After years of saying the same thing every morning, you'd think my son would get it by now. I know, he's a teenager. He apparently is more typical than I realized as he has no common sense early in the day.
His morning routine consists of chomping on his breakfast while watching his favorite YouTubers on his laptop. Honestly, I don't understand the appeal of watching videos of people either playing video games or ranting on about who knows what. Maybe it's just me, but these professional vloggers have the most annoying voices on the planet. Again, the appeal is lost on me.
My consistent plea is for him to simply use his headphones. That's it. The easiest solution to an enjoyable morning for both of us. Despite this being what I see as a no-brainer, my child insists on letting the nerve-grating commentary filter through the house at far too loud a volume. Earbuds or headset — it matters little to me, just plug the damn things in and continue to be entertained by things I will never appreciate, so I can have my coffee in peace.
We all have our way of welcoming the new day and it's best if we carry it out without dominating someone else's space. For me, I like a quiet start. I have a routine that works for me and doesn't impede anyone else in my home. Every morning I make the bed, change into whatever I'm going to workout in, then head downstairs. I wash my face, put my eyes (contacts) in, brush my teeth, and yes, pee. Then it's off to the kitchen to fill my water bottle and get the coffee going. I sit with my laptop and peruse the web, often at least starting a blog post. All of this is done making virtually no noise.
I have never been a bubbly morning person. The older I get the easier it is to drag myself from the comfort and warmth of my bed, but I still need a quiet introduction to the day. Right now, my son is sitting beside me with his laptop on his lap, empty cereal bowl to his right and both thumbs tapping away on his phone. I don't particularly like that he is so technologically dependent, but am I not doing the same? Neither one of us is up for riveting conversation when we first awake, and routine (providing it isn't adversely affecting those around us) is a good thing.
When I skip any of the things that comprise my early hours, it will occasionally throw the rest of my day off a bit. Were either of us, no, both of us capable of carrying on engaging dialogue first thing in the morning, my preference would be to set aside distractions and talk. Since we all need ample time to rouse ourselves into a space that is adequate for socializing and interacting with other humans, I'll settle for the kid just using his damned earbuds without me nagging him to do so.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
I Hate Politics
I have an aversion to politics. This includes debates. I don't see the relevance of staged discussions that are more often than not mired in lies.
The argument that we must vote for the lesser of the evils will never sit well with me. When I vote, I want to vote my conscience, not for the boob who's less offensive. I do research my options, though not as much as I probably ought to. The thing is, in order to do our due diligence when it comes to getting to know more about our candidates, their track records, and their agendas, it would be a full-time job with mandatory overtime. This is the reason stumping and debates exist.
My problem with this is that someone else (many different someones) are pre-packaging what they want us to know. Granted, this is essentially what it takes to even run for public office — but how are the pictures that are carefully crafted the same as being truly informed? I just don't think the current state of politics is based on anything besides corruption and greed, so trusting all the so-called examples of a front runner's experience and likelihood to be the best for a particular office isn't something I'm willing to do.
Ok, I get it. Things don't get better and they don't change if everyone buries their heads in the sand. That isn't what I'm suggesting. For me, watching debates is like a kid being forced to eat the vegetable they hate the most. It might have some benefits for his health, but the stress his body goes through attempting to resist at first, and then eventually succumbing to the pressure and choking down each and every bite until his plate is clear just isn't worth it in the end. Forcing myself to sit and watch two proven liars supply answers to questions that are supposed to gain the voting public's trust, and more importantly, their votes, isn't worth the irritation and anger that will rise up inside me and black out precious positive energy.
I don't expect any candidate — for president or any other public office, to be perfect. There are always things we as voters will have to weigh and decide if we can live with or without. The thing is, the two most likely options don't possess enough in the way of redeeming or admirable qualities for me to cast my vote in their favor. It's far too much of a compromise with either of them then I'm comfortable sitting with. My conscience would take too long to recover were I to adopt the 'lesser of the evils' approach when I close the curtain behind me in November.
There is absolutely nothing good about Trump. Everything about him is slimy, twisted, arrogant and just downright evil. He is toxic in the most obvious ways, yet the amount of people who are choosing to believe in him is jaw dropping. Clinton, well she may have a decent quality or two, but it isn't enough to sway me in her direction. I don't trust her. Despite having the common ground of being American, white, female and mother, she does not, nor has she ever exemplified strength, femininity, or trustworthiness. When it comes to these candidates, there is not a better choice. There's only marginally less awful in my opinion, and that, at least for me isn't remotely good enough.
Somehow, I will continue to go about my life resisting the insistence that I consume that hated vegetable. I am certain I can continue to thrive by getting better nutrients elsewhere, and it won't compromise who I am in the process. There are many other options out there, and I'm certain I will like some of them quite a lot.
The argument that we must vote for the lesser of the evils will never sit well with me. When I vote, I want to vote my conscience, not for the boob who's less offensive. I do research my options, though not as much as I probably ought to. The thing is, in order to do our due diligence when it comes to getting to know more about our candidates, their track records, and their agendas, it would be a full-time job with mandatory overtime. This is the reason stumping and debates exist.
My problem with this is that someone else (many different someones) are pre-packaging what they want us to know. Granted, this is essentially what it takes to even run for public office — but how are the pictures that are carefully crafted the same as being truly informed? I just don't think the current state of politics is based on anything besides corruption and greed, so trusting all the so-called examples of a front runner's experience and likelihood to be the best for a particular office isn't something I'm willing to do.
Ok, I get it. Things don't get better and they don't change if everyone buries their heads in the sand. That isn't what I'm suggesting. For me, watching debates is like a kid being forced to eat the vegetable they hate the most. It might have some benefits for his health, but the stress his body goes through attempting to resist at first, and then eventually succumbing to the pressure and choking down each and every bite until his plate is clear just isn't worth it in the end. Forcing myself to sit and watch two proven liars supply answers to questions that are supposed to gain the voting public's trust, and more importantly, their votes, isn't worth the irritation and anger that will rise up inside me and black out precious positive energy.
I don't expect any candidate — for president or any other public office, to be perfect. There are always things we as voters will have to weigh and decide if we can live with or without. The thing is, the two most likely options don't possess enough in the way of redeeming or admirable qualities for me to cast my vote in their favor. It's far too much of a compromise with either of them then I'm comfortable sitting with. My conscience would take too long to recover were I to adopt the 'lesser of the evils' approach when I close the curtain behind me in November.
