My Ohio State Moment That Gets Me Through Tough Times

What's your "nope" moment? How do you cope with stuff?

Being new to stuff is hard. Being new to stuff as an older woman is harder. I'm the new "girl" at my jobs but I'm so old. When I get feedback or criticism, I want to tell my bosses that I used to be somebody pretty important. I mean if only they could talk to my clients, they would know how stellar I used to be in my former job. Only problem is my former job is a stay-at-home mom and society kind of slow claps at that one. And ever since my clients' hormones kicked in they kind of hate me and probably wouldn't give me a good review anyway (unless I bribed them with Frappuccinos and promising not to read their text messages or follow them on Instagram).

I wish I could be more confident and feel more important and smart. I mean oh great, I'm emotionally intelligent and self-aware, I'm empathetic. I'm spontaneous. Cue more slow clapping. I am also scattered and unorganized and late-ish and did I mention unorganized. And just a tad oversensitive. New jobs and new routines and bitchy teenagers who think I'm incredibly annoying are swirling together with newish perimenopause hormones and extreme exhaustion to create a perfect storm of chaos and self-doubt.

Over the last year and a half, I've struggled to find my footing, and figure out how to be a working mother and a mother to teenagers and a woman with perimenopause and possibly some pretty serious undiagnosed ADHD (duh right?) and ahhhhhh. Mostly what I have figured out is that I really struggle with too much on my plate, meditation doesn't solve everything for me, there aren't enough hours in the day, teenagers are frustrating and maybe most surprising is that I got a somewhat effective coping skill from an Ohio State football player.

A few years ago, I was watching the University of Michigan play football against Ohio State. An Ohio State player got ejected from the game for some reason. As he was walking out the stadium he held both arms straight up in the air, dropped his head, and boldly stuck both his middle fingers up to the crowd. At first I was horrified, but then not so much. In fact that player, whose name I don't even remember, has become my go-to coping skill.

Here's the thing, I don't stand up in the middle of a meeting or at my freelance job writing for a credit union flipping everyone off, but I secretly think about it sometimes. If I am at home and my teenagers are barely looking up from their phones and when they do they complain about something, I secretly think about it. Or when people are being mean to each other in a store, I think about it. Or when the news is on or when Tim and I bicker or when there's too much of anything, I think about it. And then I feel like laughing a little bit. Because seriously, can you imagine?

It's a big "nope, I'm out, this sucks, I'm not gonna take it anymore, take this job and shove it" kind of move and I love thinking about it every now and then.

That's all I've got right now. I mean sure there's all that very important self-care stuff, remembering not to take things too personally, scaling back on responsibilities and jobs, more meditation and dancing.

My sister took me to a nail salon and paid for me to have a pedicure.  It was my first pedicure in 12 years. It was ridiculously awesome. I apologized to Gina, the woman doing my pedicure, and she joked that she should charge more because my feet were so bad. Thanks Gina. Actually Gina was full of good self-care advice and reminded me that it's not about money, it's about taking care of myself. I reminded Gina that I was just visiting the area and she stopped plugging her salon.
But some of her advice stuck with me. I do need to take care of myself a little better, you know so I don't flip everyone off for real one day. 

But there's also the ultimate "nope" visual that reminds me when I need to take a step back and take a deep breath and try to remember that my skill-set is valuable to someone somewhere and that my clients will mellow out in a few years, along with my perimenopause. Maybe I'll get the hang of things at my jobs and parenting teenagers and life balance and maybe I won't. But I'll keep trying and keep holding a special place in my heart for that Ohio State player that inspired my very immature and inappropriate coping skill that is totally getting me through messy moments and parts of the holidays right now.

Being Over 40

Today I am officially over 40. That's right, today I'm 41. Last year I celebrated the big 4-0 with great gusto. I loved everything about turning 40. I was all I own my age and wrinkles and pantylines. I know who I am and I don't need anyone to be okay with it. I was loud and proud. Today however, I'm all eh, yeah, I'm 41 and I'm okay with it.

Here's the thing, I thought I was at this place in life where I knew who I was for good. I pictured myself standing on top of a ship stretching my arms out embracing the world and the future and my place in it like I was Kate Winslet's character in Titanic. My husband, Tim, would play the role of Leonardo DiCaprio's character (Tim is a year younger than me and a bit boyish so I think it's pretty good casting). In my vision, he would stand behind me and maybe rest his chin on my shoulder.  He'd look at me like that's right baby you got this and I love you forever and our life is going to be amazing because you know who you are and we are in love. Ahhhhhh.

