New Year, Same Ole Me?

It’s a New Year, and I've brought the same ole me to the party. I, of course, can pretend that I am going to make and keep some New Year’s Resolutions. I can tell myself I am going to eat those grapefruits I bought for breakfast instead of a bagel and cream cheese. I am going to use that free gym membership I won. I am going to finish my novel and get it published. Polish and submit those short stories sitting on my hard drive. I am going to get right to work each morning instead of wasting time on the Internet waiting for my coffee to kick in. (Actually, I am going to drink a NutriBullet smoothie each morning instead of coffee.) But by mid-January the excuses already start to pile up and I am ready for Girl Scout cookie sales to begin…

New Year, same ole me? Or, maybe it’s time to let go of past failures and excuses, stop simply wanting things and start doing?

A recent blog on Writersdigest.com by author Kerrie Flanagan talks about moving beyond want and start doing… As she says, there are so many things we want – to make them possible we need to stop wanting and start doing.

What will you DO in 2015?

This is the year, I will finish the novel and find an agent. I will invest time in my writing, have confidence in my abilities, and push through to the finish line.

There Is A Louse In My House #drasticmeasures #amNOTwriting

I've been behind on my NaNoWriMo word count but nothing a few word sprints couldn't solve… But, when you have three children, you never know what surprises might keep you from your plans. This time, it was lice.

Remember my blog post a while back titled "I Wasn't Prepared for THIS!"? Well, add lice to the list of things I did not think of when my children were just a twinkle in my eye. More specifically, the idea that I, at 38 years old, would be experiencing my first case of head lice.

For all of you out there who have not had the wonderful experience of head lice in 2014 – it is not like in the 80s when a treatment of Nix would knock those suckers, eggs and all, out of the park. No, those of us inclined to put pesticides in our hair will soon learn that these lice are immune to it. So, in a word, it’s useless. A fine tooth comb and some time (HOURS A DAY) to sift through your hair is really the only sure fire way. There are natural alternative on the market (like Fairytale Goodbye Lice), and certain shampoos (like Coal Tar Shampoo), certain conditioners (like Suave Coconut Conditioner), and good ol' fashion home remedies (like mayonnaise and saran wrap), plus blow drying and flat ironing. Ultimately, though, you still have to sit and pick those suckers out with a comb every single day. Which I've been doing. Not to mention all the laundry which is a completely separate blog post for me because as some of you know I have been using a Laundromat since March even though I have a fancy washer and dryer in my basement (we have gas/propane/plumbing issues that are going to be solved “any day now”).

Anywho, my excuse for not writing this week thus far is that I have been busy de-lousing. Going  slightly crazy as one does when fear of infestation takes over. One might say I went a little more than slightly crazy when I was alone picking through my long locks, imagining the lice taunting me like the mucus guy in those commercials: "We’re setting up shop in here! You’ll never find us in all these tangles!” That’s when I found myself reaching for the scissors….

Drastic times call for drastic measures

 Take that you lousy louse!

I have to admit it looks cute in a it-looks-like-you-cut-your-own-hair kind of way... More pictures to come (after I find a proper hair dresser to fix it and give me a good dye job). Now off to write (after another trip to the laundromat).

I Am Not Meant For This!

     After I put my youngest on the bus, I surveyed the disaster that my children left in their wake, got down on my knees and cried out “I am not meant for this sh$t!” Then my dog put his stinky muzzle in my face, licked the lone tear, and hacked something on my cheek.

