Revisiting Resolutions

I realize it's past the middle of the year, but forgive me. I was in paradise (aka Whitefish, Montana) for the past month doing almost nothing.  Now that I have returned home, I see the sun faded list of New Year's Resolutions that I keep on my kitchen window sill.  It sits just above the sink. Thus, when I find my demented version of solitude while washing dishes, I am gently reminded of those goals I made.  I was kind to myself this year and did not put weight loss on my list.  Though, who's kidding whom?  That has been on my mental, not so gentle, list since I gave birth almost five years ago. Now, as I reflect on my progress and growth, I feel good about how my level of awareness has increased.
Here's the list:
1) Five minute meditation daily.  Ommm. I really needed this at the beginning of the year and accomplished it most days back then.  It definitely made a difference.  Now, I don't feel as frazzled as I was feeling back then, but will prioritize to make time for it again.  Today, I did it at the playground while Husband played with Peanut in this wretched heat. On a shaded bench,  I closed my eyes and relished in the melodies of the cicadas for five minutes.  A little bit of heaven.
2) Breathe more deeply.  An acupuncturist told me I needed to do this upon our first meeting.  He also told me I was too hard on myself.  I had barely told him anything about myself.  I find that by meditating more, I also breathe more deeply.  However, I catch myself still too often being a shallow breather.  Raising awareness!!
3) Practice patience.  Funny how these all help each other.  I can see a lot of growth with this one.  Though, parenting a clever and sometimes sassy 4 year old tests me quite often.  If it's really tough, I breathe deeply and give myself a 5 minute time out to meditate.  : )
4) More water, less wheat.  Back in January/February, I became a gluten-free, sugar-free vegan.  For 21 days.  Astonishingly, I killed no one during this time.  My awareness about how much wheat I eat was definitely raised. I also realized it makes me feel thick, like there's an extra layer of blubber? between my skin and my muscles. It can so easily creep in to my diet.  Toast here.  Sandwich there.  Pasta for dinner.  Too much, too often.  This one, I must revisit.  The more H2O thing is much easier now that I have a fridge with a water filter thing-a-ma-jiggy on the door.
5) Much less sugar.  Actually, this one is capitalized with exclamation points.  Here's the thing. I am a mindless eater of sugar.  I get a sweet tooth, open the cabinet to find the candy stash that Peanut got from school, and before I know it I have devoured more candy than I care to admit and few stale marshmallows for good measure.  What's that about?  Confessional time:  I'll even scarf down the final contents of a bag of whatever crap it is, just so it won't be in my house tomorrow.  Once I started freeing myself of this mindlessness, I lost the cravings.  But they come back quick. I have never been a drug user, but there is definitely some kind of addiction to sugar going on here.  Must get back on track.

It feels good not to beat myself up for slacking off here and there.  See. Those five minutes are making a difference.  So much that I even practice patience with myself. We are on this journey together, friends.

Beautiful Sadness

Life is funny.  I am not talking about a hilarious funny, though thank god quite often it's that too. I mean wonderfully peculiar.  I have been in the beauty of Montana for the past month.  "Beauty" doesn't even begin to do it justice.  I am talking about the kind of beauty that heals the soul.  When I arrived a month ago, I had no idea my soul would need so much healing.  I also had no idea I was pregnant.  After about a week here, and my cycle did not begin, the boobs were getting ridiculous and I woke up in the middle of the night craving a bowl of Cheerios. I knew something was up. Husband and I were surprised and cautiously optimistic.   We've been down this road before.  This past year I was told that I have reduced ovarian function and my only hope for a baby would be adoption.  So, I allowed myself to sleep as much as I could.  Husband worked on the show he was directing while Peanut and I enjoyed the great outdoors of Montana and the great indoors of a fabulous gym here with an awesome pool.  I arranged play dates, easy outings, ate a lot of snacks to alleviate the morning sickness, and drank water like a fish.  We had a sonogram and learned that at about 7 weeks along there was no longer a heartbeat.  We've also been down this road before.  Sadness.  Deep sadness and disappointment.  Heartache.  All still too familiar to me.  However, as I drove myself up the mountain where we were staying, I realized that if one was going to be doing some suffering, suffering in beauty was the best place to be.  The towering trees. The still snow-covered mountains of Glacier National Park in the distance.  The bluest sky ever seen.  The deer that stare at me, taking me in, and then literally floating through the woods. The birds singing songs of hope to me as I went for a walk with my dog.   These things reminded me of the wonder of life.  All life.  What a miracle it all is.   This was the gift of beautiful sadness.

