And we begin….

Welcome to my page.

Here you will find my blogs, my laughter, my tears.

Sometimes I write out of joy, sometimes out of frustration, and sometimes I can’t explain my writing even if I tried.

Feel free to leave your thoughts or let yourself be inspired. Life is too short to hold back. 

Happy reading.


Today.

Today I heard a tale of woe about a woman who confided to her online mom’s group about “intrusive thoughts” she had about her baby. Intrusive meaning uninvited. We all have uninvited thoughts.

This woman did what most of us don’t have the courage to do, she spoke up. However, a mandated reported had to alert the authorities and now CPS is going to make it’s way to her house.

I don’t have an opinion on that. Facts and laws are facts and laws.

Here’s where my opinion is lying…. her bravery. Her courageous and beautifully bold bravery where she spoke of dark thoughts openly and publicly. All she wanted was advice. She wanted to know she wasn’t alone.

You aren’t alone.

I might not have advice to give you, but I am inspired by you.

She doesn’t know me. I don’t know her. She will never read this. And that’s okay. The moral of this story, and so many like it, are you never know the impact you have on someone. You never know who is sitting at their kitchen table blogging about a stranger who she read about. It could be you.

So be great. Be bold. Be daring. Be truthful, painfully truthful. Smile. Laugh. Cry. Someone out there needs you to simply be you.


My 4 week roller coaster.

This is my yoga journey. Written and directed by yours truly.

I decided I wanted to embark upon a new journey. One that would bring me peace while engaging my stiff limbs. Yoga sounded perfect.

I am a quitter. I’d love to tell you I’m not, but I am. I once played Candy Crush. I made it through several levels before I couldn’t pass a level. I never played it again. I quit softball, ballet, violin, and several other hobbies. I don’t like conflict. I don’t like being pushed. Knowing this about myself, getting a yoga membership wasn’t going to be my strategy. I’d simply not go. Like gym memberships of the past. Instead, I needed a trainer. Someone who would come to my house and get me moving and motivated. They say (who is “they”? I don’t know either) it takes 3 weeks to form a habit. Great. I’m going for 4 weeks then.

My search began. I received many referrals to yoga instructors who would be willing to be apart of chapter 1 of my yoga story. I talked to several different people and each had a different story to tell of their own. Every message and call felt like a connection, I knew it would be a hard decision.

Then I found her. I found the one. Her name is Emily.

We decided on meeting at my house Monday-Thursday from 5:30-6am (which turned into 5:30-6:15am and I was 100% okay with that). Friday would be my day to practice on my own.

The weekend proceeding my first day I bought a yoga mat. Of course I looked for an orange one and to my disappointment I could not find one. At least not in my price range. I settled on bright turquoise.

Week one-

Day one: Here we go! I am so excited! I can do this. I’m going to make yoga my bitch.

Day two: I am so sore. Yoga is hard. People make it look easy. I currently hate those people.

Day three: Yup, still sore. I am 8 inches away from touching my toes. Was I ever able to touch my toes?

Day four: I am incredibly sore, but I haven’t had a headache all week (I’m typically plagued with 2-3 a week). I’ve also felt a greater sense of strength and confidence. Is this really working? My digestive system seems to be working better as well. It can’t be this easy to rid myself of stomach pains and headaches, can it?

Day five: Here I go… all on my own… she wrote down what to do… I wonder if this pose is right? I’m losing focus quick… how do I do this again? Oh man, this sucks alone. I lasted maybe 10 minutes.

Week two-

Day one: This is getting a little bit more enjoyable, although I don’t think I’m any better than last week.

Day two: I think I really like yoga. I’m ready to take this on! I can pretty much conquer the world right now.

Day three: Tried new positions. Loved new positions. Yoga rocks!

Day four: I am ridiculously sore. Like, ouch. Yoga sucks. I hate yoga. In fact, I will continue on my 4 weeks and then never do yoga again. I hate yoga. Like, hate it. I can’t even begin to tell you how horrific it is. I cannot wait to be done.

Day five: I lasted alone 4 minutes. Maybe Jason should wake up early with me on Friday’s for yoga. I still hate yoga and cannot wait to be done with it. I suck at it. I need a new hobby.

