Garden Envy

These are not my flower boxes.  I have no flower boxes.

I sadly have no flowers, no lush garden overflowing with beautiful blooms.  

Nope, these aren't mine either.

What I do have is garden envy.  And a whole lot of weeds.


I always thought gardening was like cooking--anyone can do it.  Read a recipe dummy and magically a meal will appear.  But that's crap.  I've always struggled with keeping plants and flowers alive.  I read if they need full sun or shade, most of the time.  I water them regularly, sometimes.  Okay, so I'm not the best plant recipe reader/follower.  


We lived at our last house for 12 years.  I tried all different kinds of combinations of flowers and plants.  The two things I found that I could grow really well were Hostas and Impatiens.  It took years, but I finally got the place looking pretty good.  Not garden tour worthy, but good. (Never did get that vegetable or herb garden going that I dreamed of though. Waaaa.)


Our new place?  It is embarrassingly awful.  Maybe it's because we are renters and that's why I've been avoiding the whole gardening thing.  I didn't want to invest.  The weeds weren't my fault.  The remnants of failed gardening attempts by tenants who lived here before us were other people's mistakes, not mine for once.  


Finally though I couldn't take it and I planted my no-fail Impatiens.  But guess what?  I killed them.  

My sad looking yard, looks even sadder.


In fact, my yard looks like the bad guy's house in TV shows complete with a chain link fence in the back yard.  It's not good.

My crazy mother always has beautiful flowers, always.  Even when there are times when she can't take care of herself, there are those beautiful flowers thriving.  I come from a long line of anxiety-ridden, issue-filled women who can f-ing garden like champs.


I must have the green thumb gene in me somewhere.  Lord knows I've done my blood line proud carrying on the off-balance, emotional issues.  Maybe I just haven't tapped into my gardening gene.  But I have to believe it's there.  


It's time to commit to making this rental house our home, whether we are here for eight more months or eight more years.  It's time to appreciate and care for the space we are in right now, in this moment.  


So my apologies to my new-ish neighbors, but I will be trying a few planting combinations over the next few weeks.  Hopefully some will work and I will find my dormant green thumb.


While I'm not gardening, we are having fun.  Three days in and summer is officially pretty rad.

I should try this.  I relate to this commercial "the plants smell our fear." Love it.

Fort Wayne Here We Come and What I Know For Sure (This Week)

There's been a shift in the past week.  A shift to something better.  

We are shifting into summer.  

Last year I was overwhelmed with nerves about how to entertain four children on those long, hot days.  But this year is different.  It has been an intense school year.  Between kids' activities, short selling our house stress coupled with moving in and moving out stress and a bunch of other STUFF....it was intense.  This year, summer with four kids seems like a relief.

No more car loop.  No more hurried mornings.  No more forgotten homework assignments.  No more racing and rushing.

I'm ready for the shift. Ready for lazy mornings, afternoons at the pool and not worrying about bed times so much.

I look forward to hanging out with my kids and having fun together.  And being intentional about, well, everything.  Instead of getting lost in all the details of crazy schedules, homework and not being late; I want to focus on making things special.  Making memories.  Holding onto and creating new traditions.  Making it a big deal.

It doesn't have to be fancy, it just has to be important.

Like our very important Summer Plans List we do every year.  It involves a Sharpie, a poster board and some brainstorming. Simple, but yet it's a very major deal/tradition in our house.

There is no idea too big or too small.

Do you like JT's flannel Christmas pjs?

It's our reference list when we get bored.  It's our wish list, too.  I'm not sure if we are going to make it to the von Trapp's inn in Vermont, or if it even still exists, but I love that we wish we could.  

It's also pretty revealing and funny.  Lucy really wants to go to Indiana.  Who wants to go to Indiana?  We don't know anybody in Indiana. But Indiana is close, that just might be a wish I can grant.  Fort Wayne here we come.

Shifting into summer.  Shifting into making some memories.  

I'm ready, that I know for sure.

Here are a few other things I know for sure (this week):

Not very many people watched my first Vlog ever. Waaa. Watch it.  um, please. 