Lessons from Peanut

One day shortly after I learned that I was pregnant with Peanut, I was driving down a Tennessee highway behind a horse trailer, and I realized that I would probably be there when this child I was carrying would learn what a horse was.  A simple thought, yet it was a huge moment for me. Obviously, I have seen Peanut discover many other things beyond horses, and it has been a treat.  Too often in my parenthooding (new word), I have focused on what I am teaching her and what lessons she is learning.  I try to strike up conversations in the car about choosing friends, being kind, sharing with other less fortunate, etc.  Let's face it.  I have a wealth of vast wisdom that she needs to glean from me every available second, right?  Hmmm.
This weekend, we went antiquing.  Peanut loves it.  If there was money to be made as an obscure doll-finder, she'd be our million dollar kid. I love that about her.  I stood in this giant antique hall and heard myself say for the 50th time, "Come on.  We are moving along now.  You have to stay with us."  Yada, yada, yada.  I hate those phrases coming out of my mouth so much.  So I stopped.  And I let her teach me.  She showed me the beauty of slowing down so you don't miss something that could be quite special.  Peanut Life Lesson #1.  She taught me that just because something was originally made to be some sort of thing-a-ma-jig for a car battery, doesn't mean it can't be a perfect pretend thermometer for a sick dolly. Many things have many uses if we open our minds and play.  Peanut Life Lesson #2. She demonstrated the wonder of discovery.  Seeing giant Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls were a big thing and merited an in depth conversation with them, no matter who might be watching or listening.  No need to filter oneself or be self-conscious. Peanut Life Lesson #3. On the way home she was singing along to a Broadway Kids album like she was making her debut on the Great White Way. Whatever you love to do, do it with complete abandon. Peanut Life Lesson #4.  So I will be paying more attention to this adorable little teacher because she has a lot to teach me and I have a lot to learn. Peanut Life Lesson #5.

Rants and Raves

I can't hold this in.  Something really bothered me today and I am going to share.  Here's the rant: I was shopping with Peanut today at Kohl's, a nice all-American kind of store.  Nothing cutting edge about Kohl's, really.  I like it more now that Vera Wang is on board, but they still are not the go to place for me if I want to be hip or cool looking.  Imagine my shock today when looking for new pj's in the girls section size 4-6x to find an entire RACK (pun intended) of bras for girls ... size 4-6x.  Speechless, for a second, then  confusion sets in.  Who in the world is buying a bra for a girl this age/size? Somebody must be or I am sure Candie's wouldn't be making them.  FYI, the website says for girls size 7-16.  The store had a sign on the rack "4-6x". Now I am a mom that probably painted my daughter's nails earlier than some and even lets her wear lip gloss, when she wants "make-up".  But make up and nails are fun!!! Bras are uncomfortable, restrictive and honestly not that necessary if you are an A cup and/or  haven't graduated from kindergarten yet. If I could, I would go without one all the time, but a little weight gain and 13 months of breast feeding will no longer allow that. In my opinion, the only time a bra is fun is when someone else is taking it off of you. Is there anyone out there who can explain this to me?  (The pre-k bra thing.  I've got the fun thing about bras covered.) I was wondering if Kohl's also provides a salesperson dressed like a Bratz doll to give Peanut a proper bra fitting. Should I expect to find Dora print thongs next?

Oh look, something positive!  A rave:  I am a new fan of cream eyeshadow.  Maybelline has a great color trio that I love.  Looks great with my hazel eyes.  Takes maybe 5 seconds to put on.  Fingers do fine by me. Slap on some eyeliner, usually powder  with help of a brush(10 seconds, or 2 minutes if I am digging for said brush), and mascara (20 seconds, 30 if I curl them). In less than a minute, I look like a million bucks.  Well, at least 50 bucks!

Another rant:

Dear big name peanut butter makers,

    If you are going to jump into the all natural peanut butter arena, don't add sugar to it and call it natural.  Last time I checked, natural means to come from nature. Peanuts in natural form don't have sugar in them. Just stick to the partially hydrogenated crap you make, if you aren't gonna do it right.  And people, you must read your labels if you really want to make informed healthy choices. 

Rave: Hulu and all other networks and sites that let me watch my fave TV shows online.  Our TV is busted and it happened at the worst time.  I was sick, just took Peanut to school and came home to make my comfy palette on the couch and watch/sleep to trashy TV for the better part of the day.  

This is what I saw. Giant gasp!!!!!!!

That was 4 weeks ago. Now, we bought this TV at least 10 years ago  at "Nobody Beats The Wiz".  It was the floor sample.  The remote had been hot glued to the side of it. I was not stunned that the TV gave out on us.  I didn't get to see any paternity tests or hear a redneck crowd yell, "Jerry! Jerry!"  that day. However, thanks to  Hulu and many other network websites, I can still watch my shows.  So, we have put off replacing the outdated, oversized television until we find a great deal on a flat screen.  Plus with hulu you get to see the funnier clips of SNL without enduring the slow, not funny sketches.  I am all caught up on The Good Wife, Parenthood, Brothers and Sisters, Grey's Anatomy, The Voice and even my mindless, guilty pleasure since high school, The Young and the Restless. Cue music to "Nadia's Theme".

