sometimes it’s just a resting bitchy face

So there I was sitting at my kitchen table, checking my email while waiting for a scheduled phone interview from a reporter. The appointed time passed and, thinking that perhaps she is running late and will be calling any minute now, I started to do other things like check my Twitter feed, pin some more stuff on Pinterest and check out what my laptop camera can do. Of course it’s the perfect time to take a selfie!

Hmmm…good hair day…I’m going to use this for my Facebook profile picture because…why not?

Yes, I was still waiting for that reporter to call me.

And then…

Are you okay?

I’ve seen that look before. Hope Bill isn’t in too much trouble.

You look so sad.

Praying you’re okay.

Am I okay?

Is Bill safe?

Should I be alone looking like this?

Am I in any danger?

What about everyone else out there?

OH.

MY.

GAWD!!!

People…darlings…friends…family…

It’s called a Resting Bitchy Face!!!

I’m fine.

Although I nearly died from boredom and general annoyance while waiting for that reporter to call. She never did and I am afraid that I might never get that hour back.

Perhaps I am not okay after all.

Thanks for caring.

because sometimes you just have to pull over and let it out

Scratching your head a little over that title, eh?

Yeah me too.

Have you ever had that moment where you knew that you were going to be sick but it was absolutely the last thing that you wanted to do because…who wants to get sick…where you are at…who you are with…who really wants to just hurl right here, right now.

Of course my darling husband and a couple of my kids swear by the nonsense of letting it go (so to speak) because you’ll feel better after.

They are totally, completely weird that way…truly….I judge them all the time when they choose to share their weird theory…and then I feel nauseous because I just can’t deal with vomit…not at all.

Oops!

I should have told you what this was about.

No not really actual vomit.

Except there is this one time…it’s kind of gross…still…

Okay.

Way back in 1993, Bill and I bought our very first brand new car, all bright and shiny and red with that fresh new car smell and only 8 miles on the odometer…a Mercury Villager! Thus began my long journey, that seems to have no end, of me driving a minivan. It wasn’t that bad…except now when I really don’t need a minivan. But that Villager! I loved it. We were literally the first family at my daughter’s school to have one and we always caused quite the stir at the drop off and pick up. While I was collecting my kindergartener, Hollie, I would spy other moms pressing their noses against the limousine tinted glass to gaze upon it’s gorgeous interior. I loved that car! It was perfect for a young mom with two small children and one on the way. And it was the first brand new car that I had ever owned.

Oh yeah, I was pregnant when we bought it. Yeah, I was struggling with hyperemesis too. Big surprise. But after nearly 8 months of it with Zoë, I was a pro…at least I thought I was. I knew the vomiting was inevitable but at least this time I could control it…?…I know, I’m an idiot sometimes. So there I was coming home from a routine OB visit, driving my gorgeous, red minivan, when…oh no…NO!….OH NO!!!….It’s coming….where is a bag, a towel, something, anything….there’s nothing??!!…oh dear god…it’s coming…

Frantic and not knowing what to do but determined not to throw up in my shiny, new car, I pull over a block from home and…

Yeah.

I never, ever drove that way home as long as we lived on Amelia Drive ever again.

Oh, and family, I did not feel better afterward! I actually felt worse and it had nothing to do with the homeowner of the house I stopped at to puke on their curb saw me. I just did; even if my body was forcing that vomit out.

I’m being gross, aren’t I?

I’m sorry.

It happened again the other day. I tried and tried so hard to keep it down, to somehow will it to not come out but…

And then after that came the words…ALL the words. All the words forcing their way out of my mouth…and they just kept coming and coming and coming…

I just can’t seem to get away from the Mean Girls references, can I?

What can I say?

It needed to come out…all of it…and it did. Of course I was miserable after…as is the one whom received all those words…so many words…hundreds…more than a thousand…all tumbling out on top of each other , forcing their way out.

It all had to come out.

All of it.

And, because it’s me, I felt even worse.

Ugh!

But sometimes you just have to pull over and let it all out right there.

So I did..

Excuse me now, I have a big mess to clean up.

slowing so the magic can happen

I could lie and tell you all that it’s been a stellar week in wife-dom and mommy-hood but some of you know me too well. I did shoot for excellence but the darling husband and some of those kids just got in the way , as they always do.

Adjusting continues with the resting and rehabilitation for Bill. And he pushes perhaps too hard. Naturally just when I start to nag or cry or fret or worry it is clear that his body is already nagging at him almost as good as I would. Still, I nag anyway because we both wouldn’t expect anything less from me and besides, he is pale and looking like he has done too much and OMG…why is he not following doctor’s orders??!!

Oh, he has no idea how much I am restraining myself…until one of my darling clowns does what apparently at that moment is the unthinkable. I mean, who is going to take your special-middle-aged-lady-face-cleanser from your shower without asking and then not even bother to return it?

Right?!

There is talk that I might have gone a little bit over the top handling this incident…after my darling husband told me he took the dog for a walk jog around the block…against doctor’s orders…but it was no big deal…except that it was clearly as I look at him. Yes, I might have transferred a little bit of that anxiety and stress on one of my clowns.

