Maybe I’ll go for a walk today.
It’s cold. Maybe I’ll lift some weights instead.
I stayed up too late last night and I’m so tired. Maybe I’ll just do nothing.
Ugh. I do nothing a lot. Maybe I should do something even though I’m tired. Maybe I can do Just Dance.
Maybe I should do that more often. That was fun.
My wrist is sore again. Ugh. Maybe I shouldn’t have done Just Dance. Maybe I should take some Tylenol.
Maybe I should just go to bed. I’m so tired. Stupid Gilmore Girls.
Maybe I should just power through. But I really need to go to bed on time.
Maybe Dave will stop on the way home and pick me up some Doritos.
Maybe I should make the grocery list tonight so I can go earlier tomorrow since the kids have an early dismissal.
Maybe I should just sit on my butt and check blogs.
That’s a lot of effort. Maybe I should just play solitaire on my phone.
Maybe I should just cut my losses and go to bed.
No, wait. Doritos are coming.
Maybe I should tell the kids to get off their phones and go to bed.
I’m so tired of asking them to do stuff they know to do. Maybe I’ll just let them suffer the consequences we set in place.
Maybe I won’t be so grumpy tomorrow.
Since the kids were really young, Dave and I have tried to teach them to say “Please” and “Thank you”. They do it pretty regularly now, but still need a reminder every once in a while.
Saying please is just a basic human thing, but we never thought that they’r manners would somehow benefit US.
More specifically, Dave.
I will never forget the time we were out to restaurant for dinner. The waiter came around and took our order, which included a beer for Dave. When the bill came, we noticed that there was no charge for the beer. We couldn’t find our server, so another server came over and asked if there was a problem.
We explained that the beer wasn’t on the bill and that it needed to be added. The server was shocked that we even brought it up, but he went to find our server to let him know and to send out a corrected bill.
Our server came back to our table and let us know that the beer was complimentary because he had never had such polite kids as customers before. He figured we were doing something right so he deserved the beer.
Years of having the kids look servers in the eye when they ordered and having them say please and thank you FINALLY paid off.
I hate clothes.
There. I said it. I hate clothes. Not in a nudist “let’s all run around natural and free” sort of way. I’m all for BEING clothed. I just don’t like clothes.
I’m the youngest of 6 kids, 4 of which are girls. I don’t think I owned a piece of clothing that I was the first person to wear until I was…
Let’s see. When did I meet Dave?
I’m exaggerating, of course. But I did have a lot of hand me downs. And we were definitely not the wealthiest people in town, so even if they didn’t come from someone I was related to, they came second hand.
I also had a lot of hand made clothes. Mom was a seamstress, so if she couldn’t find it…she made it. Both of my prom dresses were handmade, as well as the outfit I wore to my brother’s wedding. She did great work, but I was never satisfied. When I picked out a pattern, I wanted to look like the model on the front of the pattern. I wanted the same fabric, the same hair, the same body shape.
The best seamstress in the world couldn’t have given me what I wanted.
I finally told Mom that I didn’t want her to make me any more clothes. I think that really hurt her feelings. I could never make her understand that it was more about my body image and vanity than it was about her skill.
I’m so glad she made clothes for Emma.
Filed under blogging, Mom
Generally speaking, I don’t feel old. I definitely don’t feel mentally old. When I think about my age, I’m always a little surprised when I think about the fact that I’m 40.
When I was a kid, 40 seemed ancient. And I swear…now that I’m there? I don’t feel ancient.
Every once in a while, though, I’ll look in the mirror and I’ll SEE that I’m older. The 40 comes shining through.
Skin that looks a little different…
Wrinkles that I swear didn’t use to be there…
Stomach cushioning that reminds me of my mom’s stomach…
More and more grey hair…
I start to think about whether it’s time to start doing something about it. Do I start switching to the night time creams? Is it worth it to get wrinkle stuff? Am I ever going to REALLY start listening to my hair lady talking about the coloring process.
I don’t think I will. I’ve never been one to care much about my personal appearance. I’ve never been one to wear makeup (I don’t even own any). I don’t use a lot of product in my hair. I don’t own a hair dryer.
I did try to dye my hair once in high school. You couldn’t even tell the difference.
I actually kind of like what I see when I look in the mirror. It’s 100% honest. No artificial ingredients.
I want to be the type of person who says yes more.
I think a lot of what prevents me from saying yes is fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of failure. Fear of injury.
But I also don’t want the kids to live in those fears. I don’t want to transfer my fears to them. I want them to be adventurous. I want them to take risks. I want them to look at the impossible and say “YES!”
So much of what I want for them as they grow are things that I was too afraid to say yes to myself.
