Sunday Is Really Just Monday Eve

I've successfully been a heathen about a month now. I've taken a church hiatus; it happens every so often. Mostly out of exhaustion, but right now I'm just going through some stuff, and while some find solace within church walls, for me it adds to the confusion. So I've just been taking some space.

It can be hard to explain but my daughter and I are similar in our wavelengths when it comes to hitting our social-ness walls. We're so good at planned and routine activities, but every so often we need to just do our own version of way less, and kinda just "be."

I tried to be that mom that planned the play dates and activities this weekend but it was a good lesson for both my daughter and I that, things can turn on a dime. Time to adapt. She had a melt down earlier and it was warranted but I quickly tried for a "Plan B" of sorts and was able to get her back on track. She is now exhausted in front of Netflix.

It's recently been discovered that my comfort zone is just watching TV and that's how I relax. In this day and age if you aren't watching 14 series on all the streaming at once, you're out of the loop. It can feel just as overwhelming as the rest of life. I've found my ways to integrate all the things without compromising too much of myself but it's definitely a balancing act to say the least. 

Sunday has really just become Monday Eve. For me it's all about "before the week kicks off," down time. I'm sure that is the way it was designed and laid out in the bible, but it's funny we seldom find it feasible. I even still have some basic cleaning things I "should do." Knowing me I will push it off until next week because I might end up feeling the weight of things to come.

Sunday in this house is usually the only opportunity we have to choose to "sleep in." For most parents, "sleeping in" is for teenagers and college students. There is always an animal or child that wakes you. For me, sleeping in is waking upon my own volition, meaning without an alarm. Sunday is the only chance I have of that. Every other day is scheduled and regimented. So planning to get up and go on Sunday can cause me a lot of stress, turns out my daughter revealed slightly the same sentiment and today we slept in.

Sunday around 4PM I turn into a pumpkin. It's a countdown to Pajamas. Dinner and bed time is always pretty early and if I can get the dog out for one more round before we all just collapse, I feel accomplished. There is also always laundry and likely a few more chores. But to me it's a count down and at the strike of 8PM all must be quiet on the home front. 

Starting the week off right is huge for me. I feel like it can set the tone. With Sunday as just the day before Monday, it's so important for me to feel capable of starting the routine again. I've had to adapt a lot lately, and so has my daughter and sometimes I feel like I can see, like very visibly see, the wear and tear it has had on us. 

Sometimes, okay often, I feel like a bad mom. When I finally got my home as just mine with my mother in a separate space and my very own first house, I stopped pretending we all had to do everything together. I have a TV in my room, and the living room one is shared among us all but is usually overrun by my daughter. I don't often watch hours of My Little Pony sitting there bored. Mostly I'm doing chores or working on things in my room with something I want to watch in the background. 

I'm just one room away and I just refuse to sit there with her when she doesn't even care. We watch Disney movies together, and I've watched an episode or two of her favorite shows but I let her "binge-on" and enjoy. I feel it's no worse than kids playing hours of iPad and everyone is allowed time to veg out, especially right before the week starts.

On weekdays, she doesn't get any of her own shows. Sometimes we have TV on in the background but she doesn't get to watch any movies or shows of her own. We have set routines and I make sure we follow as much as we can. I'm fully aware that some day sports and such will derail any plan I could have, so I enjoy the calm while I can.

Mondays through Fridays are just so darn busy, and with Sunday and Monday eve it can feel like the calm before the storm. What is the phrase now? "Sunday scaries?" I think that's the scare before the impending week, perhaps but I'm not down with the cool kid lingo so I'm unsure. Sunday is when I feel the most likely to self care. Saturdays are often still packed and busy.

So here we are on Monday Eve. I had the most "Monday-est" Friday there ever was, a productive and fantastic Saturday and Sunday has been outdoor adventures leaving me to sit in my bed and type this while listening to the kids Netflix profile bark from the TV in the living room. I have laundry to fold, dinner to prepare, some spot cleaning to do, and I desperately would love to snag some more down time. 

On this Monday Eve, I say this; self care on a Sunday is tantamount to some of us functioning well from week to week, so tread lightly with those of us that seem more "lazy" on these days. Everyone is on different wavelengths and if you find someone on a similar one to you, vibe with that well, as I've work diligently on with my daughter. Send those check in texts if the week took over and Saturday came and went. Sundays are the perfect time to reboot for the week ahead and it's easier to reach out before Monday sweeps you away.

Lastly, it's okay to not be okay, as one of my favorite people so gently reminded me this week. And taking space in your own way is also okay, just don't live there for too long, this world and your tribe needs you. So happy Monday Eve. May your last hours of the weekend be gentle, and prepare you well for another week!

The Etiquette Of Feelings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First Friends Are The Best Friends

I had just messaged my friend, the one who has known me the longest, since I was just 6 years old, and asked him if I could write a blog about us, and the next day at Publix I come across this cover on Life Magazine. And let me tell you, it could have been us.

I think of this tale as beyond epic so here we go. When I was in Kindergarten I went to some private prep school and met my best friend/ "first boyfriend," also known as Bradley. He was an older one, all of 7 and had red hair just like me. He once told me that when he was in like first grade, next to my picture he wrote that he would marry me some day but then scratched it out in older years. The universe had different plans anyway.

We may have made it a year or two together as inseparable. We had beach trips, sleep overs, camp outs, and endless play dates. We did lots of hand holding and kissing on the cheek, if memory serves. We watched E.T. together and I gave him my E.T. stuffed animal as a gift to my new "boyfriend." I should have dug out pictures of us from when we were beyond adorable.

When his family moved on from having him attend that school and living in that that area, my mom didn't stay in touch. We kind of just faded with nothing but pictures and memories of our childhood adventures. I didn't know if we'd ever speak again, let alone what would happen 17 years later.

See, this was back in the day before Facebook, MySpace, and Google took over so you could find ANYONE. All you had was old mailing addresses or a phone book to track people down. I can't tell you how many times he crossed my mind but I never would have thought he'd remember me.

In about 2002ish, Bradley had tracked down my dad's phone number in Oregon but admitted he was too afraid and intimidated to call. Knowing my dad he would have been rude at first and then relieved it wasn't some 20 year old boyfriend looking for me, and instead an old friend.

In 2009, when my husband and I joined Facebook, in the MOST unlikely of ways, Bradley found me, and this happened as soon as we moved to Florida. Bradley had been searching for me under my maiden name, my dad's last name, and tracked down my niece on Facebook, because on Facebook I've always had hubby's name. My maiden name, Lodjic, was pretty darn rare. He messaged her asking if she knew of me at all and she responded saying, "That's my aunt, she just got married, here is her Facebook name."

