The last day of school happened last week. Since the moment the kids stepped off the bus, we have been all full gear, pedal to the medal, all about summertime. No looking back, baby.
My kids are a little older, we know what we are doing with this whole summer break thing. We know there isn't a minute to spare when it comes to summer fun. Get out the chalk, make the lemonade, swing, run, swim, soak up the sun, jump rope, bike, lay in the tall grass, explore, watch the clouds, smell the air, chase the ice cream truck, find a hammock, do nothing, do everything. Go! Go! Go!
When the kids were little we used to make summer books full of drawings, journal entries and pictures. I got the old books out to inspire the kids and so they could remember what printed pictures looked like. We laughed at their baby faces and smiled remembering the trips we took and adventures we had.
Hard to believe my seventh grader spelled awesome like this "asem" just a few short years ago.
Looking through these books inspired me to print out pictures again. There's something about looking through photo albums!
Even though we've been at this summer break a few years and know we want to do everything, I wanted to be intentional about our summer planning. I asked the kids to name two things on their "must do this summer if at all possible" list. I modeled my questions on the book What Color Is Your Parachute that I used after I graduated from college to find out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Remember that book? I still have my copy from 1996. Did you know a new copy is reissued every year? But the core questions remain: What? Where? How? What do you most love to do? Where do you most love to do it? How do you find such a job and persuade those employers to hire you? The kids list included going to the sand dunes on Lake Michigan, going to a Detroit Tigers game, going on a road trip to see cousins down south and family baseball games in the backyard. We can totally handle all the what's, where's and how's of their summer dreams. The color of our summer is going to be bright and green and blue and shiny and happy. What color is your summer going to be?
Last year on my birthday, I made a bucket list. A list of all the things I wanted to do before I turned 40. Yesterday was the deadline, I mean my birthday. And well, I am a total bucket list failure.
But I don't feel too badly about the whole thing, especially because I got number 26 done last night!
I also did so many other amazing, wonderful, crafty, ridiculous things this year to make up for everything I didn't do on my list.
Here's a vlog with some bucket list advice, THE most adorable version of Radiohead's Creep you've ever seen/heard and some sparkler cake action. Check it out:
This badass picture is from the fabulous, creative genius Jarrad Henderson who was our photographer for the LTYM event. And now our friend for life. Check him out at jarradhenderson.com.
Today I'm 40.
It feels good to get on this side of 39. I feel like I'm in sort of the sweet spot of aging--I'm owning the whole getting older and wiser thang. I'm old enough to know I can type or say "thang" and not give a shit (I still never type "cuz" or "ya"). I'm old enough to know that comfortable pants and sleep really do matter. I'm old enough to know that things don't work out the way you want them too a lot of the time, and that sometimes they are better than you ever could have imagined or dreamed and sometimes not so much. I'm still young enough to have most of my parts working like they always have (except my metabolism, that died at 36). I'm young enough to have the luxury to be patient with myself and life.
At 40 I appreciate more. I appreciate good music and good wine. I appreciate silliness and dancing ( a lot). I appreciate time. I appreciate the other side of pain and struggle.
Today I'm celebrating not just all the good stuff that 40 is. I'm celebrating this side of 39, because this past year was a particularly hard one. It was a year I fought through, and for. It was raw and ugly, trudging through mud, smiling through grief, battling demons, fighting off the monster that is anxiety...it was intense and powerful. It was setting boundaries, seeing situations clearly for the first time, letting go, moving on.
Today I am celebrating breaking on through to the other side like an overplayed Doors' song, that sadly I always relate to really bad fraternity parties in the early 90s.
There were some really high highs this year, ahem, my stage debut. And a million small, wonderful, heart-crushingly sweet moments. The painful parts of this year make me appreciate all of the good stuff so much more.
Because on this side of 39, I am old enough to really get that life isn't all one way--it's not all good or all bad. I'm old enough to understand and accept that there's always going to be good and bad, light and dark, ugly and beautiful, joy and pain.
Today I'm 40. I'm going to celebrate. I'm going to dance. I'm going break on through to the other side.
Dance with me. Here are a few of my favorite dance jams of all time:
As I pedaled through town, I felt proud. People were looking at my bike. "Look at that bike, it's a nice one," an older getnleman said to his wife.
"Nice bike, mom," a hip young-ish guy said to me and I'm pretty sure he wasn't making fun of me. I just kept pedaling proudly, with my chest puffed out a little.