There is absolutely nothing good about Trump. Everything about him is slimy, twisted, arrogant and just downright evil. He is toxic in the most obvious ways, yet the amount of people who are choosing to believe in him is jaw dropping. Clinton, well she may have a decent quality or two, but it isn't enough to sway me in her direction. I don't trust her. Despite having the common ground of being American, white, female and mother, she does not, nor has she ever exemplified strength, femininity, or trustworthiness. When it comes to these candidates, there is not a better choice. There's only marginally less awful in my opinion, and that, at least for me isn't remotely good enough.
Somehow, I will continue to go about my life resisting the insistence that I consume that hated vegetable. I am certain I can continue to thrive by getting better nutrients elsewhere, and it won't compromise who I am in the process. There are many other options out there, and I'm certain I will like some of them quite a lot.
Round, Red and Reminiscent Of The Past
Apple picking is one fall activity I have never tired of. My sons no longer want to accompany me, but thankfully I have other people in my life who also enjoy it. This past weekend was the first time I'd ventured to an orchard I'd never been to before. While the familiarity of my usual choice was missing, the experience of walking through rows of apple trees was much the same.
I grew up running around an apple orchard. My mother worked in one before I was born, packing apples. Her first husband worked there, as did his father. I remember my then-grandfather giving me rides on the forklift, touring the cider press room (that smell is something I won't ever forget), and seeing the large crates of apples stacked high all around. There is no other smell quite as intense for me, bringing me back to my childhood, as the smell of apples in an orchard storehouse.
I have little doubt that my love for baking with apples is because the house fills with memories of growing up. Of course, as much as I love inhaling the heavenly aroma of baking apples, eating them raw is my favorite. Right off the apple tree.
There's an unwritten, widely accepted, and frequently utilized practice of testing the apples while picking them. Each and every time I find myself in an orchard, I make certain to try one or two of the season's offerings. Fresh apples are always the best, and you can't get much fresher than right off the branch. I rarely eat apples any other time of the year, simply because they just don't taste as good. Low-carb diet or not, during apple picking season, I will get my fill of this near perfect fruit.
I grew up running around an apple orchard. My mother worked in one before I was born, packing apples. Her first husband worked there, as did his father. I remember my then-grandfather giving me rides on the forklift, touring the cider press room (that smell is something I won't ever forget), and seeing the large crates of apples stacked high all around. There is no other smell quite as intense for me, bringing me back to my childhood, as the smell of apples in an orchard storehouse.
I have little doubt that my love for baking with apples is because the house fills with memories of growing up. Of course, as much as I love inhaling the heavenly aroma of baking apples, eating them raw is my favorite. Right off the apple tree.
There's an unwritten, widely accepted, and frequently utilized practice of testing the apples while picking them. Each and every time I find myself in an orchard, I make certain to try one or two of the season's offerings. Fresh apples are always the best, and you can't get much fresher than right off the branch. I rarely eat apples any other time of the year, simply because they just don't taste as good. Low-carb diet or not, during apple picking season, I will get my fill of this near perfect fruit.
Monday, September 26, 2016
It's Time To Step Up
Years ago, I pulled myself away from all the 'news' channels, stopped reading article after article about whatever tragedy or big news was the media's focus, and was able to concentrate on living a more positive, proactive life.
By no means am I an activist or even a good example of being the change I want to see in the world. I just know that weighing my mind and soul down with half-truths and sensationalized events is no way to contribute anything positive to the world around me. Instead of letting myself be barraged by all the negativity and slanted views, I'm putting my energy into being a better version of me than I was the day before. This includes being more than tolerant of others; I can't allow the urge to judge people to take over and add to the already tenuous climate we live in.
I grew up during a time when equal rights only seemed to apply to select groups. Women were still expected to be somewhat subservient, and like now, were not compensated at the same rate of pay for the same effort as their male counterparts. There was no equality among races, homosexuality was still viewed as unnatural and wrong, and transgender was barely talked about. Despite how it may have looked, we were undergoing some incredible changes as a society, paving the way for some of the breakthroughs we've experienced recently. Marriage equality, the beginning of transgender acknowledgment, and women, well, I suppose we've made a few gains here and there. We are still receiving less pay for the same job as a male is paid. While we have made forward progress within the military, the average working wife/mother is still pulling double duty as homemaker — after putting in a full day's work. That isn't to say that this is as prevalent as it was 20 years ago, but household duties like cleaning, cooking, and family caregiving are still largely seen as a woman's 'job'.
I can't say as I have seen much in the way of notable change when it comes to race relations. I know there have been positive changes in some parts of the country, but other areas are still mired in the 'us against them' mentality. I want to see a day when the color of someone's skin, their gender, their sexual preference and their cultural heritage aren't seen as wrong. We can't base our opinion of others on these factors, it makes absolutely no sense and just fuels the fires of hate and aggression. Far too many people have died in the name of fear, hate, and intolerance. How am I any more acceptable to the world around me than someone who's skin is darker or someone who follows a different religion? How does my gender still limit my professional progression in life, or dictate how I am treated? Why does the color of someone skin still determine worth, innocence/guilt, or trust?
The practice of discrimination has got to end. When crimes are committed, they are carried out by people who lack integrity, a moral compass, and the will to live an honest live, not because of the color of their skin. We tell our children to be wary of strangers because you cannot tell who is 'good' and who is 'bad' simply by looking at them. How is it as adults we've forgotten this? I cannot base my knowledge, fear or apprehension on the appearance of a person — and that includes the color of their skin. We need to start seeing the world in a better light. There will be times when we look past some outward aspect of a person and they wrong us anyway. That does not mean we jump to the conclusion that all people with this or a similar aspect, trait, defining characteristic are the same as that one person. Let's start shedding old fears and outdated thoughts about one another. There is no hope for a better world if we cling to hate and negative energy.
By no means am I an activist or even a good example of being the change I want to see in the world. I just know that weighing my mind and soul down with half-truths and sensationalized events is no way to contribute anything positive to the world around me. Instead of letting myself be barraged by all the negativity and slanted views, I'm putting my energy into being a better version of me than I was the day before. This includes being more than tolerant of others; I can't allow the urge to judge people to take over and add to the already tenuous climate we live in.
