The Baby Effect

Last night my dear friend gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. It's taking every ounce of strength I have to not jump in the car in my pajamas and drive like Jeff Gordon to see her. I'm trying to have restraint. I've made it to 7:38am. I'll be brushing my teeth and in the car before this blog is over.

I've discovered not all people are baby people. Some are taken back by how small they are. Some the amount of noise such a tiny creature can create.  Not me. I'm addicted to their smell, the warmth, the way they want so much to be enveloped and loved. It's like crack. Only more expensive if you have one your own. Which is why, after being so very blessed with 4 of our own, I have taken to getting my "fix" from other peoples babies.

Holding a baby makes your worries so small.  You look at how helpless yet hopeful they are.  They're brand new, endless possibilities ahead of them. They smell like happiness (until they smell like something else but that's not even bad at the beginning.)  It also transports me back to the first days of each of my four children. Some of the most vulnerable yet empowering days I've ever experienced.  After having c-sections I was dependent on others for physical help to get around for the first few days. At the same time this sweet little baby was dependent on me for it's very existence. Such a strange and beautiful dichotomy. I'm usually very independent so I do relish the time where I can exhale, let go of the control and just enjoy the spoiling.  I don't recommend a c-section just to earn yourself a few days of being taken care of but it is one of the perks.

My youngest child has turned 3 recently. He is no longer dependent on me for many of the things he once was. He walks, gets his own food often, asks for what he needs with words other people understand and not coo's and cries that only I know instinctively. This is typically the time my mind and body begin pulsing for another newborn. This time I am unable to answer the call.  After 4 c-sections and much prayerful consideration the doctors, my husband and myself felt it best to put a "going out of business" sign on the baby factory.  It was a bittersweet decision.  It makes me feel like less of a woman when you are no longer able to conceive and carry a child. Thankfully God has given me peace with my decision. There are restful nights of sleep in my weekly routine. Diapers will soon be gone from my life after 11 years of always being in a basket on the side table. Binkies will no longer need to be fished out from under furniture. Bottle liners, formula and mylicon are no longer a staple on my shopping lists. They have been replaced by bread and snacks for lunchboxes. Ingredients for class party goodies. Cards and gifts for friends birthday parties. Sleeping bags for sleepover parties. Rubbing alcohol for cleaning newly pierced ears. Clear lip gloss for girls who want to grow up too fast.

All the while I still see them as these helpless, precious little gems that God sent down from Heaven and placed straight into my arms.  The more they want to grow the more I want to keep them small.  As they grow they think they need me less.  As they grow I need them even more. It's amazing how you do everything you can to make them wise, kind, loving people that you will set free upon the world.  All the while breaking your heart knowing they will one day do just that, go.

So you press on joyfully.  You adjust to the new role as they grow and change. You learn to give space while knitting a massive safety net they should know is always there to fall into.  You teach what we do.  Why we do it.  Why this is right.  Why that is wrong.  How you treat friends.  How you treat strangers.  Why we have to do homework.  How the dishes do not wash themselves. Why a relationship with God is vital.  How prayer works. What you should eat.  How you should care for yourself. Why friends are important.  What kind of man you should look for to marry (just like your Daddy). How you should treat a lady. If you play your cards right they will one day be that same person you are tripping over yourself to visit in the hospital with a precious little gem of their own.  You'll be able to dote on another precious life. You'll get that same gift and be able to relish it even more with a mind clear from sleep. With a heart open because you fully understand how immense this event is.  You'll get all the good stuff with very few diapers or tears.

*runs out the door to hold that baby girl* 

“A baby is God's opinion that life should go on. Never will a time come when the most marvelous recent invention is as marvelous as a newborn baby" - Carl Sandburg

Time to Tweak

I hate all the New Year, New You advertising.  By this time in my life (at 37) I'm happy with who I am. I don't need a massive overhaul like I'm some rusted out 1957 Chevy Corvette missing two headlights and a fender. I'm solid. I'm dinged in a few spots but in no way ready for the trash heap.  And neither are you, friend.

The things I need to tweak this year: (If I publish them you are all accountable to help me when I slip)

Anxiety Level:
For some reason the last two months have thrown my mind/body into a topsy turvey white knuckle hold onto your lunch thrill ride, minus the thrill part. I'm working on learning to say no. I've removed caffeine from my diet. I'm taking time to sit still.  I'm hopeful this is just the end of the 30's hormones trying to settle. Only time will tell.