                 

Messages

Lately, I have been thinking about messages.  What kind of messages do I listen to?  What kind of messages do I send?  What kind of messages does my daughter hear?  Our world?

A few months ago, I read a book called "Cinderella Ate My Daughter".  This really got me to thinking about messages we are sending young girls.  I have a bittersweet relationship with all things princess and Barbie.  I mean, I played with Barbies for hours on end as a little girl.  I had the airplane that folded up kind of like a suitcase.  Loved it!  I had the big Barbie head that you could do her hair.  I honestly believe this was the beginning of my obsession with hair. My little Peanut has loved Disney Princesses since her first viewing of "Cinderella". Harmless, right? I think she was 2.  She cried when it was over, not understanding that we could watch it again.  Oh, how sweet, I thought.  This reconnects me to my chidhood.  I was in "Beauty and the Beast" and she loves Belle. Yada, yada, yada.  However, the flip side of this is am I teaching my daughter that the prince is the only one who can save us?  Fulfillment can only be found in romantic love? Should girls aspire to be the image of Barbie to feel confident? Peggy Orentstein raises these questions plus many others about the way too early sexualization of little girls and what it means to be feminine.  I don't always agree with her.  I believe there should be a balance and this book raised my awareness about the messages I let Peanut hear.

Mothering surely brings responsibility to what messages I personally send to Peanut.  She watches every move I make and is like a sponge.  No worries, I started the "therapy fund" the day after she was born. The other day she brought me an ad from a "Southern Living" mag  and asked so sweetly, "Mom, why don't you ever look like that?".  The add was for a department store.  The add was for jewelry and the model was shot from her bare shoulders up.  Her hair was pulled back in some sort of simple up-do.  She was wearing simple make-up with a brighter shade of lipstick.  Her neck was draped with bold and bright necklaces.  My response, after a little chuckle, was, "Wow, she looks nice, right?".  Hmmmmm.  What was Peanut getting at?  Does she think I need to accessorize more?  I probably do.  More lipstick?  It's possible.  Or is it that this woman looks, confident, at ease with herself and ready to take on the world?  I could surely stand to have  more of that in my life.  It was a funny moment when Peanut asked this perfectly innocent question of me.  But I really began to think about what she is learning from me.

I won't get all political here,  but I indeed thought of the messages sent as the world digested the news of the death of an evil man last week.  I can't even bring myself to mention his name in this blog. I just kept asking myself what kind of citizen of the human race am I and what messages  do I proclaim to the world?

Finally, I wonder what messages I send to myself.  Yesterday, I took the extra few minutes to make myself a yummy spinach salad with strawberries, pecans, avocado and balsamic vinaigrette.  A simple task.  But usually, I throw whatever leftovers we might have in my bag and run for the door, exclaiming, "Come on! We are late!". As I was taking the timing to chop the fruit, I asked myself why I don't do this more often. What am I telling myself when I don't take the time to make a healthy and enjoyable meal for myself?  Honestly, our leftovers are pretty healthy.  Or paint my toes? Or linger in bed a little longer to read a book? The point is, why don't I take the time to nurture myself?  These are messages I not only sending to myself, but Peanut and Husband as well. To quote Dr Phil, " You give people permission for how they can treat you." Let's all do a collective rolling of the eyes that I am quoting him.  However, I do believe it and I believe it begins with how they see us treat ourselves.

To Do List: Things to do for yourself

#1  Give your underwear an overhaul. I was getting ready for bed the other night, when I noticed and chuckled at the size of my bra as I was removing it.  This is the most comfortable bra I have ever owned and it's not because it was super expensive.  I am not even sure where or when it was purchased.  I think it feels so good to wear because I was fitted by a pro. The cup size sounds shockingly big to me because I am not someone they called "Jugs" in college. However, this is the size recommended to me.  Okay I'll just spit it out.  It's a 34D. Yes, a D cup!  "Take that!" I say to the girls in the 7th grade who put a contraption in my locker that was basically a Thighmaster for bigger boobs.  It was a cheap plastic pink thing shaped like two ovals with a strong spring in the middle that one would squeeze, I assume : / while chanting, "I must. I must. I must increase my bust." Whew!  That felt good to get off my chest. Back to the To Do List.  Women, go see a professional bra fitter.  You won't regret it and will probably be shocked at how many years you have been wearing the wrong size.  I was wearing a 32 or 34B.  Ouch. We all know that our bodies change as we age and breasts are no exception.  Gravity is just not kind to that area, so go get a little help. We can still look perky at any age and say good-bye to the extra rolls our bras give us by digging into our skin. Men, since you don't wear bras, please for heaven's sake, throw out the holey underwear.  I recently heard a quote where you can tell the state of the economy by looking in a man's underwear and sock drawer. So true, right? Well, if things are tight, waistbands included, then keep an eye out for a sale at Target and buy yourselves a different kind of six pack.