    Hopefully, it was the lack of sleep that made me question the 10 years I have spent doing exactly this shit. See, the night before my husband and I were sleeping in our usual positions – on opposite edges of the mattress with our five year old sprawled perpendicular between us – when our son wakes us with the declaration, “I peed myself.” We dutifully sent him off to change and wash his hands while we inched further away from the middle lest the pee touch us whispering blame: Did you make sure he peed before bed? Did you let him have something to drink before bed? You have to actually watch him pee because he lies. Maybe you shouldn't have given him that fourth juice box. The boy returned, crawled into my arms and fell back asleep cradled over the edge of the bed. Me, watching the clock until it was time to go downstairs and make breakfast and lunches, dreading the choices: cereal is processed and has too much sugar; oatmeal but not the instant because that too is processed and has too much sugar; or eggs but only the free range ones from a local farm otherwise the chickens most likely were caged up cannibals injected with antibiotics and hormones. And, for lunch: do I use whole wheat bread or does that have too much gluten? Am I allowed to use peanut butter or is the kid sitting next to my daughter going to go into anaphylactic shock? How about hazelnut, is that actually a nut? 

     Sleep deprivation aside, if I am not meant to do this shit, what am I meant to do? And, why is it that I can’t seem to manage to do the same shit that women were doing for centuries before me? What is my excuse? 

     Logically, I can blame my mother. Maybe she, in the post-feminist world, didn't feel it necessary to prepare me for this shit so logically when I am faced with the conundrums: how do I make this from scratch; how do I iron that; how do I sew this; how do I clean that? The answer is: I don’t f'ing know. And neither does she! So maybe that means I blame her mother or her mother’s mother. Maybe for generations women have been whispering into their baby girls' ears: “You are not meant for this shit.” 

     Now what? Who’s going to do this shit? Are we turning into a generation of stay at home moms that send their two year olds to school because we don’t know what to do with them; send the laundry and the mending out; hire cleaning ladies; cook all our meals with a box, 2 cups of water and a microwave? And, if we absolve ourselves from all activities that were once meant for women, do we then absolve our husbands – are they no longer obligated to fix our cars; mow our lawns; pay our bills? And, if so, what are we all going to do – sit around watching Netflix? Piddling around with novels while really just reading articles posted to Facebook?

     Maybe we just have too much shit to do. Do our kids really have to wear something cute and unique every single day? Does that cute outfit then have to immediately be stain-treated, washed, and folded neatly in the drawer with 20 other cute and unique outfits? Do they have to be in every sport offered per season plus piano lessons, art classes, and Sunday school? Do we have to seek out BFFs for them and make sure to jam-pack free time with playdates so they never feel unpopular at school? 

     Or, maybe, I really am just tired. Maybe I’ll change the pee sheets, take a nap, take a shower, bake those homemade sugar-free, gluten-free, peanut-free muffins I found on Pinterest and feel like supermom by the time the kindergarten bus rolls in... (Or, search for the recipe, get distracted by an article about the Kardashian's until my son's school bus is sitting out front honking at me.).

The Week That Wasn’t

Apparently Fall is emerging all around me: the temperature is dropping; the trees are changing colors; and Halloween is fast approaching. Last week I missed Fall unfolding itself right in front of me because I was in my own world. A world where corporations suspend production, where hundreds of jobs are lost, where resumes are updated, and words like “relocation” are thrown around. This is a world I had no intention of being in but there I was – life is fun like that.

I tell myself not to stress about things I can’t control. I tell myself things will work out the way they are supposed to. And I believe it, too. I know that our family will survive the closing of my husband’s workplace. That he will find another job in the area quickly and we won’t have to move. Or, maybe, there will be a company that swoops in at the last second to purchase the plant and continue production.

There is nothing I can do, really, except help my husband update his resume.  My life pretty much stays the same for the moment – I still have the same chores, the same laundry, and the same ever-surmounting to-do list. Therefore, the only logical thing for me to do with my time is to imagine how things will play out. To research the state, the city, the school district, the neighborhood, and the very house that we could live in.

So while things were piling up all around me like the fall leaves outside, I was busy playing with the Realtor app on my phone. Not the best use of my time, but it was cathartic and kind of fun….

It was almost like last week didn't even exist. Last week was the week that wasn't. So, back to reality this week! Back to using my time productively (or at least trying to). Back to using my imagination to write stories (since that’s my goal, right?)! Failing that, I have a new book to read – Allegiant (Divergent Trilogy)comes out today – yay!