This is a very cool song and a bad ass video full of DANCING.  "Only one desire that's left in me, I want the whole damn world to come dance with me." Sigh, those lyrics from Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros song "Man on Fire."

You should vote in this poll on Patch. What car should I drive? Click here to check it out.

I know that if I could've gotten a sitter I would've seen this movie tonight-Rock of Ages.  Cheesy? Maybe.  But I don't care.  A musical with awesome actors and 80s hairband music? I'm in.  Well at least whenever I can get a sitter.

Not Quite Fearless, Yet

A year ago today, I pushed the "publish" button on blogger.com.


My first vlog!!!! Okay, you can't view it on "mobile devices."  Sorry, blame Carly Rae Jepson.  If you go to your computer and watch, you'll understand why I am blaming the "Call Me Maybe" singer.


I started this blog to get everything out of my head.  To share what's in my heart.  Hopefully along the way I've made people laugh, rethink, appreciate and/or reclaim some joy.


Blogging has let me do what I love, write and connect.  It has opened doors to writing and video editing opportunities.  It gave me the courage to start a business.  


Most importantly, it has helped me to stop apologizing and become less afraid.  Not quite fearless yet. 

There have been some amazing moments this past year. 

I do feel much less afraid to be the socially awkward woman who is afraid of public speaking but has a lot to say; who loves old Chris Farley sketches on SNL and all things pop culture but can passionately and intelligently speak about politics; who rides that emotional roller coaster like a champ but won't let go of the safety bar, just in case.




Thank you for reading and supporting me.


The perfect gift for the occasion would be to share my blog on Facebook, like the FB page(click here) or become a subscriber (click here).  I almost typed, "sorry to ask" but stopped myself.  

Here are a few of my favorite posts from the past year.


I Am Not Funny

A Dream Fulfilled With My Posse

Embracing My Crazy and My Sam Kinison

Back to School Revolution

The Sock Basket

#ShockingButTrue (At least to me)

Do you have any?  
Let me know what you think.
And again, thank you.


This is the happiest song and the silliest video.  I heart Jimmy Fallon.

The Party Bus

My kids are STILL in school, even though we've been celebrating the end of the year since Memorial Day. Endless parties, teacher gift donations, friends' birthday parties and treats.  My kids are party junkies.

They expect a goodie bag every time they leave the house.  

I feel like my van has turned into the party bus taking my kids safely from one good time to the next.


Don't get me wrong, the parties are great.  The people that plan them are great.  My kids are just acting a little nuts.  A little ungrateful.  But that's what kids do right?  They mercilessly drain you of all your energy and youth like evil little fun-sucking vampires.  Okay, that's a bit much.  But it's been a long day.  I'm tired. And um, remember, I'm 38 now, I'm old.


Just when my kids were getting on my last nerve last night, they redeemed themselves with cuteness.  But that's what kids do right?  They are funny, little beings trying to figure out this massively overwhelming and confusing world.


We were in the party bus, I mean van, a lot again yesterday.

We were driving a lot.  But we were also waiting in the van a lot.  Waiting for school to get out. Waiting for practice to start. Waiting for practice to end.  Waiting for Tim to meet us for a kid swap.  So don't get worried, I wasn't driving with JT on my lap.

On the way to practice after school I let them finish up the last five minutes of The Sound of Music they started watching this weekend.  I really just wanted them to stop fighting and snapping at each other.


And boy, they were really being mean to each other and so utterly annoyingly whiny to me.  The kids were in major vampire mode.  I sat slumped over in the front seat defeated, feeling all hope was lost when. But their reaction to the end of the movie was sweet reassurance they weren't soul-less. 

*****Spoiler Alert***** (For those of you who don't know how The Sound of Music ends, there are some major spoilers coming up.) (I was given some constructive criticism about my lack of proper spoiler alert info and spacing after giving away Lexie's death on Grey's Anatomy in a blog last week. Hope this is better.)