And that was it, the boy who knew me the longest and had been looking for me, finally found me when I was just 24 years old, after not speaking since we were maybe, 7 and 8? It was completely astounding.

Bradley was kicking ass in the Airforce when we reconnected. We spoke via the magic of the internet A LOT. We did IM and Facebook, I called him as much as I could. We emailed. We stayed up hours talking about everything. He remembered my family before everything turned sour and he remembered things my trauma had blocked out. I knew him before his personal family stuff and there was a sense of home and familiarity that never left us.

My husband never seemed to be phased by the interaction but perhaps because there has always been an ocean between us. Bradley asked me all about my husband and what I was up to. He read all my poems and blogs. He told me all about his then ex-girlfriend, now wife, and how he knew she was the one. We left no stone unturned in conversation. We picked up immediately as best friends, like we'd never missed a day, let alone close to two decades. It was weird, but completely natural and normal all at the same time.

Ten years ago Bradley Facebooked his way back into my life, and I can honestly say, I couldn't have gotten through that decade without him. There is not a doubt in my mind that he found me because he was meant to be a true friend, a comfort and support that I needed. He is someone from my roots, to keep me rooted. Now, let me elaborate.

Bradley has heard me complain and cry about everything. He calls me out when I'm being unfair in my perspective with my personal relationships and totally has my back when it comes to parenthood and all the ways of me being all that is Alison. When he married his gorgeous wife, I thought he might fade away because you know, life, but we check in often and they happen have a beautiful daughter a year older than Luna. She and Luna are the same age difference as Bradley and I. I desperately want them to meet someday!

Okay back to some history. When I told Bradley why I disappeared from life and reconnecting and he told me about everything he'd gone through, there was no judgement, from either of us. It was the same little boy that held my hand when I got freaked out watching E.T. He was just an amazing friend. And still is.

In March of 2016 for an Airforce training something or other Bradley traveled to Melbourne, Florida. This is only 3 hours away from us. He wanted to meet us all. We hadn't seen each other in 25 years! And we were planning on reconnecting finally. 

My husband had to work so I packed up Luna and we went to Melbourne. We decided to hit the zoo. As a father missing his daughter, he immediately befriended Luna and what was both so strange and perfect, was how watching him with her made me remember more of our childhood together. He was silly and hilarious and all about her. He even got her to try her first snow cone. It was the perfect day, like in Tangled, "Best DAY EVER!"

I know that men and women aren't supposed to be friends. There will be people waiting for me to declare some kind of romantic love but it's the opposite. He's like my brother. He has talked me through some of my darkest moments. He has asked me to help him with some of his perspectives on parenting, marriage and life in general, and of course I harass him for the same. 

We've gone weeks without chatting much but we always check in and keep tabs on one another. When we got in the car accident he was living in Hawaii. When he saw the stuff on Facebook he messaged me in concern. I had just settled down at 11PM at night after an 8:30AM accident and worst day ever, and I just couldn't sleep. My husband was in a separate hospital and all I could do was lay my bloodied head down and try not to cry. 

I remember when he messaged me just mentally collapsing and Bradley calming me down over Facebook messenger because I told him I couldn't rest and was cold, and shaking, upset. I was sore, bruised, and uncomfortable while watching Luna sleep. He told me I was in shock and probably had some intense PTSD. He said that I should be in shock and needed to be gentle on myself. From thousands upon thousands of miles away, he calmed me down enough to get some rest.

These are the seemingly simple moments that confirm he's meant to be like an older brother to protect me from afar. I know this because when I've told him my worst attributes, my most regrettable acts, and all the bad with the good, he's never been mad at me or told me to go away. He's also kept me strong and fighting, never letting me give up on myself or my life.

Don't get me wrong, I have women friends who are my life blood, but there's something about the story of Bradley and I that is just too...stupendous to act like it doesn't bear meaning and purpose. He did give me permission to wax on about this and make this a big deal because...I mean look at that history. Nothing short of epic.

And maybe we won't be around each other in the way that we are now, forever, but I like to think that Luna and his daughter will meet and create the same kind of bond that will outlast our lifetimes. His daughter even inherited E.T! I'll have to report back on that chapter though. I better message him that I actually published this thing though...

Valentine's Day In Motherhood

Valentine's day used to be one of those holidays girls wrapped all their hopes and dreams into. I for one much prefer Galentine's Day lately. But here's why today rocked. There were no super surprises. No flowers, diamonds or over the top luxuries. But today was my daughter's Kindergarten Grandparent's/Valentine's Day show. And it was amazing.

My husband and I did the normal card exchange but because of the afternoon show, and it being my dad's last day in town, we snuck a lunch with my dad in tow, before the big production. Then off to the show we went!

My daughter had been threatening to not sing. Boy did she mean business! She paid close attention. She focused on her teachers and the commands. She knew every hand gesture and pantomime. She did not sing. Stone-faced she stood there. And occasionally smiled and waved at us. She had this adorable and ridiculous embarrassed grin. I loved it.

In other news for today I was able to leave work early and now have my dad doing finishing touches in my daughter's room for her many requests and I'm relaxing in the quiet before the rest of the day unfolds. I'm still full from lunch.

Today I got to be a real, live Valentine's day mom. I got Luna the card. Hubby got her the chocolates. I was at the school event with the other grandparents and parents, on time and ready to watch it. I smiled and waved and sang all the words. I blew kisses and laughed and loved watching her in action. I didn't even cry!

Valentine's Day used to be a huge thing for hubby and I, but since he's been a chef, he always works tonight. They are fully booked with reservations the next 3 nights. I for one am happy going to bed early with my little love happy in a chocolate coma in the next room and ready to send my dad back to Oregon with a great trip in the books.

But as a mom, I always feel like I'm lacking. Maybe all moms feel that in one way or another but I always feel bad being that working mom. I don't take time off for every little thing so that when days like today come along I can be there and pay attention.

I saw all the adorable Facebook posts of love. I've seen all the Instagram posts of love as well. And it was funny because where I used to make sure to loathe all of it and feel so very inferior and less than, this year I'm generally happy for everyone who is making the most out of this holiday. I even saw a "Friendaversary" of today on Facebook with a guy and his girlfriend of about one year. YAY! How cute is that?

And I know that for some single people today blows. It can feel super triggery and overwhelming, but let me just say, us married people don't have it all together either. Essentially it's just another day. But, if you can find some love and some big red hearts out there for today, Valentine's day can be less "Bleh," which I know some of you have felt.

For me it wasn't romantic love at all, but motherhood and being a part of something seemingly mundane and boring that meant everything. Perhaps you can find something like that too. Happy Valentine's Day readers!!