Here's the other thing, I hate that movie--it's about a sinking ship! I don't want my life analogy to be a movie about a sinking ship. I mean what the hell? AND I now realize that my idea of turning 40 and knowing who I was didn't mean that I'm done figuring things out and changing my mind and making mistakes and repeating bad patterns and finding totally new adventures and different ways to look at things.

I ran a marathon when I was 36. I trained and lost a ton of weight. Well, I thought to myself, I guess I am a runner now and can eat whatever I want and be thin forever. Well, that's not how that went down at all. I hurt my knee and then my back, I gained weight and well, got older. But it didn't make me a failure. To quote a great older broad, Joy Behar (comedienne extraordinaire and former co host of The View) "So what, who cares?"  I mean maybe I'll run another marathon or maybe I will only do 5K runs forever. I love going for short runs right now, but maybe I won't in a few years. It's okay. Things change. A few years ago I proclaimed that "I hate dogs" and now I have two that I love in a crazy dog-lady kind of way.  I hated Coleslaw my whole life and couldn't figure out how in the world anyone would ever choose to eat it.  Well, on a whim I tried it last year and found out that I kind of love it so much.

Life can be surprising. It is ebbs and flows, highs and lows, good times and really sad, scary times all on repeat. So for today, the day I honor/celebrate/mark turning 41, I am not going to make any proclamations about who I am and always will be and stand on top of a sinking ship with my hunky husband. Nope. Today, I am just going to say that right now I am an anxious, curvy, dancey, mother of four kids (that keep getting taller and more interesting everyday); I'm a lover of sunshine and reality television and tonight I'm going to eat cake and celebrate being alive. 

It's my birthday & I'll dance in my kitchen if I want to! Here's to celebrating getting old (er) and wiser and sillier and here's to more days to dance in the kitchen together. #birthday #dancing #kitchendance

A video posted by Angela Youngblood (@jumpingwithmyfingerscrossed) on Jun 11, 2015 at 5:25am PDT

Here's what I know about being over 40

Here are a few things that make me feel old:

• When doctors are much younger than me.

• Anniversaries of John Hughes' movies. I want people to please stop telling me The Breakfast Club is 30 years old because whaaaat?

• The idea that I have children that are a couple years away from getting a driver's license.

• The fact that I choose sleep over so many other things now.

• And the fact that I don't mind talking about bloating and how to get more fiber in my diet.

• I don't know what channel MTV is.

• When the oldies channel on the radio plays music from the 1980s. Whaaaat?

Here are a few things that make me feel young:

• Wearing high pony tails. 

• Watching Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin kill it in their new Netlix comedy Grace & Frankie.

• The lady that got her doctorate at age 102. (Click here for the amazing story of Ingeborg Rapoport defending her thesis 77 years after the Nazis stopped her from doing it.)

• Bruce Jenner's decision to become Caitlyn at 65. 

• Betty White doing anything and everything.

• Dancing.

• Swinging. (On a swing not in my marriage. I had to add this disclaimer after someone said they thought Tim and I were swingers when she read my blog. Lol. I'm not judging because whatever makes you happy that just doesn't do it for me.)

• Still getting excited about the last day of school and fireworks and movie theaters and concerts.
• Laughing hard.

A Cliche--My New Tattoo

It happened! I got a new tattoo this week! It was actually my Mother's Day present...

This wasn't my first tattoo rodeo however.  When I was 21 I got a tattoo. I chose a very intricate design from a necklace I got in Ireland when I studied abroad for a semester. It was a Celtic symbol which meant everlasting life. I was a very spiritual and deep 21-year-old. When I got to the tattoo shop, they told me the design was so intricate that it would take a couple hours and a lot of money.  So instead, I flipped through the books on the counter picked a Chinese symbol that supposedly meant "To Enjoy One's Self" and slapped down my 40 bucks. I decided to have them tattoo the symbol on my back so no one could see it when I went on my very important job interviews after college graduation. I am sort of taking credit for possibly starting the "tramp stamp" trend.  Yes, I was maybe one of the very first tramps.  That sounds bad, I wasn't trampy, I was just stamped.  Oh you know what I mean, I got the tattoo on my lower back.  And then in the next five years thousands of drunk wannabe rebellious college girls got Chinese symbol tattoos on their lower backs.  I wasn't really a trend setter or a rebel, I was a cliche.

So here I am, an almost 41-year-old suburbanite minivan driving mom who wants a tattoo. I've actually wanted one for years. But according to what I see online, I'm sort of a cliche again. A middle-age woman gets a tattoo to show everyone she's not so old sort of thing I guess. Ugh. To fight the cliche and prove myself a true tattoo wanter/lover, I decided to get it somewhere totally visible. I'm not going to try and hide this one (and I always hated that I couldn't see my own tattoo).