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When the Nazis are searching for the escaping von Trapps, Rolfe, a family friend of sorts, gives up their location rather than letting them go.  But in the end the von Trapps do indeed escape. Phew.

"Ralph betrayed them!," Peyton said indignantly.  


They were all shocked and disgusted.


"How could he have been so brainwashed?" said Lucy obviously regretting that she had been so into Liesl and Rolfe's budding young romance.


They couldn't let it go.


"What's happening now?" I asked the kids as I drove.


"The von Trapps are on the lamb," Peyton said matter-of-factly.  Like we talk like that every day.


When the 150 hour movie was finally over the kids were dissatisfied.


"That's it?," asked Peyton throwing his hands up in the air.


He wanted to know what happened to the family.  He needed closure.  He cared.
Does anybody know if there is a sequel?  Because I don't think this party bus is stopping anytime soon.

38 Special

It was my birthday yesterday.

I've never been really particularly into my birthdays.  Or really any kind of attention that I didn't have to work hard to earn.  


I mean shocking people by being the first on an empty dance floor is fun attention.  Getting a story just right, making serious people laugh, yup that's good attention.  




Being born, eh, not so much.






But the older I get the more into birthdays I get.  

I am now 38 years old.

Holy shit, I am 38 years old.  

Maybe it's because I'm not on as many dance floors as I used to be.  Maybe it's because some of those serious people just look annoyed with my stories. Whatever the reason, birthdays and honoring the special-ness are becoming more important.


I don't need extravagant parties or out of this world gifts.
Yesterday, I got all kinds of crazy by ordering a venti soy latte at Starbucks and watching the finale of Mad Men in the middle of the day.  The crazy celebration continued with homemade M&M blizzards and fun family time with Tim and the kids.  


Social media has made birthdays even more fun.  
I mean Facebook (FB) is just awesome.  You don't have to tell people it's your birthday, FB does it for you.  You get messages from an old coworker, a friend from middle school and your neighbor?  Amazing.

Birthdays on Twitter? Equally awesome. One of the best parts of my day was this:

 @Dallas_TNT wished me a happy birthday! What? That's right.  I mean the only thing that could be better is if JR or Sue Ellen themselves tweeted me a happy birthday.  Maybe next year.  

Some things however never change.  My dad called me to tell me he was going to China in the morning, and to have a happy birthday.  I asked him to keep a journal about his travels and post his pics to his Flickr account.  Later that afternoon I talked to my mother and ended up hanging up on her.  I wish that story was different with her, but it just isn't.  Quite frankly, the birthday when I don't hear about a wonderful adventure my father is going on or have a creepy conversation with my mother who is stuck in the past will be strange.


Getting older, putting up with all the old and navigating all the new, that's what makes birthdays special.  I feel more grateful than ever for the good and more ready to let go of the bad.


Thirty eight is going to be special.

The good.

The new (doctor's orders).  But really? I'm 38, not 78.  C'mon!

As if the Metamucil wasn't enough, just to make me feel older, I found out I share a birthday with the opening of the movie E.T.  And that movie opened 30 years ago yesterday.  That's not bad or good, that's just crazy that E.T. was 30 years ago. Elliot is 40 years old people.

Just because...a post called 38 Special is begging for this lame video from 38 Special.

Maria von Trapp and Me

I spent much of my weekend in the van.  Driving and listening to my kids watch The Sound of Music, which is a long a** movie. A movie I might have called cheesy once or twice in my life.  But I have a whole new appreciation for it now. 


Somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
***From the song Something Good, The Sound of Music


Here's how it went down:
Saturday morning:
7:00 a.m.
Tim left for work (which is extremely rare that he works on a Saturday) early and would be gone all day.
10:30 a.m.
The kids and I set off on a mini adventure.  Something very outside of our norm.  I gathered up all my little chicks and we went to a book signing of an amazing blogger, Kelle Hampton.  