Checking In And Ghosting - Modern Technological Hurdles

Recently I had a good friend of mine thank me for checking in and checking up on her. I never have the resources to send Edible Arrangements, flowers, or just buy groceries and make casseroles but one thing I can do? Check in.

It's not always or even necessary to have a long conversation but more a way to say "Hey, I'm thinking about you and I'm a text away." In this busy and fast paced world, those little texts can get you through a whirlwind of negativity.

This is one hurdle I've managed to jump over a few times. I have a good friend I've had to discuss this delicately with and I gotta tell you those texts that say "Hey I've been really busy but I just wanted to say hi and wish you a good weekend," keep me smiling during the days when we're not able to catch up.

But I think we get so frustrating because of this whole new "ghosting" thing. To my understanding ghosting is when someone completely drops out of or disappears from contact with you, no explanation but possibly still exists actively on social media. Sometimes I miss the days where if someone didn't call you back, there weren't 8000 avenues to keep tabs on them and you could easily shrug off with a "They must be busy or out." Today our anxious, overthinking minds tend to assume the worst.

To me, the ghosting thing feels hurtful because, I'd rather you tell me in any way shape or form, "I'm not wanting to deal with you right now, but when I can find room for you, I will reach out." Always just say "Hey, I'm busy not ignoring you or not avoiding you." There are too many Pinterest memes to rile us up when we are feeling inferior or "not essential" to the business in friends, family and significant others' lives like "No response is still a response," and "If they want to talk to you, the will make time for you, not excuses," and so on and so forth.

For me, when I "fall off the grid," I don't see text messages because I was messing around on my phone doing something else and then forgot someone text me. Or I'm wanting to answer something and the kid or dog or husband interrupts and 10 hours later I realize I never responded. But I never mean to just stop all contact with people. No matter how small the "check in" is, I make an effort to do so.

I do this, because I would want the same from my friends. These are hard times people. With all the communication and technological advances, we still lose friends and grow apart. The people you used to text every day become an Instagram story or a Facebook update. The people you once planned entire weekend plans with are now posting adventures you could never go with them on, and are living their "best life" with you as a spectator.

Now I wrote recently about being called out as a hater on these types of things but I'll tell you what it is: I was hurt. Often we invest so much time and energy into these relationships of any kind, and when they fizzle, we feel that loss. And it's weird to be grieving someone still alive.

We live in a world where because we're "Facebook Friends" and "Instagram Followers" we "stay in touch." My husband always gives me a hard time about being "a texter." But I like to reach out with a text! You have no idea how many times I text people "Sorry I suck at communication but I love you! Hope you're well," or "Tell me how you are!"

I think I've been successfully ghosted once for about 9 months until the return of "the entity" and once I was "ghosted" or put off for about 2 weeks and then I confronted the issue and we made a peace treaty haha.

I often want to recoil from communication, social media and any kind of social gathering when I'm at my worst with life things. I have a pretty strong guard up when it comes to sharing because you never know how people will receive it and too often I've felt like I finally unloaded my dump truck of life and emotions to only feel that yucky "judgment" feeling from others, or be told how to "better" live my life. It's a hard line to walk.

I check in because I am there for my friends. My family life can often feel wobbly so I have heavily relied on my friends to be my compass. And I put everything into my friendships that I possibly can. And on that note, when you don't hear from me, it has nothing to do with lack of love or lack of desire to have you in my life. It's the opposite for me, if I'm quiet, I just don't know how to handle what's happening to me personally, am unsure how to tell you about it, and afraid that I can't support your friendship well enough, so I fear to let you down. Yes, that is my thought process!

I hope with all the technology, one day we get better with the way we communicate. There is so much heartbreak and anxious, depressive misery with text interpretation or unanswered questions and feelings. Perhaps that's why the "Good morning," "Good night," and "Have a good day," or "I'll be thinking of you," texts just make things so much better and nicer.

So check in this weekend, no not on Facebook, just with each other. Send a silly meme. Text a nice sentence of support. Check in and don't be a ghost. We can haunt people later. Enjoy the weekend readers and thanks again for your feedback!

What's With Today, Today?

It's been a weird day for me, I'm just going to put it all on the blog. Not in a bitter way, but, more than just a case of the Mondays, it's just been such a weird day.

So I hit up boot camp of course but then re-routed my routine a bit for getting ready for work, which was totally for the better, but between texting and catching up with people from the weekend and just some mental heaviness, I just feel like "What's with today, today?"

I've started and stopped writing about ten different times, trying not to wax on about a diatribe, just trying to think things out. I'm not sure I have any conclusions.

Today I'm consumed with adulting, trying to plan finances, trips, life, and appointments. Today I'm talking to friends about real things and having strangely deep conversations while I'm at work and it's slow. Today I feel tired.

We had a big weekend, no doubt but sometime all those exterior things in life just catch up don't they?

I'm the type of person who feels like I can carry my weight and then one day I have to have all the feels and maybe a sad day; a watch Steel Magnolias and cry kind of day. I don't care who you are, if you can watch Steel Magnolias without balling, you have no soul, just a side note.

And I don't necessarily feel sad today but I feel a little "wobbly" which is my new favorite word. I have my dad in town and my husband making some waves of change and my daughter just turned six. Am I allowed to wobble right now?

I remember a few years ago after I did my first Savage Race it was this huge wave of emotions. You work hard for months getting ready, you go through this 7ish mile thing, your body hates you, everyone is proud of you and you just return to decompress. For me, my friend had my daughter and my husband was going to unpack our house after we'd just moved. It was not at all what I expected. Not even close. And then I got quite ill from all the exertion and such and was in a haze until I hate something real.

It was two days after I was getting ready for work when I had the stove on for coffee and I was just so, done feeling. I didn't hear it boiling over and was trying to handle the baby and not completely awake and my husband was like "Whoa, what's going on!?" It was then I just realized after such and intense weekend that my mind and body were just kind of defeated. And I think there may be a hint of that in the air today.

Having my dad back down here 6 years after he was here for the birth of his granddaughter and watching this huge pile of sass take on the world is just something else. Not to mention normal growing pains. And I mean that for her, and for us as a family.

I've been pretty open about coming out of a rough rough area recently, which I'm sure will be better explained in future posts. We still have 10 months of this people. But watching the growth and being supportive but cautiously optimistic can take a lot out of you. And it's very much a delicate subject for anyone going through major life challenges and trials, and still taking everything that one step at a time, one day at a time.

Life is such an emotional rollercoaster that I think on days like today when you're met with this weird "low" you just kind of bottom out and wait for the next phase. I'm back to work today with more fun planned tomorrow just trying to keep my head above water and stay positive. I'm hoping to find some much better inspiration but feel free to suggest away! Happy Monday!