Kindness Confession

I hoard kindness like a skilled card player – I put on my poker face and keep it close to my chest. I play my other cards more freely – sarcasm, whit, frustration, outrage, bias, indifference – I throw them out there whenever I want. But kindness needs to be played more strategically; when you play that card says a lot about you:

Play the kindness-card too soon, you’re too nice/boring/desperate. Play it at the wrong time, you've overstepped your boundaries. Play it too often, you’re clearly naive. Play it on the wrong person, you’re stupid. Play it on the undeserving, you’re gullible. Play it on a foe, you’re a coward.

Why? Why would I allow all my insecurities, prejudices and preconceived notions hinder me from simply being kind? Why would I stop myself from even smiling and saying hello to someone? At the end of it all am I going to rip the kindness card from my grip, hold it up high and declare, “Look! Look how much kindness I saved until the end!”? Certainly not. No, I will regret all the chances for kindness I missed and all the times I was outright unkind.

I knew there’d be a Bible verse on kindness, since that was kind of Jesus’ thing. So, even though I am not the bible-versing type, I decided to Google it. The verse I like best actually comes from the Old Testament, Proverbs 3:3 (being wise was Solomon’s thing):

          “Don't ever forget kindness and truth. Wear them like a necklace. Write them on your heart as if on a tablet.”

The signature line of an email I received recently contained a quote:

          “Be kinder than necessary…”

What wise words! What a wonderful way to live. Not just be kind – but be kinder than necessary.

I think I feel a new mantra coming on….

It's In My Purse

Hello my dear brave blog readers. Today I am going to take you to a place few dare to go. A place even my husband refuses to enter (for fear he may put his hand into a half-eaten jelly sandwich, pulverized goldfish, or an unwrapped tampon). I am going to take you into my pocket book. Please take appropriate precautions – rubber gloves, hazmat suit, etc….

See, it is time to change purses. And, in the spirit of self-deprecating and humorous excuse-airing I have decided to share this momentous occasion with you. Because, dare I say it, my pocket book is probably some metaphor for my life although, lucky for you, I’m not really going to analyze the meaning now. Instead, I’m just gonna dump it out here on the table so you can have a good laugh at my expense:

1. A church bulletin. 
2. 2 sided 8 x 11 florescent green sheet on Daniel 4 and King Nebuchadnezzar’s pathway from pride of self to praise of God and how we too can do this. 
3. A Thank you card.
4. A receipt for Marshall’s.
5. A letter from my son’s preschool dated May 23rd. 
6. 3 ripped ticket stubs for dance recital dated May 25th and the envelope for the tickets.
7. 5 x 7 of my daughter that I purchased at her dance recital.
8. 2 loose Express gift cards I received on Mother’s Day and the two card holders they came on.
9. Business cards for my local moms club as well as my own personal business cards. 
10. My cellphone.
11. My wallet.
12. Two of my children’s wallets.
13. A wallet containing all my shoppers-club cards.
14. My camera.
15. My Kindle.
16. Large book light received as a free gift from Writer’s Digest books circa 1999.  
17. 1 used tissue. 2 pieces of toilet paper. And one questionable paper towel.
18. 2 almost-dry Sharpies.
19. 1 yellow highlighter and 1 uncapped blue highlighter.
20. 2 pens, 1 dissembled pen and 2 pencils.
21. My daughter’s inhalers.
22. A Pepcid tablet for my dog.
23. A travel toothbrush.
24. Hand sanitizer.
25. Sunglasses.
26. A pony tail holder.
27. An 80 piece bag of gum.
28. A bank lollipop.
29. And the trash from 2 lollipops, 1 piece of gum, and a granola bar.
30. My car keys.
31. Some sort of doohickey that I keep forgetting to ask the kids if they know what it belongs to.

There you have it folks, a quick peek into my scatter-brain disorganized world. In the interest of full disclosure, I will have you know that I cleaned out my purse last Saturday between Acts at my daughter’s recital.