Overall Body Health:
Last year I dropped 60lbs and was at my goal weight.  I got lazy, comfortable, yada, yada, yada and need to take a bunch of that 60 off again this winter.  Our 20 year HS Reunion is this August so I have a tangible goal. That always helps me.  Knowing I'll be seeing so and so makes me put down the ice cream and eat a carrot.  I'm going with the low carb, high protein thing this go around.  I'll report back how that goes. The more I read about this, the more I am learning that anxiety/adrenaline stuff is very related.  My diet (i.e. sugar, white flour) may very well be adding to if not causing my internal conflict.

Friendships:
I need to work on being a better friend.  My busy life causes me to not always be present. I'm there with you but not really there with you.  I'm conscience of this flaw and working to correct it.  My friends are so precious to me and I want them to always feel treasured.

Go With the Flow:
I'm not a flow person. I'm a plan person. P.L.A.N. plan. Maps, itineraries, agendas, lists. They make me happy.  I won't stop making them. I will however learn not to loose my lunch when we stray from one. Some of life's best adventures are had when we go with the flow.

Blog More:
Blogging to me is a way of removing the million thoughts in my head in a healthy way.  It's a daily purge of the extra stuff.  It's for me. It's therapy.  I need to commit to 30 minutes a day.

Pray More:
One thing that I cherish is my relationship with the Lord. Relationships are only as good as the time you invest in them.  I'll never be more at peace if I don't spend more time with the One who created me.

Smile:
It instantly lifts your mood.  At the very least it reminds you to brush your teeth and we all feel better when we're minty fresh.  Try it!

Spoil Myself:
I WILL get my hair cut/colored every 6-8 weeks.
I WILL pay someone to paint my toenails at least 4 times a year.
I WILL schedule babysitters/dates with my husband every month.

I challenge you to look at your tweak list.  Find 3 things that would make you feel more you! And then do them. Share them with me.  Accountability is always key.

Happy New Year, Not New You! The one you are is perfect.  She just needs a new coat of clear polish :)

 

Playing in Dirt

Over the weekend we spent the afternoon at my parents farm.  They have 3 new baby goats who are both adorable and hysterical.  The girls went right in the fenced in paddock and stayed there for hours.  Chasing the goats. Picking them up.  Climbing on the makeshift 'mountain" area.  They were filthy at the end of the day.  Exhausted.

I stood at the kitchen window smiling.  There was no computer.  No DS.  No tv.  No MP3 Players or iPods.  Yet they were having a ball.  They took rides in the golf cart, fed the new pigs and the horse. Did kid stuff.  There was no whining about whose turn it was.  No one touched anyone.  They played together and get this: enjoyed being together.  How's that for crazy?

Our normal days consist of a whole lot of she's touching me, she called me (fill in the blank), he used my blah blah, she isn't sharing the whatever.  So this camaraderie was a breath of fresh air.  I gulped in a deep breathe of it and held it for a while.  It even came home with us (for a little while).  No one threw an elbow at the sink brushing teeth.  They went to bed.  They slept.  Good times.

I realized how glad I am that I grew up that way.  I hope I am able to recreate that kind of childhood for my own kids.  One that involves being outside.  Playing in dirt.  Eating vegetables that come right from the vine.  Worms.  Making forts in the woods.  The stuff that kids do so much less of these days.  It will require more laundry on my part.  Chasing the smallest one all over 12 acres.  Keeping people at the front end of the horse.  More work.  But work that will bear fruit.  Grow people who are an asset to the world and not a burden. Sometimes hard work pays off. Actually, hard work always pays off.  Even if you don't get the desired outcome you worked hard.  That in and of itself is a win.      





  

Woody - Be Quiet!

I am sitting here on the couch at 6am. Quiet, coffee and News Channel 4 my only cares in the world. You all know how I treasure MY hour.  The sweet silence is shattered by the machine gun fire sound of our resident woodpecker who has fallen in love with our chimney.  He is clearly not a bright bird.  He pecks on the metal box that comes out of the chimney top.  It's a startling noise that took me a year to identify.  I first blamed my neighbor who has a vast array of tools.  I assumed he had a rivet gun and something that needed to be riveted.

I finally moseyed over to his yard upon hearing the noise one day and realized he was not home.  Clearly not the culprit.  I made my way back to the yard and saw him.  A black bird with a red head.  Sitting on top of the chimney, not a care in the world.  He raised his beak and began to peck. *pppptttthhhhhhhhhhh*  *pppttthhhhhhhhhh*  *pppppttthhhhhhhh*  I stood there with my mouth a gape realizing this cute little bird was my unwanted alarm clock.

It has been 6 years and every spring he shows up.  We assume assume in search of a birdie bride.  The dude is lucky I grew up on a farm.  I understand that we moved into their space.  I wish him no harm.  I just wish he wasn't such an early riser.