I grew up during a time when equal rights only seemed to apply to select groups. Women were still expected to be somewhat subservient, and like now, were not compensated at the same rate of pay for the same effort as their male counterparts. There was no equality among races, homosexuality was still viewed as unnatural and wrong, and transgender was barely talked about. Despite how it may have looked, we were undergoing some incredible changes as a society, paving the way for some of the breakthroughs we've experienced recently. Marriage equality, the beginning of transgender acknowledgment, and women, well, I suppose we've made a few gains here and there. We are still receiving less pay for the same job as a male is paid. While we have made forward progress within the military, the average working wife/mother is still pulling double duty as homemaker — after putting in a full day's work. That isn't to say that this is as prevalent as it was 20 years ago, but household duties like cleaning, cooking, and family caregiving are still largely seen as a woman's 'job'.
I can't say as I have seen much in the way of notable change when it comes to race relations. I know there have been positive changes in some parts of the country, but other areas are still mired in the 'us against them' mentality. I want to see a day when the color of someone's skin, their gender, their sexual preference and their cultural heritage aren't seen as wrong. We can't base our opinion of others on these factors, it makes absolutely no sense and just fuels the fires of hate and aggression. Far too many people have died in the name of fear, hate, and intolerance. How am I any more acceptable to the world around me than someone who's skin is darker or someone who follows a different religion? How does my gender still limit my professional progression in life, or dictate how I am treated? Why does the color of someone skin still determine worth, innocence/guilt, or trust?
The practice of discrimination has got to end. When crimes are committed, they are carried out by people who lack integrity, a moral compass, and the will to live an honest live, not because of the color of their skin. We tell our children to be wary of strangers because you cannot tell who is 'good' and who is 'bad' simply by looking at them. How is it as adults we've forgotten this? I cannot base my knowledge, fear or apprehension on the appearance of a person — and that includes the color of their skin. We need to start seeing the world in a better light. There will be times when we look past some outward aspect of a person and they wrong us anyway. That does not mean we jump to the conclusion that all people with this or a similar aspect, trait, defining characteristic are the same as that one person. Let's start shedding old fears and outdated thoughts about one another. There is no hope for a better world if we cling to hate and negative energy.
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Ok, So I Don't Hate Fall
My child brought home a bag of candy corn today. I love candy corn. All I have to do is smell them and I'm doomed. This time of year makes it tough to avoid sugar overload.
Aside from the intense chill in the air, I rather enjoy most things about fall. Candy corn is just one of the many things I look forward to and luckily it's the only one that isn't good for me. I do wish I had a bit more self-control when it came to that orange and white confection.
Flannel. This might just be my favorite fall attire. Since I loathe being cold, flannel is almost priceless. And flannel won't throw my carb count out the window. I might miss my flip flops, but my many cozy pairs of slippers are great at consoling my feet until warm weather welcomes them again.
Fall is the perfect time to heat up the oven and bake. The only problem is that I have to resist the urge to eat everything I make. Thankfully, there are get-togethers and holiday parties for me to bring most of cookies and breads I bake to. Comfort foods in general, are something I enjoy making. Stews, roasts, and casseroles are among my top choices. Warmth, from the inside out.
None of these enjoyable things makes me hate the colder weather any less, but they do make it easier to tolerate. I get through the fall and winter because of the feel good energy they all bring with them. If I have to endure the falling leaves, dropping temperatures and shorter days, then it's better to have some coping tools to get through. I don't hate fall, after all, it prepares me for the frigid and white, drab months that follow.
Aside from the intense chill in the air, I rather enjoy most things about fall. Candy corn is just one of the many things I look forward to and luckily it's the only one that isn't good for me. I do wish I had a bit more self-control when it came to that orange and white confection.
Flannel. This might just be my favorite fall attire. Since I loathe being cold, flannel is almost priceless. And flannel won't throw my carb count out the window. I might miss my flip flops, but my many cozy pairs of slippers are great at consoling my feet until warm weather welcomes them again.
Fall is the perfect time to heat up the oven and bake. The only problem is that I have to resist the urge to eat everything I make. Thankfully, there are get-togethers and holiday parties for me to bring most of cookies and breads I bake to. Comfort foods in general, are something I enjoy making. Stews, roasts, and casseroles are among my top choices. Warmth, from the inside out.
None of these enjoyable things makes me hate the colder weather any less, but they do make it easier to tolerate. I get through the fall and winter because of the feel good energy they all bring with them. If I have to endure the falling leaves, dropping temperatures and shorter days, then it's better to have some coping tools to get through. I don't hate fall, after all, it prepares me for the frigid and white, drab months that follow.
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Sometimes You Just Have To Give It A Try
I'll admit, I wasn't on board at first. I couldn't see the point and questioned the comfortability — right up until I spent a half hour throwing caution to the wind. After months of seeing advertisements and consistently avoiding displays while shopping, I finally caved and bought a bralette. I'm hooked ;)
Bras are, in my opinion, torture devices created for maximum irritation and discomfort. Sure, they serve the purpose of preserving the uptight, female body-shaming societal norms we've grown accustomed to living with. They reduce the amount of jiggle produced when women walk, laugh and most definitely when they run. The claim of support has long been proven false, yet we cannot break with decorum for comfort sake. That would just be silly. Why on earth should women be comfortable?
The bralette — at least the one I am currently wearing, it a far less confining version of the contraption we know as the bra. I didn't think these were meant for women with any measurable amount of breasts and to be fair, their capacity to cover parts effectively does have limits. While I know this is hardly a solution to the woes of underwires, pinching fabric and straps that refuse to stay put for all women, the bralette has given me a reprieve from constantly adjusting uncooperative bands and hooks. Yes, I've found my new favorite article of clothing, and I couldn't be happier.
Bras are, in my opinion, torture devices created for maximum irritation and discomfort. Sure, they serve the purpose of preserving the uptight, female body-shaming societal norms we've grown accustomed to living with. They reduce the amount of jiggle produced when women walk, laugh and most definitely when they run. The claim of support has long been proven false, yet we cannot break with decorum for comfort sake. That would just be silly. Why on earth should women be comfortable?