(over the weekend purchases- hot yoga towel, new yoga outfit, sweat band, yoga block)

Week 3-

Day one: Did hot yoga instead for a change. Oh. Em. Gee. (more details below)

Day two: I am never going to be as good as anyone else. I can’t bend. My poses look horrible by comparison. Why does my body hate me? When I’m laying on my back I cannot even straighten out my legs high (think of an L shape). This is unfair and stupid. Yoga is stupid.

Day three: When will I get over this mental block of not being good enough? When will I accept my body for what it can do, instead of beating myself up for what it can’t do? This is far more mentally and emotionally challenging than I would have ever imagined. I want to give up, but I refuse to allow that to happen.

Day four: Today was good. I felt good. I felt powerful. This sure is a rollercoaster of emotions! Emily once told me, it’s not about touching my toes… it’s about my journey on the way down. She reminded me today that even 5 minutes of yoga a day is better than 5 minutes of sitting down. She reminded me that strength was more than being strong and muscular. I feel like I’m on the road I’ve been looking for.

Day five: Doing yoga alone is boring. I’m not to that point yet. I need a buddy system.

On Saturday I went to hot yoga again, except this time in the morning. I quickly learned I prefer it at night. I was wiped out all day, and had a migraine. At least at night I can sleep through those hours of hell.

Week 4-

Day one: I am excited to do yoga. It feels like it’s all coming together. Finally. FINALLY!!!

Day two: I am nowhere near ready for this to end. I’m over the hump of starting, and I’m ready to keep going! Yoga feels great! I actually practice the breathing and mantra’s while I am work if I get stressed. I’m sad this is coming to a close. Practicing at 5:30am is really what works best for my schedule, yet I can’t get myself to do it alone. That’s one hump I can’t seem to get past. I need a neighbor/yoga buddy who also wants to practice yoga at 5:30am. That’s a rare, if not impossible, find. I might have to give that dream up.

Day three: Another great day! I even went to the gym on my lunch and worked on my arms so my planks are easier for me. I feel so motivated, I wish I could bottle the energy up!

Day four: I think I am too saddened by this month coming to a close to really pay attention. I wish this could be how I started out every day. Emily is an incredible teacher and I’ve come to really enjoy our time together and the peaceful energy that surrounds her. I’m starting to like yoga and now it’s ending. Today I said so long to my mornings with Emily, although we decided to still get together once a month or so to practice together. That gives me a little motivation to keep going since that holds me a bit accountable. This has been an incredible way to start each day and it’s a gift I’ll treasure for a long time.

Extras:

Hot yoga: I thought to myself, I can do this. I can do yoga in the heat. That’s all it is after all, right? Wrong. First, I had to drink water all day. I probably drank around 100 ounces. I was peeing every 30 minutes like I hadn’t peed all day long. I definitely depleted my body of important minerals and next time I’ll drink a couple sports drinks too and eat a banana (I did research, of course after the hot yoga). Many of the positions were familiar, but you have to balance in a new way because you are dripping wet with sweat. We aren’t talking about a good sweat that we’ve all had from time to time. We’re talking about you might as well be in the shower because you are drenched. I laid down a lot. I participated in probably 25% of the class. I am 100% okay with that. I’ll definitely try it again and I’d be interested in going once a week. My skin felt amazing the next day, my dead skin literally melted off (you could see and feeling it, EW!), and it was wonderfully detoxifying. However, my head was pounding afterwards. Like, P-O-U-N-D-I-N-G! That’s how I knew I drank too much water. The headache is common and has been deemed the “hot yoga headache”. It might be awhile before my body can tolerate the hot yoga enough to not hurt my head, but I’ll get there, supposedly. I’d say the heat was the worst, but quite honestly it was the cold that came after. I left yoga hot and sweaty and about 15 minutes into the car ride my body temperature returned to normal, and the rest of me instantly realized I was wearing only a tank top and shorts while covered in cold sweat. I was instantly FREEZING!!! I came home shivering and quickly got into a ridiculously hot shower. I stayed in the shower far longer than I needed to. I thought I was never going to warm up. But I did.

Reading: Here is an article I love to circle back to as it keeps me grounded and in reality. Although, I seem to only read it when I don’t need it, of course.

http://breakingmuscle.com/yoga/its-called-yoga-practice-reason

Driving: I’ve realized that after classes I need to sit in my car for a few minutes before driving. I’m at such peace that my focus isn’t all there. It feels very surreal to be driving with my mind not all the way in focus. That can’t be safe.