Baking a Cake and Eating it Too

Good Morning and Happy Monday!  Fresh start. Clean slate. Reset button has been held down for 30 seconds and here we go......Coughed myself awake today.  The dry kind you can't stifle.  I assume it's allergies of some kind.   The good news is it's an amazing ab workout and I drink a ton of water to try and make it go away, so it's like a diet in disguise.  (See. Cup 3/4 full.)

 Today I have a busy day.  I am laughing because I think am realizing all my days are busy.  Last minute cake order for Wednesday came in last night from my neighbor.  Special order for the deli this week for one of their customers means an extra 12 of the Colossal Confections.  Donating a cake to St. Rose's weekend Bake Sale.  Class parties on Friday so there will be cupcakes for those.  Softball themed cake for my sweet friend Samara on Saturday.  Still trying to get a hold of my M.I.A. babysitter.  Samara's party is in NYC and I would really love hubby to come with me.  But if I can't get a sitter I'll be looking for another date.  Anybody wanna go?  There will be cake.  Vanilla on vanilla.  I am kind of psyched I get to eat one of my own cakes.  That never happened.  Bought a cute dress to wear.  Need to try it on.  Took 2 kids to the mall with me and they are unfortunately the two most distracted by shinny objects so I did not have much success in trying things on.  We shall see.  Weather looks iffy on Saturday at best so it may end up being a jeans thing.  But any chance I get to put on adult shoes and sit in a NYC setting and soak it in is a WIN in my column.

What else?  Groceries being delivered.  Speech Therapy for the O man.  Dropping of some CM products to a friend of a friend.  Wow.  Nice when stuff you forgot you had in your closet makes you money.  Dinner out tonight folks.  House is not a complete pig sty.  Laundry, two loads to do.  Sink empty (thanks Honey).  Monday may turn out just fine.  As long as that dress fits.  I bought the smaller size.  Dreaming big.

Alright Monday, let's see what you got.

Dearest Mr. Darcy...

I received a hand written thank you note in the mail this week.  The precious little card was punctuated with graphic white polka dots on a black background, a small pink box in the center with my friends name emblazoned on it.  It reminded me so much of my spunky yet timeless and classy friend who took the time to send it.  I opened it.  Read the words. Smiled.  Sniffed back a tear.  Smiled again.  It was a kind thank you for the planning and preparation I had put into our recent girls weekend away.  It was mushy. It was sappy.  It was everything I love wrapped up in a 3x5 note card.  Had there been a chocolate truffle inside I would have called it utter perfection.  My 'love language' is Acts of Service so when someone appreciates my acts I feel like I am giving the best I have to give.  I feel love.

It got me thinking about one of my favorite movies: Pride and Prejudice.  The way they wrote elegant letters back and forth.  It was their most used form of communication.  So gentile. Proper.  Yet passionate and expressive.  I could just sit and  listen to the words be read time and time and time again.  I must preface this by saying I am wretched at sending thank you notes.  I buy many of them to send. I write them out. I even address them.  It's the stamps.  Argggggghhhhhhh, the lack of stamps.  I never have any on hand and when I finally get some the notes are lost in a pile.  I try. I swear.  I need to get better at it.  I think it is important.

I am however good at communicating through the computer.  I think that Social Media is a fascinating area of study.  Were I still in college it would have been a concentration in my Communications quest.  I love to see how people feel comfortable reaching out to one another.  I personally love email, Facebook, IM, BBM things that make communication instant and yet non-intrusive.  A person can read your message or query then choose to reply immediately or when it is convenient for them. They can also ignore you all together, which is near impossible to do on a phone call or face to face.  It has removed some of the feeling you get from a phone call but I think the frequency makes up for that in some respects.  The more you 'chat' with someone the more you get a feel for their voice in general.

Do I still love a long drawn conversation over a cup of coffee nestled up in my arm chair while catching up with a friend?  I do.  I crave it.  But I do find the same level of companionship out reading a Facebook post about a friends victory or challenge.  I feel included.  In the loop.  I am able to absorb information from them I would not have known otherwise.  I get very few quiet moments to chit chat on the phone in my everyday life.  I am a hot commodity around here :)  These new forms of communication have afforded me the ability to not feel like I live on Lepper Island.  It's good.

Do some people over share on the Social Media sites? Yes.  Yes they do.  Do I need to know when someone's Aunt Flo is visiting or how many times their kiddos has pooped that day?  Probably not.  But that is why each media has the 'see you later' button.  You just send the oversharers packing. No harm, no foul.  I have also found there are people with whom I have been acquaintances with and I discover that they are amazing people.  People I would likely have never spent enough time with in person to ever get to know this.  I count this a win.