One Month In And Tonight I Barely Made It

I'm a month into my year of posting successfully! I'm pretty proud of myself right now, if I may say so. And tonight I really just want to go to bed, but we had a big epic day. So I shall recap for my readers.

This morning was super Saturday filled with Birthday fun. My dad is in town, Luna had horseback riding lessons, her birthday party and a birthday dinner with our closest family. We did it!

Horseback riding was amazing. She did so well, like, you can see all my money going to a fantastic place. She listened so well and earned a cupcake!

She had some down time after with a real lunch and then I did some errands and picked up the my little pony cake. She put on her fancy dress and let down her hair and we were off.

The birthday party was at the bowling alley. Nine children bowling was the most hilarious thing ever. What gorgeous chaos. So wonderful to watch and take in. After pizza and cake we hit the arcade. Then we gave out party favors and came home. 

We brought a little friend home with her to play. This was my best idea ever because she immediately had fun that didn't involve us getting ready for company. It was time to get ready to host dinner. And my husband was making my favorite: tacos.

Whenever we have company he cooks for like 100, never for the number we will actually have. We also are never on time. Whenever I tell someone to come over, I think we'll eat within 30 minutes of arrival. It's almost always over an hour. 

We ate tacos, more cake and we visited with what we consider our Florida family. After this day I feel exhausted and blessed. We had all of our favorite kiddos with their parents there to celebrate the big 6. We had family over to visit and celebrate this growing child of mine.

Now it's crawling towards 10PM and I just want to crawl into my bed. So thank you all for a first wonderful month of my journey. Tomorrow I will have the capacity to enjoy more writing, probably during the Superbowl and after cake and wine, this tired mama will be heading to bed soon. Until tomorrow readers! 

Play Dates: A Mom's Best Friend

My daughter and a neighborhood friend are currently in a fort play-dating it up and this is amazing because I'm able to write, or watch a movie, fold laundry and breathe. Play dates, in my humble opinion, can be a mother's best friend.

Play dates with kids under one, are more for the mothers to just interact and we kind of just watch the little ones roll around and steal each other's toys. Once kids hit about 3, you relish the time when another little friend helps them expel some energy and entertains them. Now at almost-6, you just need a body in the house and less of the planned activities. They entertain each other effortlessly now.

You may have to referee a few fights or disagreements but other than that, it's a dream. Now, don't get me wrong, I interact with my little one all the time. We do crafts and go see movies and do all the things, but lately I've been so tired by the time I hit Sunday, I like to instill some chill time. For me, TV and movies have always been my comfortable zone out and relax mechanisms. Now, I've watched all the Disney movies about a thousand times, so I usually retreat to my bedroom and binge on Friends, the Office or Parks and Rec, and generally it's something that Luna can watch without picking up on any inappropriate jokes.

I'm always a room away and I make sure she has all snack needs met, but I like for her to have some independence. Plus, it lets her watch what she wants, like My Little Pony or Daniel Tiger. She tells me all of the details of the shows anyway, so it's like I'm watching them and she gets her own "me time."

When we have play dates, I make these technology free times. You have someone to interact with, you don't need a tablet or TV. Occasionally they indulge in a movie but mostly it's all about play. I like to set up painting time or chalk adventures or games but I definitely encourage them to use their imaginations and come up with things on their own.

As an only child I was fiercely independent and I've tried to raise Luna the same way. She can get along in the company of grown ups as well as she can with kids of all ages. And I'm super proud of her for being that way, because when she needs to take a few minutes away from being social, she can come sit by me and just be her wonderful self for a moment.

I have had circumstances where I've watched her have a rough time with kids who weren't so very nice to her and it's hard to not get overly "Mama Bear" on them. I kind of walk on egg shells when it comes to disciplining other kids when the other parent isn't present. Most of the time the play dates for the kids do include mom play dates for me, but there are times when they bounce between houses in the neighborhood and I'm the one overseeing the interaction. 

I've heard the little ones not really meshing well and sometimes I think it's harder for me than it is for my daughter. She seems so resilient at times and I'm the one getting annoyed that someone isn't being nice to my little one. And I know kids have phases and disagreements and such but I hate when I see one being just generally mean. 

I have stepped in and limited Luna's contact with the offenders from time to time, especially when I see them leaving her in a haze of negativity. But, mostly I let her navigate her friendships and play dates on her own. Because these are the times for her to figure things out more and more on her own, and with less and less of my help. This is the sad truth of growing up.

Most often, play dates make everything better. They give Luna the interaction and energy burn she needs, and gives me time to be productive or catch up with other moms and socialize myself. I tend to be a recluse at times and just want to be lazy and hole up at home. Play dates make me get us out there more! It's a win win!

I'm interested to see how these things evolve. I'm interested to see how things go when sleepovers, drop off parties and events happen. I'm always so attached to being around her and unless she's with my husband or a babysitter, I am the one that is there the most. Letting her be more independent is a test on me as well. We'll see if I make the grade in about another 20 years when she finds her first therapist. For now, play on little one. I have a laundry list of, well laundry and such to do!

4th Grade 4-Eyed Dreams Can Come True

I'm getting more and more insight into what a little girl's world really is through my daughter, but I have a few memories of my own. I don't remember being too into clothes. I was definitely an extremely late bloomer and I just loved to wear matching things. In fact, mis-match day at school was always a challenge for me.

My mom dressed me in Laura Ashley, Osh Kosh and as many brand names as possible but I don't remember much beyond fluffy dresses and Easter hats. I didn't get manicures or have lots of accessories. One thing I really wanted when I was in 4th grade though, was glasses.

Both of my parents had glasses. One of them was near-sighted, one of them was far-sighted, and I was like "Okay, so when do I get my glasses?" I'd always tested fine for vision but when I complained of frequent headaches they thought maybe it was time.

So off to the eye doctor we go and I have perfect vision. I was super bummed. I felt really ordinary with the exception of the bright red hair. There was another redhead in my class too and she had glasses. My best friend had glasses. I was so lame without them, right? Oh and the headaches were from my mom letting me drink iced tea every morning...not the best choice. 

So I went on to grow for years and years with no glasses and normal vision. I've never really had any problems so I just went on to function with regular eye balls and exist in the glasses-less sector of society.

It's taken a long time for the Chriss fam to get it together, but we now have normal luxuries like insurance and dental and vision coverage. My husband has glasses and he's used all of the things around it, but I realized I had never used my benefits. Now that I have a job where I'm able to have doctor's appointments and run of the mill life happenings without losing hours or suffering in some other way, I decided to adult up and get my eye exam.

So the dilation thing is maddening. Everything was so blurry and disorienting. The eye puff thing had me exactly like Rachel on Friends, you know which one I'm talking about. And then I found out I needed a light prescription. I was ridiculously excited. 