#2 Turn off the noise.  I was sitting in front of the TV after putting Peanut to bed and nothing was on. Husband was gone. I don't have DVR, so I couldn't just watch something I like to watch that I had taped.  Usually, my routine would be to watch a show and do the dishes and picking up during commercials.  But this particular night, I just turned it off.  I did the dishes in silence. Ahhh, silence. I had forgotten you. Normally, I might have otherwise chosen to listen to some tunes. I listened instead to the sound of the wind(I am in Oklahoma.  There's lots of it!) and the tip tap of my dogs toes on our wood floor.  I remained in silence for the rest of the night. And I actually was much more productive. I moved on to some hand-washables, a more strenuous cleaning of my stovetop, and sat down to read a book.  It soothed my soul more than a repeat of Oprah or a the "kuh-kuh" sound of Law and Order: SVU ever could.  I felt a bit decadent. Try it.

#3 See a therapist.  No, seriously.  This is the God's honest truth. I can think of no better way to spend your money than to see a professional who can reveal and help you change those patterns you might be doing over and over and over again.  It's just pretty simple in my book.  You won't regret this one for sure.  Seriously. The best gift you can give to yourself.

Three Little Words

The title of this post could be misleading.  While I believe that hearing the words "I Love You" and hearing them often is crucial, that' s not where I am heading today.  Some nights "Red Wine Now" could be the three most important words I say.  But I am not talking about soothing my stressful soul with an alcoholic libation either.  Here's the story...( of a lovely lady, just kidding)...
It's a Friday evening.  It's hot. 90 degrees. Our AC isn't working.  Husband has been working more hours than any person should. He is choreographing the musical at the university where he teaches, on top of his already crazy heavy load as a professor.  So his time at home has been limited.  Like only home for dinner for maybe 2 hours and then it's back to school. He couldn't be a more attentive father and husband. I adore this man.  One of the reasons I adore him is because he is so great at playing with our daughter.  She has a vast imagination and he happily pretends to be Gaston, Lefou, Ursula and King Triton all in one story.  Back to the Friday.  Did I say it was hot?  They were outside playing, in the middle of a very tense moment for Ariel, I assume.  I am preparing dinner, as much in the  microwave as possible so I don't raise the temp of our already sun baked kitchen. I asked Peanut if she would please feed the dog.  "No, I am playing with my dad." Ok.  I get it.  Choosing battles.  She has had a few meltdowns over missing him. To husband. "Could you please feed the dog?"  I get a little grumbling about spending time with Peanut, but he does in fact, feed the dog.  I stew for a moment. I have stewing down to an art some days. I begin to recall the plate from breakfast that gets left on the table as he rushes out the door .  I count every pair of shoes in the middle of the floor, just from where I am standing.  Okay, I admit, a couple are mine. Then I stop myself and resolve to speak up at dinner to say three very important and powerful little words.
Here goes : I need help.
I didn't raise my voice, shed a tear, or get all defensive and list all the many times I wasn't helped. I just made the statement.  They listened and said, "OK."  The rest of our dinner that followed was lovely.

This was a huge lesson for me.  There are so many things in life I can't control. I can't even control on what level Husband and Peanut will actually help, which has been superb, by the way.  However, I can control how I react.  I can control how I proceed when faced with something that could very easily piss tick me off.  (That's for my mom,  She hates the "p" word). I can either simply and undramatically state what  I need or I can brood over it for the next 5 hours and verbally attack Husband when he comes through the door late after a grueling rehearsal.  That's so not fun or pretty and really puts a damper on any possibility of either of us getting lucky later. Plus,  I am teaching Peanut by example how to ask for what you need without manipulation and I am including her in the tasks of being a family. It felt so good not to be the martyr.
I began to think about this lesson further beyond being a mom and/or wife.  How many times in my life have I needed to say these words to a friend, to a family member, a boss?  I need help.  My life is overwhelming. I need validation, etc. Just state it simply with no defenses. Not mull it over in my mind a million times and play a strong hand of guilt or slip so comfortably into my victim costume.  Let me confess that costume is worn out.
It's time to don our Wonder Woman costumes, do our best Lynda Carter spin and enlist the help of our fellow super heros.