In short, if you can find a way to stay connected with people: do it.  We are here on this Earth to make someone else's day better, brighter.  Make a call, write a note, type an IM, post a message, tweet somebody....connect with people...help someone find their smile.  You'll be glad you did.

    

A Trip to Target

I frequent Target.  By frequent I mean go at least once a week.  This  glorious mecca of food items, affordable clothing, lip gloss, toys, books, children's underwear and hair dye calls to me.  Whispers my name as I drive by. The giant red bullseye beats in a gentle but mind washing rhythm that says come...come...come...

So I go.  You probably have heard me there.  I am the one with the squeaky cart.  Always.  No matter how much careful cart inspection and re-con I do, it finds me.  Mister Squeaky Wheel  finds me.  I like to park next to the cart return. It's my spot.  I'm kind of a nut about that. Please leave it open for me next time you go. I don't like leaving the kids in the car and walking away to return the cart but I also hate to leave the cart alone in  the lot without a safe home.  I am nut ball, this I am sure of.  I also like to go at 10am. When Target is mostly full of other Mommies on Missions such as myself.  No one wants to chat.  We are all business.

The Target which I frequent (i.e. live in) is in the town I went to both grammar and high school in.  I do not have the luxury of rolling up in there looking like I just woke up.  This will guarantee me a run in with somebody who knows me.  I have to at the very least thrown on some lip gloss and a headband.  I dream someday of a pajama clad stroll through Target.  Hair disheveled.  A little crust in the corner of my eyes.  A nice pillow crease on the left side of my face. But alas, it evades me.

Then there is my Target companion.  A two year old boy.  He is a good companion.  Not terribly fussy today.  He has decided that we should announce with gusto and panache  each and every number, letter and color we walk past. "Three!  Yeah Three!  Sebben!  Yeeeeah Sebben!  A! Red! Yelloooooow!"  This is the boy who did not say a word until he had tubes but in his ears last fall so he can jibber jabber all day long.  It does my heart good.  He has decided today that the hood on his dark blue moose sweatshirt should remain up as we peruse the aisles.  Hie looks a little like he may shop lift a Weeble Wobble with this whole hood thing going on.  But he's cute, he wins, hood stays up.

We pass the $8 t-shirts.  I need a new white one.  I always need a new white one.  My dear friend KellyAnn has passed her gift of spilling food onto me and I swear I may start wearing a bib full time.  The winter clothes are now 70% off but there is nothing I can't live without.  I spy the flip flops wall.  It beckons me like the promise of Spring.  So many bright colors and pretty floral patterns. I only succumb to one pair.  Size 11.  Yeah for big foot, she found a pair.  As we pass the book section my blackberry buzzes and our Book Club selection for April is in....and not in Target....poop.  That really would have been too easy.  Next is the toy area.  The poor 4th kid gets all the hand me down toys.   I sneak through as fast as possible and find an alphabet toy on clearance.  Score one for the kid in the hoodie.

Twenty minutes are alloted to the pantry/food department.  We need cake mix, milk, juice boxes, plastic spoons for lunch boxes, blah blah blah...oh what's that you say coffee aisle...you have Kahlua Flavored Coffee in the Keurig K-Cups....don't mind if I do.  Cough medicine, hair dye and nail polish....oh crap, baby wipes.  The whole reason we came to Target is that we need baby wipes.

One hour later we are at the register.  I have of course picked up an item without a price tag.  It is my gift in life.  It will be the only sport I will Gold Medal in once I can convince the Olympic Panel it's a viable sport.  We check out and head home, victorious.

Me and the hoodie kid are proud of ourselves.  We ran through the alphabet twenty three, maybe twenty four times.  We remember to stop and pick up the pre-school dude on the way home, which is always a bonus.  We have to lug all these treasures in the house now.  Lay them out on the counter and survey our newly acquired riches.  We are like modern day pirates.  Arrrghhhhhhhhhh.....flying the flag of surrender.  You won again Target.  But we'll be back. We will try again to buy one item.  And we will loose.

Grown Ups

Have you ever found yourself in the middle of an average day, cleaning house, making meals, chauffeuring people to and fro, taking a moment to belt out a Lisa Lisa Cult Jam song in your best shower voice, when it hits you: I'm the grown up. If something goes wrong or heck, if something goes right it's on me.  You look around the car sheepishly making sure none of the people whose lives depend on  your 'grown up ness' realize you have these thoughts.  They would pounce on you like a hungry lioness feeding her cubs.  You snap back into yourself and think, I pay a mortgage, I have a checkbook, I own sensible shoes for crying out loud. Of course I am a grown up.  

