Silver Linings, Pollyanna & Ice Skating

I try to enjoy the moment, really be in it and soak it up.  I like to be happy.  I like to laugh.  I like to dance.  I choose half-full, rose-colored everything and silver linings.  These are all very true, very real things about me.  

But there are other very true, very real things about me.  Like the fact that it can all be overwhelming. All the managing activities and kids and money and no money and a marriage and life and groceries and filling out that form and figuring out that puzzle and making all the right decisions and fixing all the wrong decisions and learning and living and loving and and communicating and worrying and Ahhhhhhhhh!

Sometimes I feel like I'm running on empty.
And sometimes like in the above picture I really am.

Sometimes my whole live-in-the-moment-hippie-wannabe-let's-just-dance-why-can't-we-all-get-along-and-love-each-other-we-need-to-laugh-and-dance-more self doesn't feel like a good fit for this busy, (over) scheduled, suburban life.  

And there's that whole where do I fit in with my kids getting older thing happening right now. I feel torn because I am enjoying so many parts of my kids getting older.  Lucy and I binge watched three episodes of Gilmore Girls on Netflix and painted each other's nails on Saturday night, how cool is that?  Peyton and I shared jokes about pop culture and Jesus on our way home from church yesterday, I mean you can't do that with a preschooler. But I if I'm being 100 percent honest, I miss playing a bigger, more cuddly-I-can-make-everything-better mom role.  Sometimes I miss filling up afternoons with painting projects and Disney movies. 
                           
Here's another very true thing about me--I do get overwhelmed, I cry, I get sad and mad and frustrated and anxious and emotional and a tiny bit hopeless, but it doesn't last long.  Because I have these great kids that want to keep moving and playing and learning and laughing and messing up and making up and learning and loving. And a great husband. 

This past Saturday, I was hating youth sports for taking away all my unstructured time and all of our extra money (which is laughable because there is no extra!). Tim came home from picking up one of the kids from practice and said "the pond is still frozen, we need to skate before Peyton's game tonight."  So we went skating.  We found time in between all the crazy schedules and have-to's and structure to play.  

A pick-up game of hockey in the park...it felt so organic and fabulous and unplanned and so unsuburban.  I loved it.

Lucy was the only girl and she was playing/skating hard. So proud.

The fresh air, being active, being together, being unstructured, feeling alive and like a family--it all renewed me.  It filled my glass back up to half-full.

It's hard for some people to understand.  My mother famously asked me why I had to be such a "fucking Pollyanna" years ago.  She's not really a fan of the whole rose-colored way of thinking.

But I like being happy. I like to laugh.  I like to dance (and skate).  I try to enjoy the moment, really be in it and soak it up.    I choose half-full, rose-colored everything and silver linings.  

It is true that I worry that my fucking Pollyanna ways have no place in this rushed, busy, overwhelming life.  But it is also true that I am going to try to find the joy in the unstructured moments and love my family and try to be better at planning and enjoying youth sports and communicating with my husband and not turning into a helicopter mom.  

Feeling the overwhelmed-ness and frustration and confusion and tiny bits of hopelessness, make the silver linings that much more silver.  The whole you have a little darkness to appreciate the light idea, I believe it.  

I have no answers about being happy all the time and figuring out my role with my older kids...no answers at all.  I just know that I will keep trying to enjoy the good moments and really be in them and soak them up.  And dance and skate and love as much as I can.

Six Months From Yesterday

Today I am sharing a cautionary tale.  A warning as we enter into the season of year-end reviews and moving on into the season of resolutions.  Today I would like to take a break from my constant Christmas blogging to talk about another very important holiday, my birthday.

No it's not the big day.  But six months from yesterday, it will be.

Six months from yesterday, I will be 40.
And that kind of freaks me out.  