I want them to go away to college. I want them to move away from home sooner. I want them to put down roots somewhere far away. I want them to take semesters abroad. I want them to do what they love without fear of being unsuccessful. I want them to travel the world by themselves. I want them to jump out of airplanes.
Well. Maybe not that one. But still.
I’m trying to say yes more…to them and to myself. But it isn’t always easy.
Last week would have been Mom’s 78th birthday. I woke up thinking that I was going to spend the day in a certain way, but then decided against it. I realized it seemed forced…that I was going to spend the day in a way I thought I should instead of just seeing what happened.
It felt really good.
I’m too a point where I don’t think about her every day like I used to. The thoughts of her are fewer and there are longer stretches between them.
And I think that’s they way it should be.
I don’t want to force memories.
I don’t want to feel bad for thinking of her or not thinking of her or WHATEVER. I just want whatever is going to happen to happen.
I don’t want the kids to feel like they should be having certain feelings. I don’t want them thinking they are doing things “wrong” because they start to forget…which they have.
I don’t want Dave thinking he’s done something wrong because he doesn’t anticipate that a day might be hard.
I just want to BE. Whatever memories or emotions pop up, I’ll go with the flow.
I think that’s how she would’ve wanted me to live, anyway.
Filed under blogging, Mom
I was telling Dave the other day that I know the rain is good for things (plants, animals, water levels, whatever), but I just don’t really like it.
It messes with my sinuses. It messes with my mood. I’m starting to notice that it’s messing with my joints. Or maybe that’s all in my head. It’s sunny today and my joints are still a little achy so maybe I’m just getting old.
When I wake up in the morning and it’s grey outside, I just want to stay in bed. But I can’t. I have to get up because the kids need me or…I guess there’s no or. It’s just the kids in the morning. Otherwise I would stay in bed on grey days.
If I’m downstairs, and it’s raining, I just want coffee. Or tea. Or a nap.
Maybe I just need more sleep. Maybe it’s not the weather at all.
Maybe I’m just old.
I do believe I may have reached the “curmudgeon” stage of life.
Now get off my lawn.
End 2016 with more steps than 2015
(Increase Average Steps per Day)
I’m calling more than 50% a win, lol.
Spend less money on parking than I did in 2015
(Track monthly spending)
Better than going up
Earn 6000 reward airline miles
(Take 10 surveys a month)
Holy moly. That’s a lot of surveys.
2016 PopSugar Reading Challenge
(Read at least 25 of the 41 suggested books)
||A book at least 100 years older than you
||Walden – Henry David Thoreau
||A graphic novel
||Maus – Art Spiegelman
||A murder mystery
||Cinnamon Roll Murder – Joanna Fluke
||A book that takes place on an island
||Island of the Blue Dolphins – Scott O’Dell
||NOVEMBER – 4 books read
|| YEAR – 31/25 books read
Oh my gosh. Walden. I chose it because we own it. I don’t know why we own it. I can’t get those hours (and hours) of my life back. But with 4 books read in November, 35 books for the year doesn’t seem so impossible..
So. I’m here. I’ve set the timer for five minutes and I’m just going to write.
Except that I don’t feel like I have anything to write about. I feel like I should tell you a witty story, but I don’t think I have any witty stories to tell. My “blog posts” all feel too short in my head lately…more like FB updates.
I feel like I can’t expand on anything. Like I have all of this stuff floating around in my head but it’s all little bits of information that doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot to do with the little bit of information next to it. I want to take all the little bits and try to make them into a cohesive thing.
But it doesn’t work.
I sit staring at the screen, convinced that no one really cares about what I write. That my stories are gone and that I’m only left with data. You don’t want to hear about my daily chauffeur schedule. You don’t want to hear that I always feel busy but usually feel like I have nothing to show for it. You don’t want to hear about all the little STUFF that seems to consume my days lately.
Sometimes I sit down to write and I hear a voice in my head that says “You’re boasting. No one likes people who boast.” or “You’re boring.” or “It’s time to just quit the blog.”
But I don’t want to quit the blog. I just don’t know how to weave the blog into my life now.
I think it’s pretty safe to say I’ve lost my blogging mojo. I’ve thought about throwing in the towel completely, I just can’t bring myself to do it. So, instead of only blogging once in a while (I think I’ve been doing once a week), I’m going to bite the bullet and blog every day in December.
You heard right.
Every. Damn. Day.
My friend, Susan, posted something to her FB page the other day that helped me decide to jump in.
I do love a good list to follow. And even I can manage 5 minutes a day, right?
Be warned. I have no idea where this…um…idea will take me. I think my biggest obstacle will be thinking that it has to be or go or sound a certain way.