The Eye doctor said one time a girl desperately wanted glasses and she had to say no and she left in tears. She had wished someone would have told her so she could have phrased it differently for the little one, but she was happy I wasn't upset about them.

So then I went frame shopping. The next day because being all blurry I was not trying to shop for something to live on my face for the rest of my days. My budget was small because I'm "thrifty" (not cheap lol). So I found some frames I really really loved and now just had to be patient for two weeks. No problem.

When my glasses came I ran over there. Finally! I put them on. New year, new me! Yeah! I loved them but oh my did they mess with my depth perception...badly. The sidewalk looked like it was up to my stomach. It was so weird.

My husband assured me there was an adjustment period. Then the first weekend they moved around on my face a lot. I couldn't tell if I was being high maintenance or if they needed an adjustment. My husband said while glasses move, they shouldn't quite that much. I still wore them because this was my 4th grade dream, coming true and right before my 34th birthday! 

So, I finally went to get the adjustment and they are worlds better. When my daughter first saw them somehow she was taken aback like, "Do you have to wear those to bed?" Even though my husband has worn glasses, oh, always. Mostly I got the response "cute," or worse...the people I wanted to notice didn't and the people I would have never expected to notice now wanted to talk about my new accessory.

I'm still getting used to them over-all. This week they are making me sleepy. But there is this huge part of me that feels kind of awesome that my 4th grade dream, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, actually has come true. I think we all have these kid moments of wanting things to make us stand out but also fit in and as we get older we care less and less, but it's kind of fun to know now, not only am I able to see better, but I kind of knocked a weird kid goal off of my list.

My daughter has cool goals like going to Paris and getting a Golden Retriever puppy, which I fully support. She loves to mis-match clothes and hates to match actually. I refer to her as a tiny tourist as you'll often see her in prints and prints or stripes and polka dots. She just found jewelry and is hesitant to fit into the lost tooth trend out of fear it will hurt. While she's fiercely independent she has conformed into the Shopkins obsession, My Little Ponies, the world of Legos and Roblox. I love watching her phases though.

When she has goals like glasses and braces though, I fully intend to let her know that she might have to wait until she's grown, but usually these things are totally achievable. I plan on explaining this while on a plane full of Golden Retrievers on our way to Paris of course. 

The Dollhouse Diatribe: "Sleep Training" Gone Wrong

Disclaimer: it may be best if this information never reaches my eldest sister but it's the internet. Anything is possible.

So when I was 5 years old my mom bought me a Playmobil Victorian Dollhouse. It was apparently the coolest of the Playmobil collection and could come with up to 3 floors plus attic. Of course, I had the 4 story Victorian Dollhouse with all of the accessories. Both of my half sisters came home from college and were conned into helping put this thing together.

Playmobil was a kind of more girly version of Legos, in my opinion. As an 80's kid I remember Legos being very much marketed towards boys. My little boy cousins had everything Lego and I lived in a world of Playmobil. I recall having the dollhouse, the circus (which may or may not be in possession of my youngest cousin still) and the zoo.

So the Victorian Dollhouse (seriously, google it) had so many pieces and was all assembly required. We are talking curtains, wallpaper, window inserts that open and shut, fencing, porch additions, and the ones my sisters still mention, flowers in window boxes, on every window on three full floors. All of this they did on Christmas Eve decades ago.

When my parents split when I was 16, my dad packed up the dollhouse, intact. When it got shipped to me, it wasn't in the very best shape with some broken pieces but all easily glue-able and still fully functional. I took it apart and packed it properly in all kinds of bubble wrap. 

The Dollhouse followed me from Pennsylvania to Delray Beach, Florida, to 7 different addresses in Eugene, Oregon to 4 different addresses in the Tampa Bay area. While at address number 3 of four in Tampa Bay, 1 of 2 in Safety Harbor, my sister flew down 3 Christmases ago when Luna was about to be 3 to help me put together the Dollhouse for her all over again. Because my sister was here, my husband was able to just hang with my brother-in-law with no dollhouse responsibility.

As we had some wine and I annoyingly sang "Do you wanna build a dollhouse?" in the tune of the Frozen hit, "Do you wanna build a snowman?," we got it done on Christmas Eve. Luna liked the dollhouse but was still pretty young. This was one of those cases when I just couldn't wait for her to have it.

Fast forward to a new house and the dollhouse came intact just before she turned 4. My mom moved into our new grown up house with us and it was the first time my daughter had had her own big kid room. She had co-slept with us (see car accident posts) much later than I had ever imagined but I just thought she needed a room that was her haven.

She seemed to be okay with some snuggles and didn't have any potty issues at night, but then started having crazy nightmares that made her scared of her dream. She ended up in our bed and driving us all crazy for so long, me most. It was ugly. I was not getting sleep, so much that I literally asked friends if I could come to their homes to nap. They all thought I was being silly, sarcastic Alison. No seriously, I just wanted uninterrupted sleep. We were way past infancy. This was not okay.

You know how you make all these decisions based on "I'd never do that with MY kid?" Well, hear comes one to rear it's ugly head. Much like I said a dog would never sleep in bed with us and our pug is like an extra pillow, I maintained that Luna would sleep in her crib and her own bed, even if it was in or very close to our room. 

By nine exhausting months, 4 of me working 12AM to 6AM from home for HSN, we were fully co-sleeping. I was so exhausted of the "Isn't she sleeping through the night by now?," commentary that made the mom shame almost as heavy as my eyelids. The kid took her place in the bed and didn't leave for years. In fact, I was making her a big kid room at our old place when we got in the car accident and with her recovery, left her another 3 months of HAVING to sleep next to me as she was in casts. 

Back to age almost 4 and I'm discussing my sleeplessness with everyone and none of my tricks or bribery or anything are working. I'm starting to suffer in more ways than one when finally a close friend and mother of two, and by far the sweetest, most calm and patient mother told me that they had gone through the same thing with their daughter, also calm, quiet and polite, and they had to sleep train her by reversing the lock on the door and locking her in there for about a week. "The first nights are the worst. I had to wear headphones because of the crying," she admitted.

I was in shock and awe and I thought, "I could never do that...could I?" Finally, with my mom going out of town for the night and my husband working with no possible return until at least 3AM, I planned for the lock in. I had to. I couldn't take it anymore.

So, alone, on a weeknight I planned it. It did not go well. Luna was screaming so loud and crying and screaming I was actually afraid that, being so new to the neighborhood, I might get the cops called on me for child abuse because she was loud, much like her mother. It was HORRIFIC. 

