had to just log off and get away from all that.

You can't will someone to change, to respond, or to make an effort. You can only put out good vibes into the universe and hope they hit the appropriate people in the appropriate way and boomerang back to you with some semblance of what you might need. Expectations can make ugly emotions and anxieties, even uglier.

Lastly on this random collection of deep thoughts and short week reflections, I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read any of my stuff, even if you dislike or disagree. Some days I stare at a blank post for awhile and feel like I churn out nothing worthwhile. Other days it pours out of me like I was just waiting for the keyboard and screen to be ready for it all. Some days this feels like something on the "to do" list. Other days this is what I'm longing to do. So thank you, each and every reader of every post, for doing this for me. Hopefully it's not on your "to do" list but rather something you can find some entertainment and joy in. 

Happy Friday Eve!