I keep waiting for that Ahhh Ha Moment where I feel like I got this. Like whatever life throws my way I can handle.   How I assumed all grown ups felt.  I suspect this is a fallacy. I think we all feel 17 in our heads and just act like a 36 year old's should act.  I don't think I feel immature.  In fact I think at 17 I was quite mature. I got into way less trouble than most kids my age.  I had good friends who  also made good choices and we chose stupid fun over trouble.  I give you Moto Photo Car Jacking Night as a prime example. If you were there you know of what I speak. No trouble, just making fun out of a somewhat peculiar situation.

Back to today. I still dance around my kitchen to music that made me smile as a kid.  I am very nostalgic for my High School days. Not that I was popular, the home coming queen or class president.  I was the chubby girl in the choir robe who liked NKOTB.  But I was always me.  I never faked it.  Me and my friends didn't care what was expected of us.  We literally marched to the beat of our own drummer and he beat out some good One Hit Wonders: I am from the Vanilla Ice, Wreckx-N-Effect, Deep Blue Something Era.  We had the feel good music of our generation at it's best.  No heavy lyrics, a whole lot of yeah yeah yeahs.  Or in my case Ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo's... good times.  

I have never wanted to go back.  I am enjoying being a grown up and have zero regrets.  I do however find it important to keep your old  friends close. I am blessed to still be very close with a number of my friends from 6th/7th grade. I think it is vital that you spend time with people who know you, at your core.  Who have slept over your house and rollerskated with you.  People who permed your hair, put copious amount of blue eye shadow on you and sent you into the world saying "yeah girl, you look good". Folks who rode around in your car with the windows down, music pumping and understood your biggest care was your math midterm.  People who were there when you were becoming you.

I am coming to understand that growing up is about choices, not feelings.  You choose to do the responsible thing.  You choose your kids college fund over Jimmy Choo's. You make grilled tilapia with roasted veggies on a real plate instead of eating nachos off the sheet tray.  You get sleep.  You clean things because the alternative is grossness.  No one is coming to pick up your mess after you. You do the right things.  The unselfish things.  The things that prosper the people you love first, second, third, fourth, sometimes fifth.  You put yourself on the back burner and find peace in that.  In fact, you find immense joy in that.

Disclaimer: a few times a year I make sure that I get away with my girlfriends.  These same lunatics who sent  me into the world with day glow pink lip gloss and  two pairs of Wigwams.  These women are who I am.  They were there when this mess was forming into a woman.  They lifted me up and made me feel safe to become me.   They do the same thing for me to this day.  I need that  time with them to regroup.  To decompress in the safety of a Judge Free Zone.  Running a household, a business, a marriage and 4 small lives   is the best thing I have ever done but it is work folks.  No bon bon's or housekeepers here.  Getting to let go for a day or two and just be me is selfish.  It is childish.  Irresponsible. But most of all it is necessary. For me to be on my A-Game I have to be me.  Thank you God for the women in my life who help me to do that. Thank God for a husband who allows me that selfish time now and again. Thank God for parents who help out with the kids so I can take a minute for just me.  Thank God for new friends who may not have known me at 13, but were me at 13 and we have such common ground now.

In short....Thank you God for the people you have put in my life. I could not ask for more.   

  

Sniff Sniff

I walked down the stairs this morning, hand on the hand rail extra tight this time of day.  I may be a morning person but I still have to wake up.  I was accosted by the smell of sauteed onions and peppers from last nights cheese steaks.  Man oh man, they were good.  Toasty rolls with lots of think steak, the afore mentioned peppers and onions, melted provolone cheese...happiness on a plate.  That got me thinking about smells. How a sense can transport you back to a time and place.

It's amazing really.  We humans have the ability to remember facts, feelings and things that our senses perceive: visions, sounds, textures, tastes and smells.  Often times they are the most powerful memories.  The kind that stop you cold in your tracks.

The smell of baby asprin for some reason always makes me smile.  I suspect because when I had to take it as a child I was sick and being cared for, fussed over.

Fresh cut grass reminds me of dating my husband. He ran a lawn service when we first dated and I would often spend time hanging out in his truck, reading or painting my nails so I could just be near him.

Opening a new package of Pampers diapers take me back to the first day my first child was born.  It was such a new and scary world being in charge of a itty bitty human being  and that smell put me at ease.  Once I had mastered the art of changing a diaper I felt like I could do more and more until it became second nature.  That first small victory stayed with me.  I tear up every time I open a new package thinking about how far we've come.