The bralette — at least the one I am currently wearing, it a far less confining version of the contraption we know as the bra. I didn't think these were meant for women with any measurable amount of breasts and to be fair, their capacity to cover parts effectively does have limits. While I know this is hardly a solution to the woes of underwires, pinching fabric and straps that refuse to stay put for all women, the bralette has given me a reprieve from constantly adjusting uncooperative bands and hooks. Yes, I've found my new favorite article of clothing, and I couldn't be happier.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
My Pace Isn't The Best Fit For Everyone
Sometimes it occurs to me that I can be a little too hard on other people. I'm a no-nonsense kind of person, for the most part, so in the thick of just-get-it-done and buck-up-honey, I often forget that my life has given me tools that others haven't ever used. This is not to say that I feel superior; more that every so often I am faced with the reality that I am not like a lot of people.
It is knee-jerk for me to saddle-up and ride, no matter how much life might kick, buck and try to throw me to the ground. Dealing with others, this is sometimes interpreted as harsh and uncaring, which couldn't be further from the truth. The delivery might not be appreciated or understood by some, but the emotions and thoughts behind my words are rooted in wanting the best for whomever I'm interacting with at that moment.
I was born with a bit of a stubborn streak. That tenacity mixed with some rough times has a way of changing a person. I got knocked down a lot from an early age. I could have let it all wear me down, but it only made me more determined to get back up and keep going. Maybe it isn't always the best approach, but I have no doubts that I can overcome anything because of it. That doesn't mean clearing the hurdles I face and will continue to face is any easier. It just means that I spend less time worrying about tripping and falling flat on my face than someone else might.
Failure and falling down aren't things I'm afraid of anymore, at least not often. I can't see the value in wasting my energy being embarrassed or feeling like I'm not qualified or good enough. If I put my all into something and it doesn't work out, or I fall flat on my face, I can always try again. Not to mention there is usually something of a lesson to be learned, all I have to do is focus on the experience and not the disappointment. By the same token, if I didn't put forth my best, I've gotten a great reminder of what you put in directly affects what you get in return.
This near black and white view works well for me, and for some of the people in my life. I just find that sometimes I need to remember that not everyone is able to process the information produced by experiences as quickly or in quite the same manner as I do. From my point of view, I see it as being easier to leave the non-essential distractions of inadequate feelings and the fear of making another mistake behind, but some people need to feel their way around their life. Sometimes that means surrounding themselves with the not-so-great feelings and aspects of an event gone awry until they've learned that those aren't the things that were important in the whole experience.
I don't know that I could slow my own approach to life and failure down, but I am aware that I can't expect everyone to operate at the same pace. There is something to be learned from engaging with all types of people, and with this I believe I will learn to be more empathetic and less matter-of-fact. The benefits of being able to continue pushing forward while finding the best way to support those who prefer to consider the entire emotional package of days gone wrong in the way they need - yeah, I think there's immense value in that.
It is knee-jerk for me to saddle-up and ride, no matter how much life might kick, buck and try to throw me to the ground. Dealing with others, this is sometimes interpreted as harsh and uncaring, which couldn't be further from the truth. The delivery might not be appreciated or understood by some, but the emotions and thoughts behind my words are rooted in wanting the best for whomever I'm interacting with at that moment.
I was born with a bit of a stubborn streak. That tenacity mixed with some rough times has a way of changing a person. I got knocked down a lot from an early age. I could have let it all wear me down, but it only made me more determined to get back up and keep going. Maybe it isn't always the best approach, but I have no doubts that I can overcome anything because of it. That doesn't mean clearing the hurdles I face and will continue to face is any easier. It just means that I spend less time worrying about tripping and falling flat on my face than someone else might.
Failure and falling down aren't things I'm afraid of anymore, at least not often. I can't see the value in wasting my energy being embarrassed or feeling like I'm not qualified or good enough. If I put my all into something and it doesn't work out, or I fall flat on my face, I can always try again. Not to mention there is usually something of a lesson to be learned, all I have to do is focus on the experience and not the disappointment. By the same token, if I didn't put forth my best, I've gotten a great reminder of what you put in directly affects what you get in return.
This near black and white view works well for me, and for some of the people in my life. I just find that sometimes I need to remember that not everyone is able to process the information produced by experiences as quickly or in quite the same manner as I do. From my point of view, I see it as being easier to leave the non-essential distractions of inadequate feelings and the fear of making another mistake behind, but some people need to feel their way around their life. Sometimes that means surrounding themselves with the not-so-great feelings and aspects of an event gone awry until they've learned that those aren't the things that were important in the whole experience.
I don't know that I could slow my own approach to life and failure down, but I am aware that I can't expect everyone to operate at the same pace. There is something to be learned from engaging with all types of people, and with this I believe I will learn to be more empathetic and less matter-of-fact. The benefits of being able to continue pushing forward while finding the best way to support those who prefer to consider the entire emotional package of days gone wrong in the way they need - yeah, I think there's immense value in that.
Muttering to Myself Saves Me From Throwing Tantrums At Times
Nothing irks me more than a person who doesn't do their job. Particularly when it impacts me being able to do mine well. We all have off days and make mistakes, but when the well-practiced do-nothing-while-looking-busy people of the world start trying to throw someone else under the bus to deflect their own shortcomings, I have a supremely difficult time shrugging it off.
I know that there is nothing I can do about someone else's actions and I can't let their choices get the better of me. It's just not easy to embrace that practice when a whole afternoon is turned inside out and my productivity tanks because someone failed to do their job. The extra energy my irritation creates doesn't have to be all for naught. With a little of the right music and the will to focus, I can usually dive in and start digging my way back out.
While I don't like being set back, I also don't like appearing unprofessional. Patriots' football is a totally different story, I mean I don't want my ability to remain collected and focused at work to be thwarted by some jackwagon dumping their half-assed efforts on my plate fucking up my flow. Sure, inside I'm seething for a few minutes, but the rest of the world doesn't have to witness it. That is reserved for the lucky few who are closest to me. Poor, unfortunate souls.
Today didn't end the way I had anticipated, but few things in life play out according to plan. During the few final hours, I realized I'm a whole lot better at what I do than I originally thought myself to be. I was able to turn the shit show I was handed into something useful, and I know that when I hand my work off to the next person who needs it to do their job, they won't be tossing back a Jameson like it's the elixir of life because I fucked up. They'll be drinking it because it's whiskey and whiskey is good.