Twist: I bought another yoga deal at another yoga studio to try out. At this point I’ve gone to 2 classes. One was more about breathing and stretching and the other was very challenging for me. I benefited from both and I can see why people would go to different classes. There’s truly something to gain no matter what.

Encouragement: I had to leave this here…. There’s no way I could read it and delete it. Clearly Jason read my blog while it was in progress as I was writing along the way, and decided to write as me J (which was highly confusing at first because it kinda sorta sounded like me at the beginning but I didn’t remember writing it)

Week 4

Day one- I’ve been amazingly strong thru all of this. I have sacrificed sleep to do Yoga every single morning. Despite not being able to touch my toes I can honestly admit that I feel more energetic, that my digestion has been improved and my headaches are less frequent and more mild in nature. I can admit that I cannot do this alone and Emily has been a perfect trainer for me. I will continue to make this an important piece of my life as I want to live to be an active old lady with Jason and my future grandchildren.   … I love you honey and I’m so incredible proud of you!

The end: That’s it. There you have it. My 4 week journey of yoga. It’s hard, especially for someone like me with perfectionist tendencies. I don’t know how to not beat myself up if I can’t do something right the first time. But alas, that subject is for another day. For now I will simply close this by reminding us all… Yoga is not about touching your toes, it’s about what you learn on the way down.

Namaste.


My daughters are my teachers.

So often I learn a life lesson from one of my children. Their take on the world, their innocence, and their fresh slate make their perceptions ones that I don’t have the ability to see. I know the cruelties of the world. I know the harshness of actions and mean people. I’m often bitter, judgmental, and prepared for the worst.

Because I’m 20+ years older than they are, I also think I have the answers.

Sometimes I am wrong.

Over a year ago I wrote a blog about my concerns regarding Savannah’s “friends”. The ones I’m referring to are friends she doesn’t know IRL <– (that’s In Real Life… yeah… I’m cool… I know the lingo)

Anyways, I couldn’t grasp the concept that she could feel connected to people she has never met. In my day (eek, did I really just say that?!) your friends were kids from your neighborhood, school, church, sports, and cousins. Sometimes even your cousins friends. You knew what each other looked like. You could pick one another out from a crowd. You knew their style of clothing, what their voice sounded like, and you hung out together in the same room.

Technology has changed that. Savannah meets more kids online than IRL. It’s easy to hop into a chat room type of place that is tailored for a passion. She can go online and meet kids who like Invader Zin within a couple minutes. IRL you’d have to actually dig this information out of another person. Technology has unfortunately also hindered this upcoming generation from these conversation skills. However, that’s a different rant for a different day. back on track we go!

This concept truly concerned me, mostly because I didn’t understand it. That idea is foreign to me. How in the world can you be friends with someone you don’t actually know.

Fast forward several months and now I ask you this. Does the word “know” (in this context) really equal “know in real life”? Or, is there something deeper here we could be missing?

Yesterday I attempted to gather my invite list that Jason asked me for in regards to my upcoming birthday. There are a couple people on that list that I have never met IRL. It dawned on me. Savannah was right. She knew at 10 something I didn’t learn until almost 35. Being in the same room doesn’t make you friends. A common ground does. An appreciation for the same humor. A shared interest. That’s what a connection is.

Thank you child of mine.

I’m beyond blessed to have children exploring this world in ways that are alien to me. They aren’t scared and they don’t do things based on my interest, experience, understandings, and values. They are their own individual personalities and they are out there making their way based upon their own gut, hopes, heart, and dreams. I’m even more thankful that I have my eyes open to the possibilities of all they have to teach me along the way. The journey is ours together and I couldn’t be more excited for it.


Fake vs. Polite

Hi blog followers… all 2 or 3 of you. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed blogging. it’s been far too long! 

I wanted to focus today’s blog on something near and dear to my heart… me. Hahaha, well, kind of.

Recently I was put into a conversation with a woman who does not like me and has no problem telling me so. It was harsh, hurtful, embarrassing, and devastating. She doesn’t like me because of my perky personality, which, i don’t think of myself as perky, but okay. Even she’s entitled to her opinion I suppose.

This event lead to other conversations, one in which I was told that my “continually upbeat personality can come across as fake”. Damn. That sucks. But I was appreciative of the honesty. 