Musty basement makes me think of my parents basement and brings me a calm, home feeling.  Each time I go down their stairs to get something from the pantry I stop.  I take a deep breath through my nose.  I center myself.

Mulch, pine shavings and dirt all make me think of my Mom as she is always in the garden making friends with bugs or enemies with a ground hog.  While I detest dirt myself I am finding I like to be in it as long as she is by my side.

Diesel fume exhaust transports me to my brothers F-350 and I am in college driving around with him, listening to Shania Twain at max volume. The bass is so high you can feel the music around you.

Wood stain brings me to my Dad's workshop.  I am small.  He is big.  Even though we are about the same height now, he is still big in my eyes.

Peanut M&M's with Diet Coke take me to the morning drive to High School with Glenivia.  We are 17 and on top of the world.  Oversized blazers, tore up jeans and Hot 97 on the radio.  Turns out we knew next to nothing but that did not even hinder our stride for a moment.  

It's amazing really.  How many memories our minds hold. How much love we have encountered and how the brain logs it all.  Then it is generous enough to let you take them out from time to time and try them on.  To envelop yourself in that experience.  To remember exactly how that moment felt.  To see how much you've grown or how you are exactly the same.  The clarity sense memories bring is a gift in my eyes.  Being able to step outside of your present moment is often the medicine we need to remain sane in our current moment.  Even if only for a brief second.

Size 5 in the L4

Mornings. People either love them or hate them.  I have yet to meet someone who is neutral on the subject.  I am an early riser thanks to growing up on a farm with a morning person Mamma who was up feeding the chickens before the sun peaked over the trees.  Every morning my Facebook feed is full of "good Mornings" and "uuuughhh, it's too earlys".   It's a very polarizing subject matter.

I need my morning hour.  The 6-7am hour before anyone else in my house gets up. I have an alarm set on my phone for 7 in case I over sleep, but that only happens a handful of times and usually involves me being sick. I relish in the quiet and serenity.  The kitchen is clean.  The toys are all nestled in their bright green canvas boxes waiting for their turn to play.  Book bag and sneakers are lined up just so  against the wall, neat and tidy.  My coffee is still hot and the smell fills my head with calm thoughts.  It's the only time my house full of kids and commotion is Zen like.  I take the time to do my devotional. Spend time with the Lord. Read emails. Answer emails. Check Facebook. Watch the news. Check on the weather. Pray. These things are the ground work for my day.  The Must Do's. I am a creature of habit.  Plain, simple.

This very morning I was jarred awake by pain and pressure. A very uncomfortable feeling.  It was quite disturbing given I am in love with my bed and pillow in an almost inappropriate way.  (My love for my bed is a whole other blog.)  I am laying there in my happy place trying to figure out what is happening in the pre-wake up fog.   Then it comes into focus and hits me.  Literally hits me. A foot has found it's way into my spine.  A size 5 foot belonging to a 4 year old boy. These toes I fell in love with the moment he was born.  I kissed, I played piggie goes to market with.  I helped fit for his first pair of shoes.  These same toes were betraying me.  Nestling themselves into my L4 with Midevil Chinese Torture precision.  This boy who loves me more than the sun and moon is slowly killing me in his sleep.  Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The more I move away to get relief the closer he comes. Feeling the warmth drift away from him he counters with harder jabs and a lead arm throw which lands on my forehead. *mental note: check mirror for black eye*

I had no choice but to get the heck out of there before I was beaten beyond recognition.  The last thing I need is some sweet soul in the church lobby wondering if I have a siltation I need to get away from at home.  My early morning Zen hour began early today.  And took longer to come to fruition.  I am here now.  Victorious against the tsunami of kid love that invaded my bed as I slept.  I hold no ill will against the lover.  He is my world and I'd take a love beating from him any day over the alternative.

The aggressor has just joined me in the office.  His sleepy cadence wobbling through the room.  Telling me he does not need to use the bathroom and then running to get there in time.  His hair is disheveled.  Breath smell quite awful.  Pajamas now tucked into his underwear.  A sight to behold.  But his eyes have me smitten.  He is the epitome of enthusiasm and emotion.  He's the reason (he and the other little sweet peas) I get up everyday and take this hour to prep myself for the day ahead.  The reason I want to always be on my A-Game.  He matters and therefore I matter.  And that's my real moment of Zen...