She screamed for a good 30 minutes and then the destruction began. I heard things being hurled at the door. First small things like stuffed animals and books. But then I heard what sounded like heaps of plastic. I wanted to rush in there but I couldn't cave! I had to stay strong.

The kicking and screaming subsided a bit and I knew she was still in there awake so I went to check. It looked like a hurricane hit and she had taken the dollhouse apart in pieces and chucked it at her locked door. The mama bear, hurt child who saw a precious toy that I saved and shared in pieces all over the floor of the house I worked so hard to get turned me into a MOMster. 

Somehow I didn't unleash any unfavorable words I just kept yelling in some kind of loud but even tone: "This is not okay, unacceptable behavior. This was a very very bad choice and this is not okay. You broke the dollhouse! You broke this from mommy and it was mommy's and you broke my heart! You heart mommy's feelings!" 

I picked up the dollhouse pieces only and put them in bags and boxes, like shattered wreckage from the destruction, and locked her back in. If I recall I had a couple glasses of wine. Alone and tired and filled with tears we both gave up in our own rooms. That was the only night we ever had to lock her in and it was BRUTAL, especially alone.

The dollhouse stayed dormant and resting for 2 Christmases until it's resurrection this past holiday. After everything my sister did for me and that dollhouse TWICE, I never had the heart to tell her Luna destroyed it. When I told my best friend she told me that she gave her youngest her American Girl doll too young and her little one covered her doll's entire face in "T's" to mark her territory and she learned to be very careful in sharing too quick because if they aren't quite old enough, they can't truly appreciate the gravity of the gift.

Side note, I have 2 American Girl Dolls awaiting Luna. She may not get them until she's 20. But, she did get the dollhouse again this past year. It was my 2nd time assembling and my husband's first. He learned quickly this was no small feat.

This time it is different. She loves it and appreciates that it was mine and how special it is. That poor dollhouse definitely won't survive her, or it may very carefully but it has seen a lot. As far as sleep training? I hate that phrase and sometimes hate that I ever did that, but I think she's better for it. She still visits us nightly but it is worlds better now. We also still have the locks switched to keep her in and that's always a fun threat...I would take the dollhouse out first though if it came to it again. Plus then I could play without her rules!

Motherhood Can Feel Lonely...And It Really Shouldn't

Last year I had a casual conversation with a fellow mom at church who had just had her second baby. We were talking about normal things in terms of infancy and how she had forgotten some things between her first who was then 4, and her second one. Wherever we ended up in the conversation I said to her, "And it can feel so lonely," and without hesitation her retort was, "Yes, I know! It CAN feel lonely!"

I felt a connection with her since then but later upon reflection my heart sank. There are literally millions upon millions of women who are mothers on this planet. There are even some fathers who end up being motherly! We shouldn't feel lonely, and the fact that we have those moments, breaks my heart. 

We're in a sensitive society right now I feel. I respect all opinions, but when playground talk turns into politics, personal beliefs, whether religious or otherwise, and parenting methods, things can get ugly, and fast.

One of my longest and physically closest mom friends and I began our friendship based on the fact that I didn't judge her as a parent and she returned the favor. I witnessed some pretty harsh mom on mom stuff at a birthday party last year that has forever been branded into me and what I want to say is this: You never know where someone else is in their life, their journey or their state of mind and judgmental words and commentary can hurt. I wish we could all just be patient and be kind. It's not your responsibility to parent the world.

Now, granted, if another child physically harms mine, the mama bear can come out but as a whole I try and teach Luna to just think "Well maybe he had a bad day or things are tough at home, we don't know. You use your words and express your feelings and let him feel his." Or hers.

I don't care who you are, and if you've never seen Bad Moms, watch it immediately because it posits some serious truths that support that motherhood and parenting is hard. We shouldn't be AGAINST each other. Often my mom friend and I that live judgment free hit the park with our kiddos and when we see other little ones being scolded for the same things we scold for or acting the same way ours do at their moms we joke, "Oh good, it's not just us!" See? We're NOT alone.

I know we use so much of our patience on our tiny humans that sharing that with the rest of the world is often difficult but I've worked so hard on becoming less judgmental in general but especially when it comes to other moms. Now the birthday party scene that scarred me, was an instant of watching other unfair judgment and my not knowing how to handle it but by being especially kind to the mom victim and her little one. She handled it much better than I could have, in my humble opinion.

It's funny because years ago when I was deep into some of the darkest places of my life with work, family, marriage and what felt like everything, I was called out for my judgment and being a "hater." What it really was, now that I look back, was a "Comparison Hangover," which Kristen Bell has explained on her husband's podcast, ArmChair Expert, to be when you get stuck in the social media and life haze of watching everyone else and judging them and yourself based on what their lives and experience look like, or that's what I got from it.

And, as a mom, hangovers of any kind are so much worse than they were before baby. Side note, Kristen Bell is a gorgeous mental health advocate, wonderful mother, great actress and I want to meet her someday and have lunch. I digress, and once I stopped thinking in terms of comparison, of "She's a better mom, she's a smarter mom, or a kinder mom," and started thinking "She makes great lunches and dresses them so cute! She has a great job and must balance a lot! She doesn't even raise her voice and her kids respond so well!' 

It's been a process. It IS a process but my aim is to be welcoming so that no mother that crosses my path, feels alone. I hated those feelings. Especially early on. Between postpartum and all the new mom stuff, feeling so alone is just so hurtful and I wish I had been kinder to myself and been more comfortable admitting, "Hey I'm lonely and I really would love some help here."

Moreover, I think each mom can teach me something and we all have so much to learn! I remember when a mom at my boot camp heard me complaining about Luna's cold and said "Vapor rub on the feet with socks on and run a hot shower when she's at her worst and sit with her in then." My mind was blown and we became friends after that! 

With all of this said, I will also advocate the importance of taking a step back if you feel judge or feel like you're just in a "judgey" place. We all have those moments. We're mothers, we're supposed to be imperfect. Why do you think Mary Poppins is a fictional character and just a nanny? No one can be "Practically Perfect in every way!"

Finding your boundaries and setting them can feel just as daunting as being open to all these suggestions but they are just suggestions. This is coming from 5 rough, ROUGH personal years of motherhood and womanhood, so I just want to impart what I have learned because if there is just ONE reader who can get something from this? Mission accomplished!

Blog Challenge Wrap Up

I would call this challenge a success and I still have about six technical entries left in order to call it complete. After the response to my music post of favorite songs, and sharing something uncomfortable, I think some of the last few parts of the challenge are a little unnecessary.