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I remember when I was about to turn 10 years old and how important that felt. Double digits, fifth grade, more independence, growing up a little bit, being a decade....it was all so important. I wanted to ask for something meaningful, something that sort of represented all the importance of what turning ten held. After great consideration, I decided to ask for a bike--a fancy, brand-new 10-speed bike. Because I mean a bike, that was my ticket to roam, to explore, to be free.
The morning of my 10th birthday, I woke up waiting to feel different. I walked out of my bedroom and my mom told me my birthday present was downstairs. She kept saying "cold" and "warm," "warmer" and "hot!!" to help direct me to my hidden gift. Underneath a heavy comforter with bright blue flowers was my new bike. It was silvery and sleek and amazing. I couldn't stop smiling from ear to ear.
My mom helped me get the bike outside and I jumped on in my pajamas and immediately rode it around our condo complex parking lot. The wind blowing my hair felt like freedom (yup no helmets 30 years ago). I pedaled faster and faster. It all felt very important.
Thirty years later, two days shy of turning 40 and this particular birthday once again feels really important. Older and wiser, peri-menopausal, more independent children, setting boundaries, acceptance, being four decades...it is all so important. Normally I am not a big birthday person, seriously. However, with this being another important birthday, I am sort of acting like Oprah did on her 50th. Remember the cake, the show and the celebrity guests? Well, John Travolta isn't going to be singing to me or anything like that. But I wanted to make sure that Tim knew, this is sort of a big year and a big deal to me. Last year he forgot my birthday and it didn't really bother me at all, but that was last year.
"I want you to remember my birthday this year," I told him last week. "I would also like a present, it doesn't have to be big, but just something that lets me know you love me honey."
Well, Tim listened. He bought me a gift and gave it to me early, last Friday evening. A new bike! He bought me a ticket to roam, to explore, to be free. I immediately jumped on the bike and rode around our street.
I sort of feel like I look like a Muppet on a bike. Do you remember the scene from The Great Muppet Caper when Miss Piggy and Kermit are riding bikes in the park? That's what I think I kind of look like. HA!
Later that evening, Lucy (who is the very important age of 10) and I rode our bikes into our little town. Up and down the streets with all the people out on a beautiful early summer Friday evening. The wind blowing my hair felt like freedom. My daughter pedaling by my side, it all felt very important.
I have fallen in love so much with this bike it's possibly getting a little weird. I feel a little like Pee Wee Herman and how much he loved his bike, remember? (Full disclosure, I love Pee Wee Herman, for real, is that strange?) I won't put my bike in the garage because it's just too damn dirty in there. I even named my bike...Tallulah (the name I have always loved (waaaay before Demi and Bruce) after the badass Tallulah Bankhead, but Tim didn't feel comfortable naming Lucy Tallulah).
This bike reminds me to not take myself too seriously. It reminds me how freeing it is to feel the wind on your face and the power in your legs. It reminds me how much fun it is to explore and roam. The bike reminds me that all these things are important. It's the perfect gift for 40.
Because I mentioned it, I thought I'd show you the clip of Pee-Wee and his bike.
It was a long winter here in Michigan. Remember that whole Polar Vortex situation? And the coldest, snowiest winter in Detroit in 140 years? Yeah that winter. So excuse me, if I go a little nuts about nice weather and sunshine and the promise of summertime. Last weekend, in between baseball games, I took a few of the kids to the pool. I love the pool, I love summer--Tim says it's my "time to shine" because I am generally in a very good mood in the summer. I might have been more excited about going to the pool for the first time this season than the kids. Before we left, I made sure to spray them all with SPF 567. When it was finally my turn to be sprayed, the bottle spit out it's last little bit, just enough to cover one shoulder. "Oh well, I thought, we won't be out very long," I said to myself and made a mental note to buy more sunscreen. Well, I did not buy more sunscreen that day. And that night, I was sunburned. It was bad, like sunburn via 1984 bad. Back in the days when my parents used to send us all out to get the first burn of the season so it wouldn't happen again. Or at least that's what they told us. What in the world? I used to get burned so badly that I had blisters on my chest and back. No worries, my parents would tell me. They gave me a T-shirt to wear to the pool the next day, but no sunscreen. Saturday night I longed for something cold to put on my burning skin, like good old Noxema or Aloe. I had chills and felt sick. "Don't touch me," I reminded the family as they passed by me. "My skin hurts, please don't touch me." The next day, I bought two bags full of different sunscreen varieties. And I spent the day at the baseball fields covered from head to toe because the sun shining on my skin was painful.