I know that there is nothing I can do about someone else's actions and I can't let their choices get the better of me. It's just not easy to embrace that practice when a whole afternoon is turned inside out and my productivity tanks because someone failed to do their job. The extra energy my irritation creates doesn't have to be all for naught. With a little of the right music and the will to focus, I can usually dive in and start digging my way back out.
While I don't like being set back, I also don't like appearing unprofessional. Patriots' football is a totally different story, I mean I don't want my ability to remain collected and focused at work to be thwarted by some jackwagon dumping their half-assed efforts on my plate fucking up my flow. Sure, inside I'm seething for a few minutes, but the rest of the world doesn't have to witness it. That is reserved for the lucky few who are closest to me. Poor, unfortunate souls.
Today didn't end the way I had anticipated, but few things in life play out according to plan. During the few final hours, I realized I'm a whole lot better at what I do than I originally thought myself to be. I was able to turn the shit show I was handed into something useful, and I know that when I hand my work off to the next person who needs it to do their job, they won't be tossing back a Jameson like it's the elixir of life because I fucked up. They'll be drinking it because it's whiskey and whiskey is good.
Monday, September 19, 2016
On The Surface It Seems Selfish
Call me selfish, but I'm oh-so-happy my youngest son is eating meat again. For two years he was a pescatarian, which made my job cooking meals far more difficult. It was hard enough working around my own dietary restrictions and not forcing he and his brother to always eat like me. Add someone else's choice to eat selectively into the mix and it was like a damn restaurant in my kitchen.
His reasoning for the resistance to eating meat was moral, which I respect. His choice to let go of some of his hard lines on that morality came from a mix of not achieving his physical goals and finding he was getting sick more often. As a child who was raised a meat-eater, I don't believe he was diligent enough or prepared enough to succeed long-term with this lifestyle choice. And yes, selfishly I am relieved.
My household has one person who can eat damn near everything, one who is allergic to and intolerant of several foods, and one who wrestles with the ugliness of how we get beef, pork, and poultry. I get where he was coming from, but from a busy, working mother's perspective, I just didn't have the time to consistently shop, prep and cook three different meals all the time. Even with his help, it never got easier. When you don't abstain from meat in your diet, it is quite difficult to make certain you're incorporating enough alternative sources of protein and nutrients in your child's diet.
I realize that people manage to do this all the time. They have members of their families with allergies and have to follow strict protocol when preparing everyone's food in order to avoid cross-contamination. For me it was just too much. My own ridiculous food issues keep me on my toes, so having to be even more focused on someone else's — yes, even my child's just became too challenging. I imagine if his health was dependent on it, I'd have figured out some way to make it work, but when a pescatarian gets most of their nutrients from foods a gluten intolerant/onion allergic person can't eat - there aren't many options for single entree meals.
We are now suspecting that this same child may have developed an onion allergy like me. He has yet to be tested for it, but all the symptoms are nearly identical to my own. This, in effect, rules out nearly all vegetarian pre-made foods (be they frozen or at a restaurant) if they contain vegetable broth, stock or are braised. Part of me suspects that he understands the difficulties he faced if he continued with his dietary choices if all his food had to be made at home.
I love to cook, but the past two years have taken the enjoyment out of it. Even eating has had little appeal far more often than I could have imagined. Being able to maintain the energy and time allotment needed to cook and prepare everything from scratch and having to get creative with substitutions and alternative ingredients requires more patience, hours in the day and assitance than I have. It isn't as though I'm taking shortcuts, our food is still prepared at home, from scratch more often than not. The ordeal is just less overwhelming when there aren't so many variables to consider.
For over a decade, I have been reading labels, asking what is in a dish, informing waitstaff of my onion allergy, and more recently avoiding gluten. As tough as it has been, I realize there are others who have far more restrictions and the demands of providing sustenance to themselves and their families are constant. I admire and at the same time feel for these people. When your whole enjoyment of life, health and well-being hinges on the food you consume, it is impossible not to obsess over everything you and your loved ones eat. Life shouldn't revolve around the fear that the wrong foods might accidentally be ingested, but sadly in a GMO world, allergies (and serious ones) continue to rise. It's become a more common place thing to understand and be aware of cross-contamination and that, people with restrictive diets aren't just being picky eaters, and as great as that is, the fact that it's necessary is just downright sad. When it comes down to thriving and minimizing physical pain and adverse reactions, I suppose the morality of eating meat is something many of us can't afford to consider.
His reasoning for the resistance to eating meat was moral, which I respect. His choice to let go of some of his hard lines on that morality came from a mix of not achieving his physical goals and finding he was getting sick more often. As a child who was raised a meat-eater, I don't believe he was diligent enough or prepared enough to succeed long-term with this lifestyle choice. And yes, selfishly I am relieved.
My household has one person who can eat damn near everything, one who is allergic to and intolerant of several foods, and one who wrestles with the ugliness of how we get beef, pork, and poultry. I get where he was coming from, but from a busy, working mother's perspective, I just didn't have the time to consistently shop, prep and cook three different meals all the time. Even with his help, it never got easier. When you don't abstain from meat in your diet, it is quite difficult to make certain you're incorporating enough alternative sources of protein and nutrients in your child's diet.
I realize that people manage to do this all the time. They have members of their families with allergies and have to follow strict protocol when preparing everyone's food in order to avoid cross-contamination. For me it was just too much. My own ridiculous food issues keep me on my toes, so having to be even more focused on someone else's — yes, even my child's just became too challenging. I imagine if his health was dependent on it, I'd have figured out some way to make it work, but when a pescatarian gets most of their nutrients from foods a gluten intolerant/onion allergic person can't eat - there aren't many options for single entree meals.
We are now suspecting that this same child may have developed an onion allergy like me. He has yet to be tested for it, but all the symptoms are nearly identical to my own. This, in effect, rules out nearly all vegetarian pre-made foods (be they frozen or at a restaurant) if they contain vegetable broth, stock or are braised. Part of me suspects that he understands the difficulties he faced if he continued with his dietary choices if all his food had to be made at home.
I love to cook, but the past two years have taken the enjoyment out of it. Even eating has had little appeal far more often than I could have imagined. Being able to maintain the energy and time allotment needed to cook and prepare everything from scratch and having to get creative with substitutions and alternative ingredients requires more patience, hours in the day and assitance than I have. It isn't as though I'm taking shortcuts, our food is still prepared at home, from scratch more often than not. The ordeal is just less overwhelming when there aren't so many variables to consider.