One of them is about my best physical features and to quote the great Kristen Bell, whom I look up to and adore, I don't want to indulge in "a comparison hangover." I also think that physical features are subjective. I once had a crush tell me that my nose and my ass on my best friend's body would be "one banging ass chick." So my only good features are my nose and my butt? Recently I had someone else tell me it was my smile. Doesn't it depend on who you're talking to? And why indulge in more judgement when the world is already so judgmental?

Another challenge was to list favorite blogs. As a blog writer I'm quite the "faker" because I don't read many blogs. I don't have much free time and it's really hard for me to want to read on the computer when I write, edit, post and spreadsheet all day. I'll catch a book or article from time to time but I'm a super slow reader also.

The 27th challenge is what makes me feel better, always. Kid cuddles or dog cuddles are number one but also a good movie, and a good cry. In desperate times I need Ben and Jerry's or Cold Stone. When things are really bad I need junk food like Doritos and Buffalo Chicken Dip.

The 28th challenge was to write about the last time I cried. I'm a frustrated crier so I probably shed a tear or two every other day honestly. I often feel so overwhelmed by the stress, anxiety and should-do's and can't do's that I just can't contain the frustration and it comes out of my eye ducts. I take on so much mentally, much of my own overthinking and anxious fretting for sure, but it still affects me to the point of tears. These are like cry for a minute then suck it up moments though. I was trained to never let them see you down!

The 29th was the top things on my bucket list which would be visiting New Zealand and another European Trip, this one with my daughter. I studied in Europe nearly 11 years ago and I had the time of my life. I wanted to live there. I cannot wait to take my daughter when she's like 16 or something. And New Zealand? I need the Shire and hiking yesterday!

The 30th challenge was comfort foods? See what makes me feel better, always. It kind of all goes together and doesn't require much of a post.

The last challenge was to be about my weird quirks. Oh my...there's the weird way my brain works for control and routines, the ability to maintain controlled chaos and the strange ways I have to adjust social media stuff to make it less...negative for myself. I have a lot. Let's do this, why don't you come chat with me and pick out some. That's not judgey right? Ha! We all have weirdness, some of us are just better at showing it.

I plan on writing about one more revealing type of thing before I take a bit of a break because of work and life and such. This challenge did give me what I intended, which was a really good exercise in writing again and a renewed sense of why I fell in love with writing to begin with. It got me out of a funk and away from myself, which is always a fun journey and I really appreciate those who joined me on it!

I'd still love to hear from anyone and accept all feedback, even if it might not be something I want to hear. So this wraps up the challenge part but please don't think I won't keep posting and updating!

Daily Challenge 21: Something I Miss

Something I miss very much lately is the house I grew up in. Lately in my lottery-like fantasies I have hoped to buy my old childhood home and move back near my bestie to raise my little one in the best place ever. Nothing about my childhood home let me down before all the me being 12 years old engulfed in family drama.

You could smell my dad's cooking on Thanksgiving upstairs and when he made pies or baked anything it made the house warm and welcoming. It was cool in the summer and warm in the winter. It was an old house with creaks that made me feel safe, not scared. It was clean and homey and filled with good things and comfort. It had a huge back yard with a hand-built-by-dad swing set and play house. My golden retriever ruled the yard. The garage smelled like lawnmower and old tools.

Sometimes I think I miss what the house represented, which was simple family of us three, and I worry that my daughter is missing out on that. Sometimes I think that I just miss it because I'm going through some mid-life crisis type thing. I guess we'll see.

I miss holidays with cousins and presents and the Christmas tree lighting the front window. I miss the brick sidewalk and the square less than a block down. I miss riding bikes with neighborhood kids and never being bored. I miss walks to the river and bouncing between houses with friends. I miss watching TV with my dad and listening to music in my room. Maybe I just really miss childhood. Regardless, challenge accepted and these are the things I currently miss. Way to bring on the nostalgia!

Daily Challenge 19: My Worst Habits

If we are going to lay out worst habits...mine would be biting fingernails. It goes hand in hand with my anxiety. 

I've been a nail chewer since I was little. I can still hear hear the scolding. When I get my nails done or paint them I am usually okay, but mostly if I am stressed or anxious that is when I chew away.

Other worst habits? I'm super self critical. In so many ways I think we can all say this about ourselves but I can get very mean to myself. Maybe that's a womanly trait, which is sad, but I think we often beat ourselves up far more than we deserve.

Talking about worst habits for a blog challenge is kind of a self-critical practice when we live in a society that preaches an awful lot about self care. Maybe some of our worst habits are pertaining to self care? Like if you like to unwind by doing a facial and plucking eyebrows and doing some personal maintenance to boost your confidence, maybe some see that as worst habit and plain old narcissism. What a thought that our worst habits could be tools in our preservation in one way or another!

So if your worst habit is working out too much? Like, what is that? I recently heard a comedian talk about how women want to be so skinny that people are concerned for their health. But then again some guys say they like thicker women. Where is the balance? Maybe a worst habit is being obsessed with balance! This is a dangerous blog challenge, so I digress.

Let's get back to the main subject of worst habits. I think all of these worst things are just subject to personal judgment. I would say my husband's worst habit is leaving his clothes all over the house, he might say something completely different about his own AND about mine. Regardless, I feel it best not to dwell. 

How about no more "my worst," and we re-frame this as "a habit I'd like to work on." Because isn't it all about attitude in the end? Let's work on all of it!

Daily Blog Challenge 18: What Am I Afraid Of?

Are we talking big picture, deep stuff like "failure" or actual fears like heights or spiders? Maybe we should cover it all.

When you're younger you might be afraid of the dark, new places or trying certain new things. As you get older you become more aware and you fear getting lost or go through the whole "death fixation." 

My actual fear? S-N-A-K-E-S. I mean like screaming, shaking, anxiety, knees buckling fear of those creatures. They need to stay far away and if you ever "joke" about my fear or try and scare me with one, I will show you why you should have been more constructive during your time in your death fixation phase. 

Spiders don't bother me, bugs in general I can deal with, lizards don't bother me. Snakes scare the beejesus out of me. They need to respect my space and I will respect theirs.

Other fears? The real deal ones including being a bad mother, not being able to pay bills, and letting the decisions of others define or dictate my life. But those are normal, right?

As someone who has been watching way too much Dexter lately I can tell you that fear is quite the motivator. And we all have such different fears. I never really feel afraid of heights until I'm up higher and then I'm like "uh oh!" 

Sharing fears is tough too, especially in a relationship. It makes us so vulnerable and sometimes creates more fear in and of itself. However, it can also bring you closer together when used properly, in many ways. 

Some people say you have to conquer your fears and I should just like, get a snake or something but I disagree. I feel like some fears are just meant to stay scary and some you grow out of, like being afraid of the dark. And let's not forget that some childhood fears like abandonment, getting actually lost, or not being good enough just grow with you. 