So yeah, I may have been a little too eager, too ready. I have to remember that summer and sunshine will last longer than a weekend, thank god. But what I know for sure this week is that sunscreen is for real, people. Don't forget to sunscreen your kids AND yourself. Peace. Here's What Else I Know For Sure This Week:
I'm jumping on the bandwagon and reading The Fault In Our Stars and I'm enjoying it. I stayed away because a story about cancer, hmmmm, not sure I can handle that. And because it's teen lit and I thought I was waaaay too sophisticated for teen lit (ha, I know!). Here's the thing, I am an extremely slow reader, I mean sloooooooow, and I'm discovering this teen lit so far is a pretty quick read even for someone like me.
Our team was losing by 10, it felt like it was okay to read our books at that time.
Bus stop selfies Ellen DeGeneres style are the best.
I can't get this song out from First Aid Kit out of my head. I am IN LOVE with it.
There's still time to enter the David Gray CD giveaway. Click here to enter. His new CD Mutineers is ahhhhmazing.
My neighbors keep having garage sales and I keep finding treasures. Love my new dishes.
I'm also stocking up on sidewalk chalk as you can see from the picture.
I'm so happy to be featured on EverydayFamily.com and (re)defining success. Check it out here.
I totally appreciate Classroom Party Planning Moms, even if I'm so not THAT mom. Here's this week's vlog about it in case you missed it.
What do YOU know for sure this week, right now? C'mon, share what you know. Leave a comment here or on my Facebookpage. Come play with me on Instagram @JumpingWithMyFingersCrossed
I am less than a week away from turning 40, and that means I am thinking about a lot, taking stock and possibly overanalyzing. I'm thinking about where I've been, where I want to go and panty lines. Yeah, panty lines.
I'm not just thinking about them, I am embracing them. After years of trying to conceal and feeling shame, I am now proudly not giving a fuck.
My obsession with panty lines started when I was quite young. I spent a lot of my time watching TV. A lot of time. You might say TV was sort of my best friend growing up, my teacher, my mentor (analyzing that is a whole other blog post, people). I remember sitting on the floor in front of our giant wooden television set taking it all in. Not only did I learn about the world through soap operas like One Life To Live and sitcoms like One Day At A Time, I learned about the world through commercials. While other kids were playing house I was reenacting commercials. One of my favorite commercials was for Underalls. Remember that one? "Show us your Underalls!" the women shouted and they would turn their panty line-free rear ends to the screen and laugh. They had no panty lines and they were so happy. They were wearing pantyhose and panties all in one! What? My mind was blown.
No panytlines = happiness. Got it.
The tag line of this commercial is "who looks good in panty lines?" Um, no one in 1986 I guess.
When I arrived home with several thongs in my suitcase I felt like a real trendsetter. "You guys, they are awesome, no panty lines," I told my friends.
No panty lines = happiness. Thongs = sexy, grown up lady. Got it.
I spent most of my 20s and sadly my 30s avoiding panty lines and wearing thong underwear. So what I'm telling you is I spent most of my 20s and 30s being insecure and uncomfortable.
Last May, I helped put together a storytelling show and performed a story on stage myself. I was so busy with producing/directing/behind-the-scenes stuff that I didn't pay attention too much to my wardrobe. As I left my house I remember thinking "Damn, I forgot the right underwear. I'm going to have panty lines! Oh no!" I got so busy, I forgot. Until right before showtime, right before I was about to go on stage. But by then it was too late.
I went on stage with my cotton Hanes Her Way panty lines in full view and guess what? Nothing happened. The people that liked my story clapped. No one threw tomatoes at me and yelled "Your panty line is hideous, you disgust me!"
Since that day, I haven't given one flying fig about hiding my panty line. In fact, I wear my panty lines proudly, like a badge of honor. I am almost 40, my name is Angela and I dare to wear underwear that is comfortable. I refuse to apologize for my panty lines--or my body, or my weight, or the lines in my forehead or the crows feet around my eyes.
I am less than a week away from being 40 and it feels good to embrace my body and reclaim comfort and confidence. That right there? That = happiness.
May was B-A-N-A-N-A-S. And so far, June is too. The kids are in school until next Thursday even though we all have summer brains. So we are just getting through the best we can. On the vlog today, I'm talking about what kind of mom I am and what kind of mom I am not. Here's a hint, I am not the Classroom Party Planning Mom. I am more the Go To The Grocery Store With No Makeup On And Toothpaste On My Shirt Mom. Check it out:
Trigger-- anything, as an act or event, that serves as a stimulus and initiates or precipitates a reaction or a series of reactions.