I asked around for some tattoo referrals and found a pretty fancy shop in my town. There were no burly dudes smoking cigarettes at the front desk like the place I went to 20 years ago. No, this place was posh and smelled of incense and very cool looking pierced, tattooed people worked the front desk. They set up a 'design consultation' and explained that after I felt comfortable with the artwork I would set up my tattoo appointment.  It was all very grown up and mature.

After my consult with my artist, Steve, I set up my appointment for last Friday. Then my world sort of blew up and Peyton got his concussion and spent the night in the hospital and ahhhhh. So, over the weekend I called to reschedule my tattoo.  At first the woman at the front desk was annoyed that I had cancelled but then when I told her about my boy's injury, she cooled off.  Actually we talked for a while about how scary and vulnerable it is to be a mother and then set up my tattoo appointment for Tuesday night.

I was not that nervous about the pain because duh, a needle for 30 minutes is nothing compared to what we've all been through by the time we are almost 41. I mean four babies, minor surgeries, worrying about all the major shit in life. A needle making something pretty on my arm? No problem.

My new tattoo is a feather based on a drawing from my friend Liane.  

My buddy Liane took these pictures. And she and I talked about our kids while Steve tattooed my arm.  It was so different than 20 years ago, when I talked about going to the bar and taking final exams while being tattooed.

Of course I was putting up a picture on Instagram right after he was done. Ha!

I chose a feather originally because of an Emily Dickinson poem.  

After doing a little more research into what feathers can represent or symbolize, I like the feather idea even more.  Feathers can signify "unrestrained freedom" and flying away from or above problems and/or sadness.  In Native American culture, feathers can signify bravery and courage and honor.  

I dig all of that.  And I can summon up the meanings for different times in my life going forward.  Right now, I am feeling the need for hope pretty hard.  But I will forever LOVE the idea of having "unrestrained freedom." I mean right?

I think it looks good as I walk into a room...this is seriously how I walk into a lot of rooms.

I don't want to be a cliche. I want to be a bad ass who has a piece of art that tells a story on my body.  I want to be unafraid to express myself and be myself. That's why I got a tattoo. And if that is cliche, than fuck it I am proud to be one.

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?

Commencement Speaking

It's graduation season.  Time to celebrate all the hard work and dedication.  Time to look back and look ahead.

And graduate.
It takes courage and hard work to graduate mr. cummings. 
And give speeches.

I graduated twice, once from high school and once from college.  It was before preschool graduations (I went to something called nursery school and I think we napped a lot) and elementary school graduations.  I'm not saying there is anything wrong with the current trend of doing a lot of graduating. My own son will celebrate his fifth grade/elementary school graduation next week. (wait, whhhhaaaat?!?) I'm just saying I predate them.

My high school graduation was fine.  My college graduation was fine.  Both were clouded with a bit of family drama.  But they were fine, mostly happy not overly done events.

Tim gets to give a speech at a graduation.  He's a high school principal.  Here he is practicing his speech at dinner last night.

Graduation season is also a time for sappy songs and good speeches.  

I was never valedictorian, or even close, so I was never asked to give a commencement speech.  I am not famous, or even close, so I have never been asked to give a commencement speech.  But graduation/commencement speeches are a little like Oscar speeches, we should all have one ready to go at any moment.  Just like the list of people who you'd thank for your Academy Award (don't forget your spouse!), you should have a list of advice to the young hopeful, eager students ready to blast into their future.

Last Sunday was the last day of class for an adult Sunday School  I teach at my church (a group we started called Time Out, for parents of mostly tweens that was started when our tweens were babies).  Nothing was planned and I thought it would be an appropriate time to pull out my commencement speech.  So, in front of a small group in a small room in my church in a suburb of Detroit I gave my advice.  And yes, I played Pomp and Circumstance on my iPhone while I read the speech with great passion.  

Here's how it went:

I was ready to move on.  I’m always ready to move on.  High school graduation couldn’t come fast enough.  I was over all the mean girls, the bad memories, the overbearing teachers, the tests, the rules, the work, the bullsh*t that was high school.

I packed everything I owned in my Mazda MX-3, which is really small, so you know I didn’t own a lot of stuff at 17.  I loaded up the jam box with my favorite CDs, put up the sun roof and hit the open road.  Making my way to something bigger, better, well at least different.  I was driving to Nebraska from Michigan, let’s keep it real, it wasn’t like I was heading to Hollywood or anything.