For over a decade, I have been reading labels, asking what is in a dish, informing waitstaff of my onion allergy, and more recently avoiding gluten. As tough as it has been, I realize there are others who have far more restrictions and the demands of providing sustenance to themselves and their families are constant. I admire and at the same time feel for these people. When your whole enjoyment of life, health and well-being hinges on the food you consume, it is impossible not to obsess over everything you and your loved ones eat. Life shouldn't revolve around the fear that the wrong foods might accidentally be ingested, but sadly in a GMO world, allergies (and serious ones) continue to rise. It's become a more common place thing to understand and be aware of cross-contamination and that, people with restrictive diets aren't just being picky eaters, and as great as that is, the fact that it's necessary is just downright sad. When it comes down to thriving and minimizing physical pain and adverse reactions, I suppose the morality of eating meat is something many of us can't afford to consider.
My Internal Clock Resents This Time of Year
Waking up is less easy when sunrise happens after 6 a.m. At least for me, it's difficult to rouse myself when it is still so dark out. What is odd to me, is that I get up at essentially the same time every day, the fact that there is now a lack of light welcoming the day doesn't seem like it should make that much of a difference. It's the only factor in my sleep-to-awake routine that has been altered, so clearly it is the likely culprit in the slow start my days have been experiencing the past couple of weeks.
Once I'm up, it's business as usual, but setting both feet on the floor and hoisting myself out of a warm, comfortable bed is now a full-on process. This is one of the many reasons I resent the colder months. I enjoy daylight immensely, it is something of an energy reserve for me. I typically don't need a clock when the mornings greet me bright and sunny.
I don't feel as though I require more sleep these days, but despite getting the typical 6-7 hours, I could sneak in another 1-2 without trying. This might not be an issue were it not for me trying to get my workout in before I taxi the teen to school. Coming back home to get ready for work and then being able to dive in makes for a far smoother day. If I don't workout early, it is hard to fit it in during the day. Despite working from home, my schedule isn't as flexible for that kind of thing as you might think.
As we get farther into the fall season, my hope is that mornings will resume the ease I have grown used to. I will embrace sweaters, socks, and shoes again, though the cooler temperatures won't likely be appreciated no matter how long I'm allotted to adjust. Adapting to change, no matter how subtle, sometimes takes more concerted effort — even then, there are times when the challenge just becomes part of the routine.
Once I'm up, it's business as usual, but setting both feet on the floor and hoisting myself out of a warm, comfortable bed is now a full-on process. This is one of the many reasons I resent the colder months. I enjoy daylight immensely, it is something of an energy reserve for me. I typically don't need a clock when the mornings greet me bright and sunny.
I don't feel as though I require more sleep these days, but despite getting the typical 6-7 hours, I could sneak in another 1-2 without trying. This might not be an issue were it not for me trying to get my workout in before I taxi the teen to school. Coming back home to get ready for work and then being able to dive in makes for a far smoother day. If I don't workout early, it is hard to fit it in during the day. Despite working from home, my schedule isn't as flexible for that kind of thing as you might think.
As we get farther into the fall season, my hope is that mornings will resume the ease I have grown used to. I will embrace sweaters, socks, and shoes again, though the cooler temperatures won't likely be appreciated no matter how long I'm allotted to adjust. Adapting to change, no matter how subtle, sometimes takes more concerted effort — even then, there are times when the challenge just becomes part of the routine.
Sunday, September 18, 2016
I'm Considering Quarantine Status Here
Listening to my child cough this morning, I feel like a terrible mother. Playing the shoulda, coulda, woulda game over not having called the doctor Friday afternoon. He's miserable and I can't help. Sure I made him soup yesterday, but I think he's beyond soup's ability to be effective.
The worst thing as a parent, at least that I've experienced is not being able to do anything about when my child is under the weather. Of course, the incessant "I'm dying" and "I'm so bored" tend to make you forget how badly you feel about not being able to instantly make them feel better. Ah, but then he quiets down and I look at his adorable face and I feel bad he's sick all over again. It's a vicious cycle, I know.
When the boys were little, I'd gladly risk contracting what they had to cuddle if it made them feel better in the end. These days I lovingly ask them to keep their germs to themselves. They want no part of cuddling — thankfully, all they want is my undying sympathy and undivided attention as they moan and groan about how awful they feel. That and to allow them to go spread their sickness to others by hanging out with friends because they are going stir crazy staying home. I love how they are actively 'dying' at one moment and then begging me to go over to a friend's house the next.
I wouldn't trade a minute of being a mother — even these deathly, sick moments. :)
The worst thing as a parent, at least that I've experienced is not being able to do anything about when my child is under the weather. Of course, the incessant "I'm dying" and "I'm so bored" tend to make you forget how badly you feel about not being able to instantly make them feel better. Ah, but then he quiets down and I look at his adorable face and I feel bad he's sick all over again. It's a vicious cycle, I know.
When the boys were little, I'd gladly risk contracting what they had to cuddle if it made them feel better in the end. These days I lovingly ask them to keep their germs to themselves. They want no part of cuddling — thankfully, all they want is my undying sympathy and undivided attention as they moan and groan about how awful they feel. That and to allow them to go spread their sickness to others by hanging out with friends because they are going stir crazy staying home. I love how they are actively 'dying' at one moment and then begging me to go over to a friend's house the next.
I wouldn't trade a minute of being a mother — even these deathly, sick moments. :)
Saturday, September 17, 2016
Off Track But Not Lost
It is supremely difficult trying to catch up and stay caught up here. What with work frying my eyes from staring at a screen all day, playing taxi to the teen, and spending time with my Mister, writing time has been sacrificed. Yes, these are excuses — pardon me while I go into the other room to berate myself.
Without a doubt, there is a lot happening at the moment. There are stressors that cannot be put aside and that certainly affects my ability to sit and focus on whatever topic I choose to write about. I suppose I should be somewhat grateful I've managed to snag a few minutes each morning to write because at least I'm not falling further behind. Still holding at four. I'm challenging myself to get caught up by next weekend. This should be fun.
I've noticed that I've allowed myself to slip back into a cycle of making excuses. Not necessarily to those around me, but to myself. This has led to slacking off in areas I've always been dedicated to; writing being one of them. Part of living a more positive life is that there is a higher productivity to my days. When I allow things to slip by, undone, even though it may not seem like I'm being negative, the effects are definitely evidence of negative behavior.