I've read a little about triggers and warnings lately. I heard a whole segment on NPR devoted to how some universities have started providing warnings before classes with sensitive and/or possibly disturbing subject matter. You know like "what you are about to hear might trigger very strong feelings and emotions, you have been warned." There were conflicting opinions about whether that was completely ridiculous or completely compassionate. I like to think I lean toward compassion, always. But I do wonder whether the warnings are realistic. Especially for people that are highly sensitive. The other day I had a trigger moment, but I am not sure a warning would have prepared me. Because I am not sure we always know what will set off a landslide of emotions and feelings. "I'd like to watch the game alone, so why don't you guys go home," Tim said to me this past weekend when we were all at Peyton's baseball game. Um, this was my trigger moment. Yup. He might as well have said, "I don't want to be around you ever again." That's all it took to bring up my rejection/abandonment issues. What the hell? It pisses me off that something so silly can make me feel like I am that teenager whose parents left her. It pisses me off that even though I have compassion for the decisions and life choices my parents made all those years ago, I still carry the "I might be unlovable and very leave-able" stigma in my heart. I don't walk around feeling all these feelings all the time. It has to be just the right blend of utter exhaustion, an over-busy schedule, money stress and parenting worries-- that's usually the perfect recipe to fall victim to triggers and vulnerabilities and excessive sighing and a few tears. Tim of course had no idea that with one comment he had set off a fucking windstorm of anxiety and sadness and resentment. But the wonderful thing about Tim is, that he's wonderfully patient and has a lot of compassion. He doesn't understand me and how my brain works, but that doesn't stop him from loving me. "Look, I've known you for 16 years, it's going to be okay," he told me after I got upset over the baseball game and then apologized for getting upset. "It's ebbs and flows. Just breathe and calm that head of yours," he told me with a smile. His love and nonjudgement was my trigger to remembering that life is good and I've got somebody that loves me and isn't going to leave.
I'm not downplaying people with severe mental health issues and their need to understand their triggers. In fact, I am encouraging everyone to pay attention to what triggers all of us, the good and the bad. What triggers feelings of pain and sadness and loss. What triggers feelings of comfort, familiarity and happiness. Do what you can to get through the first one and make the second one happen more often. A trigger for all my joy and "hell yeah, this is awesome" happened this past weekend too. I went to a concert. Not just any concert it was a concert of a band whose songs have become personal anthems---The Avett Brothers.
They killed my favorite song of theirs, Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise. With lyrics like "There was a dream and one day I could see it; Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded somebody free it; And there was a kid with a head full of doubt; So I'll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out." Yeah, I feel like they wrote that song for me and all my triggers. Watching them perform the song live meant so much to me. So much, I wanted to do something, create something that triggered the memory of what amazing musicians they are and their message of "yeah, this shit is fucked up, but there is light, there is hope, there is love." So I made a sign with a lyric from my favorite song of theirs for my back porch. It's this week's Pinterest Poser Challenge*--A Song Lyric Sign (to trigger inspiration). *In an attempt at not being a Pinterest Poser,** every week I attempt and detail a new Pinterest challenge (a recipe, a craft, etc.). ** My definition of Pinterest Poser is someone who is all pins and no substance. I based on an earlier sign project I made that I love and that hangs in my bedroom. This time though, my sign didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it too.
I'm not impressed.
Instead of using a printer, I hand wrote the letters onto the contact paper. Instead of painting the board white and then the letters black, I reversed it. It came out looking well, like a serial killer or hostage taker made the sign. But don't worry, my failure didn't trigger deep depression. Honestly, the only thing it triggered was laughter.
Here's THE song that turned me onto The Avett Brothers--Paranoia In B Flat. A song that my brother put on his annual CD of Amazing Songs for me a few years ago (a gift he gives me every Christmas, a gift I love).
And of course, here's the awesome Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise.
Have you made anything Pinterest inspired or worthy? Leave it here in the comments or over on my Facebook page.
Make An Awesome Omelette--click here Outdoor Lights Inspired by the show Parenthood- click here Herb Garden with Chalboard Pots- click here Backyard Graffiti Art with kids- click here Happiness Notecards- click here
Furniture Painting and Bench/Chest Makeover- click here
Thanksgiving-y Project/Gratitude/Holiday Countdown- click here The Smoothie-click here
The Free Printable Turned Artwork in a Boring Hallway- click here
The chalk board-click here Seven Layer Dip in Individual Cups (my favorite so far!)-click here The pumpkin address-click here The Kitchen Dancing Sign--click here
Head on over and follow my Pinterest boards-click here!
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