Am I a happy person? Yes, I think so. I hope so. I’ve paid a lot of money in therapy bills to get to this point.

People, I’m not fake!!! I really am happy. I really am excited. I really do get giddy over stupid things. I’m not fake. Just because I save my dark hours for my alone time, doesn’t make me fake. It makes me closed off. It makes me guarded. Take it or leave it, I simply don’t want to share that part of me. I can’t imagine that makes me fake.

I have a friend that I have a problem with. Am I going to tell her? No. Are we going to discuss my issue? No. Because it’s MY issue, I don’t need to make it HER issue. I’ll get over it. Why bring it up? I’ll hurt her feelings. I could hurt our friendship. It’s not worth it to me. Instead, I’ll continue to love her endlessly, because I do, and I’ll keep my icky feelings to myself. I can’t imagine that makes me fake either. In fact, I think it only makes me polite. Maybe even respectful. Or, possibly delusional. 

Every ugly opinion in the world doesn’t have to be shared. Shocking, I know.

I don’t talk about a lot of things that upset me. I used to, and I got judged for my opinions. Sometimes my opinions hurt people I love and that hurts me. I’m a peacekeeper by nature and personality. I don’t like to stir the pot. That doesn’t make me fake either, that’s my actual personality. I am making the cognizant choice to keep certain opinions to myself. Not fake. Just me. 

Why am I almost 35 and this is still an issue? Why haven’t I reached a chapter in life where girls can just accept each other, love each other, and give up the name calling? Yes, even calling me “fake” is name calling and hurtful. 

My mom taught me “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” and I still believe in that. 

However, if you directly ask my opinion on something I will tell you my thoughts. Disclaimer: You might not like my opinion.

It’s hard to raise 2 daughters in such a harsh world. People are mean. For no reason. It really gets under my skin. I’m raising my daughters to NOT be mean girls, but it isn’t easy. Mean girls are everywhere. They’re influential and often magnetic. I wish i could guarentee my kids will never test out the “mean girl” personality, but I can’t promise the world that. I can only hope that they remain level headed girls who care enough about the world they live in to try to make it a better place.

I could ramble about this topic all day and night…. but I have David Tutera’s CELEBrations to watch. Love me some trashy reality tv 🙂

The end.

 


Parenting = Confusion

Parenting is like an unhealthy relationship. Sometimes it’s the one thing that makes you think you are losing your mind. You question yourself at all times. You walk on eggshells. You continuously love harder and deeper then the other person. You change yourself. You adapt. You cry…. a lot. And then all of a sudden, you have a moment/day/hour/tiny second that is so incredibly touching, you forget about all the bad leading up to it. You are on cloud nine and whistling to yourself. Life is made of sunshine and rainbows! Then, before you know it, you are back to feeling like the worst person who ever lived.

Yet, you are reminded you are a parent and this isn’t an unhealthy relationship. This is it. There’s no walking away. Take it or, take it.

The roller coaster ride that is parenting is the most painful and joyful experience the world may ever know. You are constantly guessing and completely unprepared for what lies ahead. However, we find ourselves embarking upon this journey full steam ahead generation after generation.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. More then I love life. More then I love giraffe’s, the color orange, and books. I think they are the most fascinating creatures to walk this Earth. I’m constantly in awe of them and I cannot get enough of their affection and laughter. What I don’t love is having a great evening with them only to be yelled at because I’m not good at helping with homework. I also don’t love all the cooking and cleaning. I’d do okay without being a chauffeur as well. What I don’t love most of all is giving into that anger inside of me and yelling back. Yeah, because a grown up yelling at a 9 year old who can’t do her homework is great. Nice. Way to go me.

I officially get the worst parent award right now.

I stay calm a lot. I swallow a lot more frustration then anyone around me is aware of. I get through the sisterly bickering and annoying each other. I don’t raise my voice with all the “why” questions. I don’t even snap back when my head gets bitten off each day by my teenager. WIth that said, I absolutely have zero/zilch/nada tolerance for that phase a child goes through where they “can’t” do their homework. They sigh, they stomp, they sigh more. Then, they ask for help they refuse to accept. If you are asking me for help and huffing and puffing because you “can’t” do it and you are going to fail… you probably will fail because I can’t talk someone off that ledge. I’m joining them instead.