Those are the fears that keep therapy and billion dollar business, but that's another diatribe. Those fears don't have to define us though and can also give us strength in tackling them and overcoming some aspects as we become who we are meant to be. And often, as fearful as that journey is, it's worth the fear and vulnerability to become more of ourselves through it all. I'm still not touching a snake or being near one, though. Nope. 

Challenge 14: What's In My Handbag? Okay, No One Calls It That Anymore.

What is in my handbag? Do women still have a handbag? I thought we call them purses, bags, or a satchel even? Wristlet or clutch maybe. I haven't heard handbag lately. Currently I am sporting a Betsey Johnson small backpack much like Cher and Dion in Clueless or Elaine Benes of Seinfeld. I thought I was being cutting edge but seemingly all the cool kids are in on it now. 

My purse is always a mess. Complete with receipts, the general "woman supplies," hair ties, bobby pins, hair clips, lip gloss, chapstick, a pocket mirror, pens, a few business cards, the wallet, stray jewelry and change. Also any papers I'm "supposed" to review for later and various unopened pay stubs.

I don't miss the diaper bag days. I also find it sad that as we move into motherhood we are seemingly downgraded a purse, which we grow up to feel is as tantamount to being a woman as tampons, and handed a bag filled with everything your baby needs to the point of no room for anything we might need in there...besides a wallet with cards to pay for more baby stuff. My husband went to the lengths of finding me a purse by my favorite designer that could actually be used as a diaper bag and was even styled as such. It was still one of my least favorite mom moments though, because the cute diaper bags are rarely useful. 

Purses are fun and also a curse in a way. We feel naked without them like we are forgetting something. And we always have to find "The right one." Not to mention the trendy ones are always expensive. I had a friend who lived and died for Coach purses. Another dreams of Fossil. My mom went through a Tommy Hilfiger phase. Now I'm sure it's all Michael Kors and Kate Spade. I will always be a Betsey Johnson gal, myself. Some are desperate for the Louis Vuitton. 

The handbag question is personal and kind of ridiculous in actuality. Most of us carry the same staples but our bags hold all of our personal and private things. Sure, men have a wallet but how much can you really fit in there? Unless of course you're George Costanza. Purses are definitely and blessing and a curse for womanhood. Regardless, our handbag is our handle, if you will. We love to accessorize and match for special occasions and every day needs. They are just another way to let us express ourselves.

So whatever is in your handbag, and the mundane things that are in mine, those are unique and personal, much like the bag we choose to throw it all in! 

Blog Challenge 11: My Most Proud Moment

I feel like if I were to type "When I had my daughter," the moms would all be like "Yas queen," and all the single ladies would be like"Oh, seriously?" So I think we need to dissect this a bit.

Being proud eh? My most proud moment when I was younger was winning the 4th Grade Talent Show for singing "Castle on a Cloud" from Les Miserables. My mom found me a dingy old nightgown at GoodWill and unearthed a ratty stuffed animal. I've always loved to sing but stage fright is no joke. I took voice lessons from 2nd grade through Sophomore year and then high school politics killed my dream of ever being able to have any real performer-type things happen.

Anyway, my Voice Instructor played the piano for me and chose the song. I always wanted Disney. She always wanted Broadway. I remember being nervous and having this bear in my hands as part of the act, and as I sang and the more nervous I got, the more I just focused on the bear. It was just me and the stuffed animal. The song is about a sad, poor little child in London dreaming of not sweeping floors and one day having toys. It may have been my finest performance of all time and it won me first place against the boys in my class doing comedy routines and other people being talented as well. We may have a rogue VHS of this somewhere.

My one regret is I told my dad it wasn't worth him coming and that he also made me more nervous, so he missed it. My voice teacher said she almost messed up on the piano because she was so entranced by me and this bear performing such a heart-wrenching song to perfection. That was my peak I think, my American Idol moment.

Other proud moments in my life? At 18, I once told off an old man at Burger King who insinuated I was stupid for not being fast at math, which has always been a struggle for me. I was working the register and it broke and to make sure I gave correct change I started writing it out and he went off on me. I approached him later and told him I hope he never spoke to anyone else who was waiting on him like that again and he should be ashamed of himself for being so rude to someone trying to do well at their job.

I had proud moments with the kids I was a nanny for when they excelled at things, which they did often and still do. I've had proud moments of watching some of my favorite people grow into the fabulous mothers and women they are. But I will completely admit that my proud moment of ushering my baby from womb to world was because I did it completely without drugs, after my own mother said I wouldn't be able to handle it. Take that mom!

To make it even better, when I was super dilated and we had to ask for a wheelchair to get me into the building from the car where Luna was almost born Ricky Bobby style,  I was yelling a lot. It hurt! The nurses looked up from their charting and conversations all annoyed and said, "Is this your first baby, honey?" "Yeah," I muttered in pain. "Okay sweetie, just calm down and keep it down, you'll be fine." I could feel the she-dragon and if another contraction hadn't hit me so fast, I was moments away from yelling "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Less than 10 minutes later I was in a delivery room pushing, so I think I had a right to be a little loud.

My midwife said to me when I was screaming, "You need to push down and when you scream you push outward. Push down!" Getting my perfect daughter out in 3, bad ass, hardcore pushes, and then apparently making an intern faint, was a proud moment.

In motherhood, however, my proud moments have come from watching her with other people. It's not about walking and talking but her attitude that makes me proud. That kid perseveres just like her stubborn mother and when that happens, I get proud.

Last year she had a little boy in her after school program who kept hitting her in her crotch region and also put his hands on her throat once. I harnessed my mama bear and I said, "Baby, no one is allowed to touch you without your permission. And no one but mommy, daddy, grandma and a teacher helping you in the potty, goes near your private parts and still, you communicate with us when that happens. Now, we don't hit or hurt anyone, but if that boy is hurting you, and you need to get away, you get away from him and get help. Tell a teacher. You push him off of you and get to someone who can help. You don't let him hurt you!" She said "Okay mommy, I understand."

I was thankful it never came to that, but proud of her for telling adults what was happening and that she didn't like it. Most 4-year-old's might not. She now quotes the Aristocats often saying "Ladies do not start fights but we know how to finish them!" I do not disagree with her.

Overall though, I work on being proud of myself and I do this daily. We are our own worst critics aren't we? I get proud of myself when I get through a horrible day with no wine or no crying! I am proud of myself for working out consistently and finding ways to manage my anxiety. I'm proud of myself for knowing when to let people in and knowing when to just shut up. I'm proud of myself for not giving up when life has beaten me to a pulp but also not giving up on myself. And I'm excited for more and more most-proud moments, especially when you least expect them. We'll see if any are blog-worthy!