It's important to do regular self-checks (no, not breast or testicle exams, though those are essential) on where you are mindset-wise. When I fail to do this, I end up in situations like I'm in right now. Thankfully, I've become rather good at identifying when I've fallen short of where I want to be, which makes it a whole lot easier to adjust and move forward. So, pushing myself to do an extra post a day this next week should get me back into that productive flow. At least that's the goal.
Falling back into old habits isn't all bad. I find when I do this, I catch myself sooner each time, and manage to right myself more quickly. I also appreciate embracing a positive life far more. When you can step back and see how much better things are when you choose to live the best possible life, it's easy to find the dedication needed to resume that lifestyle. Knowing what it takes is helpful, but recognizing the benefits of the work involved is priceless. Whatever it takes to maintain that level of awesome, I'm ready to do it.
Without a doubt, there is a lot happening at the moment. There are stressors that cannot be put aside and that certainly affects my ability to sit and focus on whatever topic I choose to write about. I suppose I should be somewhat grateful I've managed to snag a few minutes each morning to write because at least I'm not falling further behind. Still holding at four. I'm challenging myself to get caught up by next weekend. This should be fun.
I've noticed that I've allowed myself to slip back into a cycle of making excuses. Not necessarily to those around me, but to myself. This has led to slacking off in areas I've always been dedicated to; writing being one of them. Part of living a more positive life is that there is a higher productivity to my days. When I allow things to slip by, undone, even though it may not seem like I'm being negative, the effects are definitely evidence of negative behavior.
It's important to do regular self-checks (no, not breast or testicle exams, though those are essential) on where you are mindset-wise. When I fail to do this, I end up in situations like I'm in right now. Thankfully, I've become rather good at identifying when I've fallen short of where I want to be, which makes it a whole lot easier to adjust and move forward. So, pushing myself to do an extra post a day this next week should get me back into that productive flow. At least that's the goal.
Falling back into old habits isn't all bad. I find when I do this, I catch myself sooner each time, and manage to right myself more quickly. I also appreciate embracing a positive life far more. When you can step back and see how much better things are when you choose to live the best possible life, it's easy to find the dedication needed to resume that lifestyle. Knowing what it takes is helpful, but recognizing the benefits of the work involved is priceless. Whatever it takes to maintain that level of awesome, I'm ready to do it.
Friday, September 16, 2016
Reliving Parts of Life Through Music
This week I've been posting some of my favorite songs from the 80s thanks to a friend challenging me. I don't always participate in social media challenges, but music? Hell yeah! It's been fun, though entirely difficult to choose just seven songs. Particularly because there are so many to choose from.
I have a relatively wide range of musical tastes, from Peter Gabriel to Slayer, Tool to Ed Sheeran, and Stevie Ray Vaughan to Lily Allen. The thing about music is no matter what mood I am in, there's a song for it. Listening to so many songs from years gone by has reminded me of things I'd forgotten. I may not have a specific memory tied to a tune, but the emotions the song evokes are undeniable and unforgettable. More often than not, it's a good thing to revive those emotions.
Last night, my Mister and I scrolled through YouTube and Spotify listening to 80s music. We got to see a glimpse of one another that we hadn't yet encountered. Thankfully, we are paired well when it comes to music. Our choices aren't identical, but alike enough to know we will be able to listen to nearly anything the other chooses to play. This is important to me as I find mutual enjoyment of music adds to the overall comfort of time spent together.
If given the choice of only one genre of music to listen to for the rest of my life, I would pick the blues. Hands down it is my favorite style of music and there are so many artists it would take a long time to get old. My love of Stevie Ray Vaughan scored serious points with the Mister, too. Not that I needed any what with my sci-fi and football obsessions. It doesn't hurt to stack the odds of compatibility high, however, and we just keep managing to find more and more similar interests, so hell yeah, I'll take it!
Back to 80s music. I imagine a few of my friends may wonder (having known me in the 80s) why I have not chosen songs from Bon Jovi or Def Leppard. Well, surprisingly, when I look back on that decade, despite gravitating toward those bands more often than not, there were far more fitting choices to make. Of course, I still know nearly every word to every song of these two bands from that time period (I demonstrated this to the Mister, complete with white chick dance moves and all), but I don't know that I could pick a favorite from the bunch. So, I set them aside in my considerations because this task has been tough enough without throwing the impossible into the mix. Only two days left...what on earth am I going to choose next?
I have a relatively wide range of musical tastes, from Peter Gabriel to Slayer, Tool to Ed Sheeran, and Stevie Ray Vaughan to Lily Allen. The thing about music is no matter what mood I am in, there's a song for it. Listening to so many songs from years gone by has reminded me of things I'd forgotten. I may not have a specific memory tied to a tune, but the emotions the song evokes are undeniable and unforgettable. More often than not, it's a good thing to revive those emotions.
Last night, my Mister and I scrolled through YouTube and Spotify listening to 80s music. We got to see a glimpse of one another that we hadn't yet encountered. Thankfully, we are paired well when it comes to music. Our choices aren't identical, but alike enough to know we will be able to listen to nearly anything the other chooses to play. This is important to me as I find mutual enjoyment of music adds to the overall comfort of time spent together.
If given the choice of only one genre of music to listen to for the rest of my life, I would pick the blues. Hands down it is my favorite style of music and there are so many artists it would take a long time to get old. My love of Stevie Ray Vaughan scored serious points with the Mister, too. Not that I needed any what with my sci-fi and football obsessions. It doesn't hurt to stack the odds of compatibility high, however, and we just keep managing to find more and more similar interests, so hell yeah, I'll take it!
Back to 80s music. I imagine a few of my friends may wonder (having known me in the 80s) why I have not chosen songs from Bon Jovi or Def Leppard. Well, surprisingly, when I look back on that decade, despite gravitating toward those bands more often than not, there were far more fitting choices to make. Of course, I still know nearly every word to every song of these two bands from that time period (I demonstrated this to the Mister, complete with white chick dance moves and all), but I don't know that I could pick a favorite from the bunch. So, I set them aside in my considerations because this task has been tough enough without throwing the impossible into the mix. Only two days left...what on earth am I going to choose next?