The Happiness Equation

I have been described my entire life as happy. Cheerful. Spunky. Positive.  I tend to walk on the sunny side of the street.  I carry around a glass 3/4 full looking for another 3/4 cup so I can overflow and share.  The eternal optimist. Not  to say that I do not have bad days or ugly moments.  I can absolutely get my grouch on. But if you had to paint me with a broad brush stroke you'd say purring kittens, sunshine and rainbows.

I have bumped into the opposite kind of person from time to time in life.  The one who is never quite happy enough. Is always looking down at their feet, mumbling about one thing or another.  In a constant state of woe is me.  It has got me thinking: Why?  What is it that makes one person  have a personality that craves joy and another that emanates gloom and doom.   Is it something your parents teach you?  Can you be taught to be happy? It has been heavy on my heart of late.

When I cross paths with these people they look at me like I have two heads.  Like I'm a baboon in t he zoo exhibit throwing feces at them.  Constantly looking behind me for a battery pack of stardust and confetti.  I feel like they are trying to decipher what makes me tick as hard as I am trying to make them smile.  I get up in the morning thinking about what I can do to make someone smile.  I live for laughter that makes your stomach cramp and face muscles ache in glorious pain.  Nothing warms my heart like the sight of a baby smiling at you from their shopping cart across the aisle in Target.  I just love happiness.

I recently read a book whose character was a professor who taught a class on happiness.  He was trying to find the formula for happiness.  Like it is a simple math equation.  Security + Good Experiences = Happiness.  A recent episode of Oprah (which I hardly ever watch yet will reference twice in this paragraph alone) had a real life professor who wrote a book about the same subject.  He took into account factors which made people happier.  Working close to home vs. a long commute.  Being married vs. single.  Having children vs. not.  Money.  Geography.  Stress.  Relationships.  The list went on and on.  I wonder if it's that easy. I envision an infomercial at 3am promising with 4 easy payments of $19.99 YOU TOO can follow these 10 easy steps and be joyful.  *Cue studio audience to clap like they are at the taping of Oprah's Favorite Things.*

I think in part your circumstances help or hinder your joy.  I have to put out the disclaimer that I had a happy childhood. I come from a financially stable background. I am very happily married and am head over heels in love with my husband and kids.  On the flip side,  I have been the chubby girl my whole life. I have had my heart broken by boys, friends, experiences.  My kids have the gift of pushing my Make Momma Crazy Button.  Life has not always gone my way.  But the longer I live and the more people I meet I think it's a hardwired trait. At 10 years old I didn't know how to make myself happy.  I didn't go through the list of things you need to be joyful and seek them out.  I just was.  I think the same goes for people who seem unhappy.  I am certain they don't wake up everyday trying to make themselves miserable.  I know they don't spill out their cup of joy looking for misery.  I often wonder if they know the vibe they are sending the world.  Do we attract what we put out in the world?  If you send out stardust with jazz hands do you get that back?  Does misery really love company?

I think it does.  I don't mind  throwing a good pity party from time to time. We all have days that you stand in the middle of the third glass of spilled milk, holding the crying baby with the ear infection as dinner burns.  You roll your eyes, sniff up the tears and lift your hands to heaven asking WHY ME?  But you get over it.  You don't stay there.  Something snaps you out of it.  You come back to yourself.  It's easier for some people to do that.  Of this I am convinced.

Personally I can only take so much of a woeful personality before I have to retreat.  I need to get back in my bubble.  I do not think less of them.  I do not dislike them.  I just cringe knowing it's coming.  The whining is coming. The Eeyore sighs are coming.  I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears and say la la la la la.  But I stay and smile. I try to help. I be a friend.  I do my part.  While it may be contrary to my nature I still find being a good and honest friend a very valiant trait.  My insides are churning like the Bryers Ice Cream factory but I am smiling and holding your hand and listening for the 10,000th time because that is what friends do. Here is my big problem with it: I can't help.  I can't fix it.  No matter how many pep talks or cheery words of wisdom I impart, nothing changes.  My first born type A personality needs to fix it.  I fail.  You can imagine how much I enjoy failure.  It grates on me like a 40 year old Pecorino Romano.  No good.  In fact it stinks.  It's selfish of me.   I get that.  It's about me when I should be thinking about you.  I just am spent.  We've been here.  We've done this.  Yet.  Here were go again...la la la la....

So what are the options for Susie Sunshine and Debbie Downer in a friendship? How does one find and embrace happiness?  Is there a simple recipe you can toss in the Kitchen Aid and *poof* Joy Souffle?  Is it my job to make you happy? I wish I had some of these answers.  It only brings me more questions with a side of heartache.