That’s my weakness, my breaking point. I know it. I feel it coming and I know when I should be walking away from the situation (it’s about 2 seconds into the conversation, in case you were wondering). And unfortunately, I can’t avoid it. I must help with homework. That’s part of my job description.

All I can do instead is apologize to my beautiful princess for losing my patience, remind her I make mistakes too because I’m only human myself, hold myself accountable in hopes she learns to do that herself one day…. and email her teacher for homework assistance.


Hello rock, please meet hard spot.

I’m torn. So very torn.

So, like, I know this person… seriously, it’s not me. I know you thought that.

The person in question makes friends with people online. This is normal if you are into online gaming. It’s actually more normal then being friends with real life humans. I’ve talked to several gamers and ex-gamers about this. I’ve studied the topic. It’s normal. (yes, I’m saying it over and over continually trying to convince myself it’s normal)

This person truly enjoys these friendships and believes she… er…. he/she is creating actual friendships.

Fine, ok, it’s a she.

She laughs with these “friends” and shares stories with these “friends”. They communicate like actual friends. These are her “friends”.

She has never met them.

She never will.

Here’s where I’m torn.

1. What is these “friends” are really 50 year old creepy men just pretending to be a kid?

2. How can you honestly be friends if you have never met?

3. Why can’t she be friends this easy with real life people?

I don’t want to take this away from her (okay, I think we all know who the she is now). I want her to socialize in any way, shape, or form she feels comfortable with. I truly do. I’m happy she has found a place in this world where she feels she belongs. That’s every parents dream. Isolated kids who never feel as though they belong do not turn out well as adults.

But I do worry about my above numbered concerns.

I don’t know what’s best.

I’ve always said you’ll know you were a good/bad parent based upon how much counseling your kids need once they’re an adult. I can’t figure out if it’s best that I let her continue with these “friends” or take them away and hope she doesn’t resent me forever.

And that’s today’s rock and hard spot.


Rushed.

We exist in a world that is prepared for us to stay awhile, around 80 years in the United States. The oldest person on record is 122 years old.

Why is it then, we are in such a rush?

I walk slow, I just do. I don’t want to rush. It drives Jason crazy that I get up earlier then I need to. I simply want an easy morning, I don’t want to rush. There are very few times I can control not needing to rush, therefore, I don’t rush!

Kids are rushed to grow up. Not only by social media and peer pressure, but often times by their own families.

People rush to get married. I myself rushed to have children.

I know people who even rush through books. Books are supposed to be relaxing and enjoyable, it’s not a race! (ok, I do read the end first many times, but then I go back and read the book. I just hate the suspense!)

People rush to fall in love, then most of the time realize they fell in love with an idea, not a person. All because they were rushing in the first place. Then, they divorce and realize they are even more behind on their life goals.

Good things come to those who wait people! (yes, I’m guilty of rushing love in my past, thank goodness I’ve learned from those mistakes…. finally!)

People rush through career’s. Today I was discussing my career path at BSI and I was saying how a position I’d like would set me up in a good place in a few years and the other person said “Isn’t there a quicker way? Who thinks a few years out anymore?” Um… I do!

I have my whole life ahead of me. I don’t need to rush it.

People ask Jason and I when are we getting married. Thank God we are on the same page for that one. We aren’t rushing this. We laugh every single day. Literally. We long for each other. We’re only whole when we are together. We’re best friends. We’re partners. We’re happy. We don’t need to get married RIGHT NOW to make that happen. We’re already in an amazing place.

People are not only rushed, they are disconnected. Countless people (I used to be one of them) are on their phones when they should be engaged in conversation. But there’s this idea that you have to post on Facebook RIGHT AWAY. You have to text so-and-so back RIGHT AWAY. Heaven forbid we miss a beat. This is another form of rushing. People… the text will still be there. The picture to edit will wait for you. Twitter isn’t going anywhere (although I wish it would).

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not perfect. I’m definitely not preaching from my soap box here. I have to remind myself to slow down at times. I often catch myself rushing through something, most often food. Seriously, I eat really fast. Sometimes I rush through a glass of wine. I haven’t figured out if this is actually a problem though.

I don’t want to look back upon my life when I’m old and gray and wish I would have slowed down to enjoy it. I’d rather enjoy it now.

I will follow this post with some pictures. Enjoy them, don’t rush them.