I Used To Be The Best Mom

I used to be the best mom. I used to do everything right. It was so effortless -- I followed my instinct or, when that failed, I followed the advice of an expert which would work perfectly because they were the experts and I was nothing but a mom in the trenches.

I look back on those days of my perfection fondly...

When everything was sterile, controlled, mess-free.

The days when my children napped in their beds according to the schedule I put them on. They nursed every two hours, exactly 20 minutes per side.

At night, they would stir to nurse at the same regularity  I would lift them gently out of their beautiful bassinet, nurse, then gently place them back in -- never falling asleep with them in bed because that could be dangerous. My children never co-slept with us -- for the dangers as well as the boundary issues.  

I used only cloth diapers. My babies never drank cows milk. I made my own baby food.

They certainly never had candy, junk food, juice boxes, or happy meals. It was all organic whole foods for us.

None of my children spent time in front of the TV or other electronics. We spent our time doing educational activities and crafts. My children embraced puzzles, games, crafts, writing. Their toys, always gender neutral, never included weapons.

I never yelled at my children because they respected my authority and listened when first requested. Failing that, I had a system of positive and negative reinforcement. I never needed to resort to punishment. I remember those days fondly. I remember when I was the best mom. Then, of course, I had children.

And now I am just a mom doing my best like all the rest. Hope you had a wonderful mother's day.

Just Need a Little Bit of Perspective

We all need a little perspective. Some of us, like me, more than others. That is one of the reasons I came up with the idea for this blog over two years ago. My idea was to make a slightly humorous, highly self-deprecating, and somewhat tongue in cheek blog about how I let all life’s little things keep me from seeing the big picture and keep me from living the life I really want to live.

I resisted actually beginning this blog because I was afraid that writing a blog such as this would be a waste of time. I want to be a fiction writer – novels, short stories, etc. - where does writing trivial essays on life fit into this goal? But the idea kept nagging me, the blog posts kept writing themselves, and people kept suggesting it. So, a few years later, here we are!

Around two weeks after my blogging debut, Hurricane Sandy came banging on our door. As the wind rattled my office windows and the rain dripped ever so slightly into my basement, I sat on my computer in my well-lit office writing a blog entry on how I scrambled to prepare for Sandy but she did very little but force my family to remain inside and spend some time together. Minutes after I posted my entry, our electricity went out for a few hours.  This was the extent of our damage.

While I was cuddling up with the kids on the sleep sofa, families north of us were losing their homes to wind, fallen trees, floods and fire. While my husband and I worried about a trickle of rain coming in our house, my beloved Jersey shore was under water.  While people in Sea Isle City are renovating their first floors, people in Sea Side Heights are rebuilding homes. While people down the shore are evaluating the damage to their vacation homes, people outside New York City lost everything – everything they've ever had, gone. While people are taking stock of all the processions they lost, some people have lost their lives. It is all about perspective.

I had another momentarily lapse in perspective just a few short days later on Wednesday, October 31st. Our town had already decided to post-pone Halloween to Saturday, a decision both the kids and I were happy with. While I was busy planning a fun-filled Saturday Halloween, Governor Christie mandated that the entire state of New Jersey post-pone Halloween until Monday. I didn’t even know a Governor COULD or WOULD do that? Didn’t he trust the municipalities to make that decision? And on and on I ranted to my kids (who could have cared less), to my family on the phone, to my friends through email, and on Facebook. Big mistake! Immediately, I was put in my place and rightly so because, after all, does it really matter when Halloween is? 

People lost everything. Some New Jersey towns still couldn’t Trick or Treat come Monday. Some Trick or Treated this past weekend. Some will not be Trick or Treating at all this year. Furthermore, what about the people that struggle every year on Halloween – struggle to find the extra money for costumes and candy?  All I can do is be grateful for what I have, pray for those that struggle, and offer assistance wherever I can. And always try to remember to keep things in perspective.