Last June when I turned 39, I thought it would be fun to make a list of things I wanted to do in the last year of my third decade.  And all I have to say is....what the f*ck was I thinking? I must have had a lot of caffeine or had some kind of manic high the day I made the list.  I mean, because, well...just take a look:

In the past six months I haven't done any of these things.  I started number 34, but I only read about four chapters of the first Harry Potter book.  I'm almost completely on track to be an ultimate failure at my third decade bucket list.   To be fair, Loretta Lynn and Lenny Kravitz haven't had a concert anywhere near my city. 

Oh wait, I did accomplish something.  I totally did number 11.  I watched two seasons of Scandal.  Phew.  So sure, the show has made me lose faith in our government and really all human decency, but at least I accomplished something on my list.

That's the thing about bucket lists or resolutions right?  You have to be a little realistic or risk feeling like a total loser.  

Six months from yesterday, I will be 40.

And I'm kind of okay with that.

When I first re-looked at this list, my reaction was "you haven't done anything, you suck, go back to bed! Oh my god you can't even do that. waaaaa."  But who said I can't change my list to-39 Things To Do Before 50?  That's like so long from now, I will surely be a yoga practicing, French speaking, tatted up, viral video making chick by then.  I mean come on, for sure, right?

In all seriousness, isn't that the beauty of being 40?  Finally feeling like "wait a second, I'm a grown ass woman I can do what I want."  Forty to me is feeling like it might be a bit freeing, a little empowering.  And I am ready for a little freedom and empowerment.  Jesus, I might break out into a version of Sisters Are Doin It For Themselves any minute as I type this. 

Whether it's changing headers on my to-do/bucket lists or coming to terms with relationships that just can't be fixed or meaning it when I say I don't care that I can't afford Botox for my forehead lines or that when I get really tired I look like Gilbert Godfrey, I am feeling pretty good about 40.   

Not to go back to another 80s pop song reference, but you might say I have a new attitude like Patti LaBelle sang about a million years ago.  And yeah, I'm feeling good from my head to my shoes, know where I'm going and I know what to do, I've tidied up my point of view. Mmm-hmmm. 

On a sidenote, I used to have this record and I knew every single damn word of this song.  I would wear my mother's fuchsia heels and sing the hell out of it in my living room.

These songs are really dating me. But who cares, I'm owning it.  Six months from yesterday, I will be 40.  The moral of this story is: be kind to yourself, be realistic with your lists, be willing to change your attitude, and 40 isn't old.

Do you make bucket lists?  Are you loving 40? Do you love Patti LaBelle's song New Attitude as much as I still do?

Mud Puddles, What I Know For Sure & #iPPP

"Time to get up," Tim said yesterday nudging me.  He was leaving for work and it was time for me to take over the parent role.  Per usual, I was having trouble getting out of bed.  I used to be an early riser, but now that I stay up so late I sleep in...until 7 a.m. which is late in our house of predawn wakers.  "The kids are fighting and it's raining, again," he added.

His pep talk didn't make me want to get out of bed.  I wanted to stay in bed until summertime, until the sun is shining and school is out, until we aren't always in such a hurry.  It has rained everyday this week.  The clouds coupled with my inability to get a real handle on organizing our life made for a pretty sh*tty week.  

Whether it was struggling to get out of bed to greet the grey skies above or not finding any matching shoes for Wade to wear out of the house to setbacks in puppy training to fights with my husband, it was just all kinds of bleh.

One afternoon, I took the puppy out in the rain and waited for her to pee.  There I was standing in the rain, getting soaked, silently begging for her to just f-ing pee already and hoping that neither of us would get struck by lightening.  Because that would suck.  The headline would read "Grumpy Mother of Four Dies While Cursing At Her Puppy."   

I laughed at the absurdity of my thinking.  I looked around at my somewhat flooded backyard.  In between and around the muddy puddles the grass was a little greener.  There was hope amongst the mud puddles.  