I used to be the mom that went anywhere with three kids--grocery stores, movie sets (once I dragged all three kids to watch Miley Cyrus and Kelly Preston get out of a car for a scene they were filming, it was awesome! ), political rallies (okay, it was potluck type fundraiser, but rally sounds cooler) and road trips (my biggest claim to fame is driving to Tybee Island, Georgia, which is a hell of a long way from Michigan, with three kids while I was seven months pregnant).  I loved being that mom.  I loved being with my kids.  I loved being capable, confident and self-reliant.


Since having my fourth baby, I haven't been that mom.  I stay home more.  I stopped taking solo trips with the kids.  It was too much.  I sort of lost my mojo.


But this past Saturday was different.  As a treat, for being good sports, I let the kids watch a movie in the van on the way to the event. We normally reserve movies in the van for long trips.  The kids rifled through the stack of movies and decided on The Sound of Music.   I haven't seen or listened to that movie in gosh, maybe 15 years.  Sure, I've sung my share of Do-Re-Mi's and Favorite Things while the kids roll their eyes, but no movie.


As Maria sang about having confidence to leave the nuns, I too was feeling confident.


11:00 a.m.
There was a long line.  It was outside.  It was hot.  

"Really mom? You are going to make us wait in this long line?" 

But the kids were really amazing.  We talked, the older ones roamed a little, Wade sat in the stroller and played with his cars.  It worked.  And I got a chance to meet someone that I think is pretty damn cool and inspiring.  Lucy played photographer and took our picture.

What a great message.  Look for the good. Click here for more information about Kelle's book "bloom."

As we drove to our next destination, Maria was singing about the hills being alive with music and I was feeling it.   I was alive.  I could handle it.  Could my mojo be back?


1:30 p.m.
After a quick lunch and dip in the pool, I loaded up the kids in the van again to take Lucy to gymnastics.  

As the yodeling "The Lonely Goatherd" song was blaring in the van and the kids were transfixed, I was distracted.  I had received a text from Tim that was, well, bothersome.  

To explain I have to go even further back in time, to 
Friday, 10:00 p.m.
(The fight scene.)
Tim and I fight like a couple obnoxious reality stars, except we don't get paid (whomp, whomp) and no one is watching (thank god).  When we are really exhausted, usually on a Friday night after a long week, we have been known to be a little overcritical, nit-picky and sensitive.  Okay that's just me.  Tim just gets annoyed with the whole scene.  Well this particular Friday night, I might have said a few really bad words and made a really horrible scene.  I might have.


Usually after a fight, Tim and I will look at each other and realize "holy hell, we're tired, sorry" and move on.  But not so this weekend.  Tim was still very much annoyed.  And I was still very much the over-sensitive soul.


As Maria taught the kids to sing "So Long, Farewell," I was imagining worst case scenarios and feeling very sorry for myself.


3:30 p.m.
Off to pick up Lucy from gymnastics, take JT to a birthday party and Wade to the doctor.  Baby Wade had been such a trooper, but his fever came back and with the bad earache he'd had a few days before, I was worried.

The poor kid ended up having a double ear infection and had to have his ears flushed.  


I got back in the van and the movie was at the part where Maria is questioning her life, a little scared of it all.  The head nun (sorry if that is incorrect terminology) sang to her and told her to "climb every mountain, chase every rainbow."  I was cheering Maria on in the front seat.  I might have teared up a little.


Before I started driving I sent Tim a text basically begging for forgiveness and almost accepting full responsibility.  Almost.  I mean come on, our poor baby just got his ears flushed and Maria was leaving her dream of being a nun to be with the man she loved.  Tim and I could get over a little fight.


Tim forgave me, we all had a great evening together as a family. 
Sigh. Life was good again.  Just like Maria and the Captain and all those von Trapp children.  We were together and happy.


Sunday Morning
11:00 a.m. 
I was back in the van driving to a birthday party with the kids. It had been a great morning and all seemed right with the world. The movie was still going and again another perfect-for-the-moment song came on.  "Something Good" is about how Maria feels that damn, she must have done something right in her younger life to deserve all this.  Well, Rodgers (the guy who wrote the song), you nailed it.  

I must have done something good for all the good that I've got.