I offer no apology.

I blame the kid and the husband.

After we all took a deep cleansing breath, they did too.

Yes, we all are still adjusting.

It’s a good thing my darling husband made an appointment today for me to be pampered at our darling 1st daughter’s salon before the STEMI. I am guaranteed always anything hair related from Hollie gratis because I gave her life and all that but I know time in her chair, at her salon, is money that she works very hard for. Her time is limited and her client list is growing and growing to the point that people wait to sit in her chair. How, then I rationalize, can I sit in her chair taking time from paying clients? So I have her work her magic in her kitchen or mine while trying to juggle her busy, busy babies. Except Hollie and the darling husband decided that I can and I should so the appointment was made…and the appointment I kept.

I could get used to this.

We spent a few hours together. Her busily making me ginger-er (with a lot of purple) and trimming the latest pixie grow…which I have to say is the best of all my pixie grows ever thanks to Hollie’s talent and skills.

And we laughed.

We talked about the crazy tech-phobe moms in our school district and on Facebook.

And music.

And the young Justin Bieber hair stage of a pixie grow.

And Britney Spears’ weaves.

And Hunter Moore and the last time we talked about him and what a douche he was and hurray for karma!

And new adventures.

And her amazing babies.

And getting older and how she better never, ever talk to me like I’m two when I am super old even if my mind is addled because I’ll still know because back in the day in  nursing school, believe me, those beautiful old people knew their adult children were doing that to them.

I feel very strongly about that last discussion and made it very clear to her…,and perhaps someone in the chair next to me.

Oh, and I marveled to myself, what an amazing human this person who is a part of me is…the first human who is a living part of me!

And she makes me pretty and ginger-ed.

I leave her salon feeling lovely with my sexy, sexed-up hair that is even more almost a bob and I feel overwhelming love and pride for this adult baby girl of mine. I’d go back into her salon and hug her while gushing with pride and love and tears in front of co-workers and the client in her chair but that would be awkward and not right…not right at all.

She might never, ever let me sit in her chair again.

No, I’ll just enjoyed my sexed up hair, which the darling husband likes and random vet tech noticed and complimented when I dropped Zelda-kitty off for her appointment after…and I will give thanks for slowing down today so I can sit in my daughter’s chair for a few hours today and let the magic happen. Then I will smile because I know that magic happens because I’m her mommy.

like cellophane

Quote

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

It’s one of the age old philosophical questions…isn’t it?

Well?…

Does it?…

Does it make a sound?

Then what about the wife, the mother? If she makes a statement to her family as they are gathered around and they all seem to nod in assent does that mean that she has ever made a sound at all?

Really?!

It’s like no one ever knows you’re there.

Wives and mothers totally get what it feels like to be Mr. Cellophane.

Do they even see you if they don’t hear you?

I mean really?

Am I right?

Of course I am!

Today feeling like cellophane.,

Thank goodness for friends who work along side you, friends, who like you, rarely ever take the time to make it just about them alone, to remind you and them that it sometimes needs to be just that. It needs to be all about you…and them.

And good food and wine…

And karaoke…good, bad, really bad and great karaoke for the win, bitches!

Exactly what is needed to remind you that you are impressive, distinguished, remarkable, valuable you.

All of us.

 

 

deal 2015

For the last two years I have chosen a word for the year. It’s so much easier than resolutions, which I never did any way because…why? Three weeks later they are just going to be broken and then comes the guilt, the shame and the self-loathing.

Yeah.

No.

I am already too good at that having perfected it for the last 50+ years.

No resolutions for me. Not ever.

Focusing on one word to sum up who I want to be and how I want to live this year is what I choose instead.

2013 was the year where I chose to embrace. Miles helped to define 2014 for me.

And for 2015?

I thought about it as I began to write down The Big Top calendar. As usual, the days of the month filled up quickly with work schedules, a couple doctor appointments, birthdays, meetings, holiday plans, parties, classes, practices and half marathon training.

Sigh!

Already it promises to be a busy month because even as the kids have grown up what else would I be doing but juggling?

It’s very easy to become overwhelmed as one imagines that there isn’t enough hours in the day while looking at that calendar.

Very easy.

I look at my coffee mug and smirk thinking that yes, I’m just going to have to deal with it.

DEAL!

When it comes to this year I just need to hitch up my big girl panties and just get stuff done.

Leap.

Without fear of failure.

This last year, with a big gulp and a swallow, I began to try to learn and understand just who I am. With a lot of help, I am learning how to be content that I am enough for me and me alone. I’m not perfect and I never will be but I am enough. Enough to take on the hard things, and be okay if everything doesn’t fall into place as planned. It will be okay to not have everything figured out. It will be okay because I am going to just deal with it. I am going to remind myself (often I imagine) that you don’t always need a plan. Sometimes you just need to breathe, trust, let go and see what happens. Sometimes you just need to deal.

In 2015 there will be good days, bad days and ugly days. And with a little luck, hopefully there will be some great days too. Each day I will face and I will deal with it, as I always do. But this year I will deal with intention.