My week was full of muddy puddles/muddy moments, but in between and around them were a few pretty good ones.  Whether it was the uber thoughtful and fun present a friend gave me or the simple fun of making gluten free Rice Krispie treats (picture the cute black and white commercials, awww that was us only gluten free and in color and maybe not as cute as the people on the commercial) or the return of Mad Men or having jump rope competitions in the living room while it rained, it wasn't all bad.

When life gives you mud puddles, read an e.e. cummings quote and get inspired to see the good, that I know for sure (this week).



Here's What Else I Know For Sure (This Week):

• Being the first one to laugh and have a little fun with a mistake can ease embarrassment. Like that time, a few days ago, when I went for a run with my pants on inside out. Yup. Didn't realize it until Tim pointed out my tag.

• Dancing keeps you young.  I hope I'm like this "Dancing Nana" in the video below.  You seriously should watch & skip ahead to the last 20 seconds if you don't have time.  Funny and I love her.

• Good neighbors make everything better.  We have been so lucky--in our last house our next door neighbors became lifelong friends that are like family and in our new house we hit the jackpot again.

I don't know if my kids would be so happy with the new house without our neighbors Grace, Sam and Julia.

• Sometimes being a mother can feel like you are a one woman army.  And this song by Kate Earl is the best theme song for those moments.  It's beautiful.  Enjoy.

• I got a ukulele and it's awesome. Oh my gosh, remember that time, a few paragraphs ago, when I told you my good friend got me a gift? Well, it was a ukulele and I am beyond happy.  One of my New Year's resolutions was to learn to play one.  So be prepared, this may not be the last time you hear about my awesome pink ukulele.

• Life is like a roller coaster, it's going to have beautiful moments, but it is going to be real f*#@ed up too.  That's the kind of brilliant, beautiful advice Patti Smith gives in the video below.

                        

• Subscribing to my YouTube channel will make you feel really good.  Okay, I don't know that for sure. But I know it would make me feel good and that's worth something right?  I'm so close to my May 1 goal of 50 subscribers,  I just need two more.  So, if you have a minute, click here and subscribe.  And thank you!!!!!!

• Matching shoes aren't so great. At least that's what I told Wade when I couldn't find matching shoes and had to put two different ones on him.  

What do you know for sure (this week)? C'mon, we're friends, share what you know.  Leave a comment here or on the Facebook page.

  Come play with me on Instagram @jumpingwithmyfingerscrossed.

I'm linking up today with my good buddy Greta from  Gfunkified.com and Sarah at SundaySpill.com for the #iPPP link up.  They host a link up where they encourage people to share "your funny, your yummy, your heartfelt, your favorite photos of the week" from our phones.  Check them out.

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Oh yeah, and come follow me on Twitter @AngelaYBlood and subscribe to my MomPulse YouTube channel here.

Quarantined

I have been stuck in the house for almost three full days now. (After last week with two other sick kids home and a bout of the stomach flu for me.)  

Quarantined with a sick child with spots all over his face.  You see, apparently Hand, Foot and Mouth disease can be more like Arm, Leg and Face disease.   Whatever you want to call it, Wade's got it and it ain't pretty.

After four children and 11 years of parenting, I dare say I am almost a veteran.  At least a toddler veteran.  I've been around the toddler block.  Sippy cups, potty training, toddler beds/big boy beds, pacifier addiction...you name it, I've been there.  Not to say I have any great advice, but I've been there.  And honestly, I'm not too shocked or surprised by anything.  Until this whole Hand, Foot, Mouth business.  

This virus which possibly has the worst name ever for a virus has never infected our household before. Doesn't it have the worst name?  I mean it sounds scary and medieval.  When really it's a fever and then spots.  Spots that don't itch, but just look really gross and kind of medieval.

So now, we sit and we wait.  

And Wade takes out every toy he sees in the house and throws it around the room for fun.

When he's bored throwing his toys, he actually sits quietly and plays with the utensils.  Because that's normal right?