But here’s the thing, it wasn’t about celebrating where I’d been, it was about getting out, moving on, being done.

I’ve always enjoyed the leaving part.  Windows down, wind blowing in my hair, not a care in the world.  Excited about new people, new places, new adventures.

College was the same.  I worked my butt off to get decent grades and a degree in communications.  What can you do with a degree in communications you ask?  Same question my father had incidentally.  I went to the college that Tim Allen had attended years earlier.  The college where Tim was working toward a degree in communications, before he was busted for all kinds of drugs, but I digress.  One of my professors talked about his prize pupil Tim Allen, a lot.  Please note that my college years were when Allen’s show Home Improvement was hugely popular on television.  My professor would tell stories about “well when Tim was in class he used to....” or “when Tim was my student he would....”  Some kids rolled their eyes.  I widened mine thinking “holy #*@& I can be just like Tim Allen, minus the jail time hopefully.”

I couldn’t wait to graduate.  I took extra classes, worked three jobs and did my best to get out in four years.  When graduation day came, I once again was ready to move on.  I was over the sorority girls, the bad memories, the overbearing campus police, the tests, the rules, the work, the bullsh*t that was college.

I was ready to be the next Tim Allen.   I loaded up the Mazda with a little more stuff than four years earlier and hit the road.  Making my way to the land where my dreams would come true, okay let’s keep it real, I was heading to Pittsburgh.  But dreams are realized in Pittsburgh.  What? They are.

The next few years were good, they weren’t glamorous, but they were good.  I didn’t get any sitcom deals, but I lived a good life making $16,000 in a nonprofit job.  Yes, I was living large.  But I was ready to move on.   Pittsburgh is a great town, but it has a lot of old people.  When I lived there, it was the largest reported mass exodus of “young people” in the city’s history.  So, you guessed it, I was ready to move on too.

I met Tim, fell in love and got the hell out of the steel city.  Yes, um, I, er, upgraded to Detroit, the motor city. 

By this point my Mazda had been stolen on the mean streets of Pittsburgh and I was driving a Parisienne that my brother-in-law had given his wife’s idealistic (code word for poor) kid sister.  A kid sister with a dream of a new life and love.  I loaded up that Parisienne with all my belongings and hit the road.  

Tim and I quickly built a life, a family, a home.  And then something really strange happened, I didn’t want to move on and hit the road.  I never wanted it to end.  In fact, it was all going too fast.  Instead of wishing it away, I was screaming for time to stop so I could live in this moment forever.

Over the past 15 years together, there have been ups and downs.  Moments where I wanted to hit the road (when the babies wouldn’t stop crying all.night.long.) and moments where I wanted to freeze time (those rare moments when all kids are happy and not fighting or whining).

But that is the lesson I wish I would have known in high school and college, I wish I would have been more in the moment and not been quite so ready to move on.   Yes there will be mean girls (people) forever, too many rules, too many have tos, too much work and it might all feel like bullsh*t sometimes, but it’s fleeting.  We all have to move on, I just wish I would’ve held onto some of the good that happened, because there was good.  There were obstacles hurdled, laughs, loves, lessons, good times.

As we move on to our next chapter, the next highway of life I am grateful to be in this space.  I am grateful that we have a group of people to rely on, to laugh with, to reveal our selves and our worries, to be real with, to love.  Any minute now, I’m going to stand on a desk and shout “Carpe Diem” like Robin Williams in Dead Poet’s Society because I love this moment.  Or maybe I’ll start chanting “Donna Martin graduates” like all the cool kids on 90210 because that’s what I think should be done at a graduation-type/feeling situation.

The whole point?  This moment is ours, let’s really be in it.  Life is going by fast, our kids are going to be the ones giving high school graduation speeches (because you know, all of our kids WILL be the valedictorians and be the speakers of course), don’t wish it away.

And I thank each of you for taking a Time Out almost every Sunday, or maybe just one Sunday for some of you, this year. Thank you for sharing your lives, your moments.  

I will end on this note...we are at the age where we’ve seen a lot of life, we know things, but we’re not done.  We are pretty much in the middle, middle age.  We know enough to do better and still have so much time to start over and over and over and have so many moments.  Our future is bright, people.

[drops the mic, throws up cap]

What's your graduation/commencement speech?  What's the advice you'd give to the youths of the world?

It wouldn't be a graduation season without watching this.  Classic.



It's almost the season of reunions for all the old people that graduated a million years ago.  If you are headed to a reunion this summer and need some advice on what not to do, check out my tutorial.  It's from my experience at my 20th high school reunion last year.