Maria had some mojo. 
And I'm getting mine back.

Earaches and What I Know For Sure (This Week)

This is a great time of year to be a kid.  Unless you have an earache.


Between end-of-the-year class parties and watching a lot of movies at school to pool parties and the promise of summer fun--being a kid right now is the bomb.


Unless you have an earache.  Which my poor baby Wade had last night.

When my oldest Peyton was a baby and had earaches, I remember feeling bad for him, but not really understanding.  Not understanding why he was flipping the f^#@ out over a little earache.  


Then I got an earache and I understood.  Babies flip the f#&@ out over earaches because they are immensely painful.  When my ear hurt I was beyond miserable.  It was like labor pains, I am not exaggerating.  I needed an epidural.


So, when Wade started flipping out and grabbing his ear, I didn't judge.  


I held him, distracted him, gave him ibuprofen. 


Last night was long.  Just when I thought "okay, pain is gone, sleep will come," another wave of ear pain came over Wade.  And he resumed his flipping out.


But I know he will get better, I will sleep again someday and Wade will get to partake in one of the happiest times of year to be a kid.  


What Else I Know For Sure (This Week)


The new Capri Sun Super V commercial sums up how I feel as a mom.  I'm pretty good at giving my kids freedom to make mistakes and learn some things on their own.  I wouldn't call myself overprotective.  But it isn't easy, I do a lot of holding back.  

The fireworks display in the grocery store is a sure sign of summer. And I love it.

TV is going to be good next week. I've been waiting over 20 years for this.  The new Dallas starts next week, June 13 on TNT.  I'm nervous about setting my expectations too high and being let down.  But come on, Larry Hagman, Patrick Duffy and Linda Gray together again? It's got to be good, right?

I am obsessed with avocados.  I've always loved them, but now I really love them.  From homemade guacamole, cut up in salads, on top of burgers...I.love.avocados. Click here for a great homemade guacamole recipe.


Twitter is fun.  Come play with me, Click here to follow me @AngelaYBlood.


Comments are good.  Come on over and comment on my last car review for Patch.  I think I found THE one. Click here to read all about it.

Forgetting

There are days when I forget.  I forget that I'm living the good life.


Stress about not doing enough, having enough or being enough get in my way.  And I forget.

Sure it's not for everybody, and that's okay.  

We are living the god damn special holiday episode of your favorite show pretty much every day.  The episode where things go wrong, life gets messy, but in the end (or on Christmas Eve) the character realizes what's really important. He or she realizes what it's all about.  


It's about family, friendships, relationships, loving, living, experiencing, feeling, going through it, getting through it.  And usually the episodes I watch have some funny in there too.


Here's a quick example of my good life last night. 
**warning** It might stress you out a little watching.  

I gave up watching Grey's Anatomy a few years ago.  It is still a good show, I just got tired of the very special, very violent episodes.  But of course being the pop culturalist that I am, I know when a big season finale is on and the fact that a character will die.  Even though I didn't commit to watching two hours of it,(spoiler alert) I did watch Lexie's death scene on YouTube.  


As she lay on the ground after the plane crash, she and McSteamy pledged their love for one another.  He talked about sharing a life together, the good life.  Marriage, kids, the whole thing.  And then she died and everybody cried, even me.


As I sat weeping in front of my computer, I thought that dream life they want, that so many people want, is my life.  


Does Hollywood dress it up and romanticize it a bit? Absolutely, holy hell yes.


But really, all we want is connection and love.  I've got that. A crazy, hectic, loud, messy (one of my kids friends said it was the messiest house he'd ever seen, whatever!), fun, real house full love and connection.


And for that I am grateful.


One of my favorite movie clips, from The Family Man, about being sure about what having it all means.  

Here's one of my favorite clips from happier times over on Grey's Anatomy.  Izzie and Alex getting married and the vows--my favorite wedding speech almost ever. Seriously, it's good.

My whole feeling of gratitude was not only inspired by Grey's Anatomy, but by a car I drove this week.  Yup.  And I wrote about it here at Patch. Click here to read it.