 

Designed to Create

Sitting here, eating Jalapeño potato chips for breakfast.  Don't judge, the coffee simply was not enough today.  Thinking about my to-do list: shower, throw a 'Healthy Snack Class Party' for kid 2, make lunch, make a garden themed first birthday cake, make dinner, etc.  It got me thinking about creating.  Making.  How there wasn't something and then there was.  How we as human beings love to make stuff.  We make a building with 4 walls and a roof into a home, a refuge for a family to feel safe and loved.  We make a spectacular Italian meal where there once was a dry box of pasta and some tomatoes.  We make order out of chaos.  We make love out of a bashful glance. We create.  We thrive on making. 


That led my mind to this verse: Genesis 1:27 ~ So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.


I am firmly convinced we were created.  I refuse to believe I was once a one celled piece of dirt on the muddy floor of a pond.  I have given birth to four children and I am certain, beyond all doubt, that God knit these people in my womb.  I have looked in their eyes the moment they came into this world and have seen the face of God.  


All this, to bring you here: We NEED at some level to create.  I think because God made us in His image He designed us to design.  Made made us to make.  I think back on some of my most wonderful days and they all have a common thread.  They all have something that was made.  Making cookies with my Mom as a kid. Baking with my kids now.  Science projects, puppets made from brown paper bags, wrapping gifts, building sand castles, dinner parties, quiet cups of coffee.  They all have an element of creation.  


It has caused me to learn about myself today.  I need to make.  Need.  I feel stagnant if nothing new enters the picture.  I can see a pattern. It's fascinating really. I encourage you to see if that is missing in your daily life.  Is there something new at the end of your day.  Even if it's a grilled cheese sandwich.  Make something. See if it makes you happy.  Kindly report back.   

April Fool

I hate practical jokes.  I hate hidden camera tv that forces people into no win situations just to watch them squirm.  I hate confrontation in general so I think my distaste for it arises from there. You can imagine how much I enjoy a holiday dedicated to making people feel stupid.  Three cheers for the doofus who invented April Fools Day.  You truly are one, Sir. And let's be honest, it was totally a dude who invented this mess.  This is not a girl thing.

Having said this, I am noticing that I have subconsciously always worked to create something new and good on April 1st of every year. I rarely make a New Years resolution that sticks but for some reason, the things I wake up thinking on April1st seem to carry great weight in my mind and my heart.  Last year I woke up and decided, in my pajamas in front of the coffee pot, that i needed to loose 50 lbs.  To both be healthy and begin to feel good about myself again.  So I did it.  By June I had dropped 35 and on my birthday in September I was down 61lbs.  I still feel like I could go down another 20lbs to really feel like I have gotten the job done, but it's a heck of a good start. Perhaps today I will resolve to do that.

Yesterday, I was thinking.  Thinking, thinking, thinking.  My mind never shuts off.  I think it has an extra gear or two. I have so many thoughts in my head and I wanted to get them out.  I dream of someday writing a book and I will continue to hold fast to that dream.  That dream will take time, selfishness and solitude which I will not take away from the raising of my babies.  They deserve the best I have to offer, which most days is a 6, maybe 7, so I will not suck any extra of me away from them.  But one day when they are established human beings and have found their voice in the world I will feel safe to be selfish from time to time.  In the meantime, while life continues in 6th gear around me, I decided to blog. To get some of these extra thoughts out of my head to make room for new ones.  Different ones. Better ones maybe.  Who knows.

I bring to the blogesphere the "knowledge" a mother of four, the tips and techniques of a woman quite comfortable in the kitchen, the fears and fancies of a woman growing a small cake and confection business by total accident.  I bring the daily challenges of a Mom of nut/peanut allergy children,  I offer the struggles and triumphs of being a Conservative Christian in a world bent toward the alternative.  I bring an open and honest heart with a great deal of compassion and tolerance for the things I don't understand and a willingness to be still, to be quiet and to learn.  I don't bring a closed mind.  I bring the experiences of a wife, who has been blessed to have chosen not only the perfect man, but the best man.  I am a sister, a daughter, a friend.  A college graduate who chooses to stay home and be a Mommy. I bring the Jersey Shore, the real one....Snooki Free.  In a nutshell I bring insanity tied in a cute apron.  And frosting, there will be lots of frosting folks.

I'd be honored if you found anything I have to share relevant and useful.  I'd love if you sat down once in a while with a cup of coffee and had a laugh or a cry with me.  I'd like to get some of this stuff out of my brain and out into the world where it might be useful to someone and clear me up to take in new.  I think this is going to be like a yard sale.  Most of the stuff might be junk, but it's cheap.  There just might be a hidden treasure or two to be discovered.