And then Wade wrecks every LEGO set up his big brothers and sister made and thought they had hidden from him.

And then we wait some more.

We wait for the spots to go away.  We wait to go back to our normal lives.

Trying to be like a normal, nonspotty family, we sat down for a family dinner last night. We asked the kids about their day at school.  JT told us he had a test the next day.  We asked him what the test was going to be on and he said he couldn't remember.
"I am great at forgetting what people tell me," he declared.  He wasn't sad, he was more matter of fact.  He wasn't "man, I suck because I can't remember."  Of course I want him to know he's great at a lot of things in life, other than just forgetting, I also kind of love his attitude.

JT inspired me to rethink this whole quarantine.  Maybe it's all in the attitude.  Maybe it's all that glass half-full type of thinking that usually makes me want to roll my eyes.  Maybe it's not such a bad coping mechanism.

So instead of being stuck, I surrender.  I surrender to turning that frown upside down.  And you know what?  Just like JT's attitude, it's kind of great.

Instead of being stuck, I'm lucky that I get to spend the day with my little guy....  
Okay, no it still sucks.  But I tried.  I did.

I'm glad that kind of shit helps JT and it is very cute.  But it doesn't work for me.  I want the spots gone and I want to leave the house. 

He really is cute and I really am lucky to stay home with him.  I know it okay?  Here the cutie is using the untensil to "cut" his car, awww how sweet.

My first stop when I go out is to buy hand sanitizer and get a flu shot. 

The Lottery

Everyone is going lottery crazy as the Mega Millions rises to a record $500 million--at least according to that crazy liberal media.


I've never bought a lottery ticket.  I've never been to a casino.  It's not that I have any moral issue with it or religious stance against it or anything like that.  Not sure why I haven't.  Maybe because I'd rather spend my extra money on food and wine.  Maybe because I've never had a lot of extra money.  Maybe my addictive tendencies scare the hell out of me and I'm afraid I would lose all my money at the craps table.  And then end up borrowing from the creepy guy in the silk shirt and chains that I imagine hangs out at casinos.  Of course I would lose his money and then discover he's a mob guy and he then sends goons after me. I spend the rest of my life moving my kids from town to town changing our identities to escape from loan sharks and mob men.  Obviously, I've watched too much tv, but whatever.


I was always more of a dive bar with a great blues band kind of girl.  Or my absolute favorite thing was/is an outdoor concert, preferably at a small venue.


I don't go out anymore.  But I just might buy a lottery ticket.  I mean c'mon, $500 million. With that kind of money I could go all Oprah on your ass and buy everyone I love a car.  Of course, Biggie Smalls and Puffy's (back when Diddy was Puffy) song "Mo Money Mo Problems" is indeed running through my head.


And maybe now yours(seriously, push play while you read the rest.



My husband, Tim, is the kind of person that knows exactly what he would do if he won the lottery.  He has put a lot of thought into it.  He believes he has a shot.  Tim isn't a crazy spend-all-your-extra-money-on-lottery-tickets guy.  He is an optimist.

That's my man teaching Sunday school, even these kids are like
"player please, are you for real?"

When the mail comes he still gets excited, because something for him might be in there.  Yeah, like a million bills, ugh.


"I have never been depressed," he told me once.  He might as well have said there is no God and Southfork isn't as big as it looks on TV.


But that might be why we work so well.  If we both walked around comparing our bouts of depression who the hell would get the mail?


For 14 years we have worked pretty well.  Tim will tell me how he has it all figured out and that we'll be living the good life "when we win millions from the lottery."  And I tell him he's fucking crazy and that nothing will be okay, ever. See?  We're all good.


But maybe now I want a little of what he's having.  I want a sip out of the half-full glass of Kool-aid.  


Today, I will buy my first lottery ticket.  I will live in the realm of anything is possible and that everything might be okay.  And I will dream of buying everyone I love a car.