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Sometime I Annoy Myself
I must have had four or five ideas for blog posts hit me right as I laid down to go to sleep. As tired as I was, I resisted the urge to grab my phone and jot them down in a note. I am kicking myself this morning. Particularly because I'm still three posts behind, and because frankly, they were great topics.
I know better than to dismiss the leads my mind provides, yet still, I allow these gems to disappear from my consciousness, likely to never be thought of again. To say that I regret allowing this to happen is an understatement. Lost ideas are missed opportunities. Creatively speaking, that's something I never want to happen. So why do I allow it to?
Every so often, the gist of a lost idea will surface and I can use it. It isn't likely it ever turns out the way it may have if I'd only just sat down to write it in the first place, but then I could write on the very same topic days apart and it would be totally different as well. Thoughts are always evolving since we are faced with different stimuli each and every day. What we think right now could like become more fine tuned or completely opposite in the near future. It's all dependent on what our lives encounter between now and tomorrow.
I've managed to recover the bulk of one topic from last night. I will likely turn it around for a day or two before I put words to it, but I've jotted it down and won't forget it again. I'll also need to find time to want to actually sit in front of my laptop screen in order to make anything of it. At the very least, I will not be letting ideas disappear into the air for awhile, as it vexed me greatly to think I could have wasted perfectly good ideas just to catch a few Zzz.
I know better than to dismiss the leads my mind provides, yet still, I allow these gems to disappear from my consciousness, likely to never be thought of again. To say that I regret allowing this to happen is an understatement. Lost ideas are missed opportunities. Creatively speaking, that's something I never want to happen. So why do I allow it to?
Every so often, the gist of a lost idea will surface and I can use it. It isn't likely it ever turns out the way it may have if I'd only just sat down to write it in the first place, but then I could write on the very same topic days apart and it would be totally different as well. Thoughts are always evolving since we are faced with different stimuli each and every day. What we think right now could like become more fine tuned or completely opposite in the near future. It's all dependent on what our lives encounter between now and tomorrow.
I've managed to recover the bulk of one topic from last night. I will likely turn it around for a day or two before I put words to it, but I've jotted it down and won't forget it again. I'll also need to find time to want to actually sit in front of my laptop screen in order to make anything of it. At the very least, I will not be letting ideas disappear into the air for awhile, as it vexed me greatly to think I could have wasted perfectly good ideas just to catch a few Zzz.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Love It When A Plan Comes Together
First impressions. It's always best to make good ones. I have no doubts that I've failed to rise to that level of interaction on occasion, but most of the time I achieve decent results. I am who I am, though I've found it beneficial to tone down certain aspects of my typical personality (aka foul-mouthed sailor) the first few times I'm around someone new.
I'm happy to say that I believe I made a good first impression this weekend meeting my Mister's children. They didn't appear overwhelmed, despite their somewhat shy demeanors, and for those that know me that is a feat! Just as I expected, I had the distinct feeling that I will grow to adore them. I couldn't have asked for a better introduction than this, as their father and I decided to meet up at a local bowling alley. The idea was neutral ground, not to mention enough activity to avoid awkward moments over just sitting and pushing conversation on them. My youngest son joined as well — he jokingly says I used him as a buffer. While it may seem as though that was they case, I felt it was important for Mister's sons to see me as a mother to my own children, rather than someone who is going to be infringing on their time with dad.
Both Mister and I have dated people who did not have children, and sometimes there is a big disconnect in how these people interact with our offspring. Kids are fairly observant and, while they might not be able to express it, they are affected by the lack of understanding and impatience. Buffer or not, allowing his sons to first see me as someone who is like their father and understands what it is to have children seemed like the best way to go. It might not work for everyone, but taking the stress out of the first meeting eased us all into more organic conversations than sitting across the table during lunch would have.
I like that there was no caution from Mister toward being affectionate in front of his sons. His willingness to allow his children to see him interact with someone this way provided me the kind of comfort I needed to relax and not overthink things. It also confirmed what I suspected from the months of conversations we've had about our sons, parenting and life — he's as open and real with his sons as I am my own. If there is one thing I know, it is that conflicting approaches to parenting can wreak havoc on a relationship. There is immense relief in knowing there will be support and encouragement between us when it comes to the other's kids, rather than disagreement and adversity.
Establishing a relationship that fosters continued growth is tough enough, particularly after divorce and becoming settled in your own ways. Adding children to that can be difficult and present serious hurdles. While I am under no illusions that a great first meeting means there won't be challenges ahead, at least I know that parenting styles and choices won't be one of them. That in itself is huge.
Looking forward to getting to know these two boys and appreciating that there aren't any unnecessary hangup minefields to navigate.
I'm happy to say that I believe I made a good first impression this weekend meeting my Mister's children. They didn't appear overwhelmed, despite their somewhat shy demeanors, and for those that know me that is a feat! Just as I expected, I had the distinct feeling that I will grow to adore them. I couldn't have asked for a better introduction than this, as their father and I decided to meet up at a local bowling alley. The idea was neutral ground, not to mention enough activity to avoid awkward moments over just sitting and pushing conversation on them. My youngest son joined as well — he jokingly says I used him as a buffer. While it may seem as though that was they case, I felt it was important for Mister's sons to see me as a mother to my own children, rather than someone who is going to be infringing on their time with dad.
Both Mister and I have dated people who did not have children, and sometimes there is a big disconnect in how these people interact with our offspring. Kids are fairly observant and, while they might not be able to express it, they are affected by the lack of understanding and impatience. Buffer or not, allowing his sons to first see me as someone who is like their father and understands what it is to have children seemed like the best way to go. It might not work for everyone, but taking the stress out of the first meeting eased us all into more organic conversations than sitting across the table during lunch would have.
I like that there was no caution from Mister toward being affectionate in front of his sons. His willingness to allow his children to see him interact with someone this way provided me the kind of comfort I needed to relax and not overthink things. It also confirmed what I suspected from the months of conversations we've had about our sons, parenting and life — he's as open and real with his sons as I am my own. If there is one thing I know, it is that conflicting approaches to parenting can wreak havoc on a relationship. There is immense relief in knowing there will be support and encouragement between us when it comes to the other's kids, rather than disagreement and adversity.
Establishing a relationship that fosters continued growth is tough enough, particularly after divorce and becoming settled in your own ways. Adding children to that can be difficult and present serious hurdles. While I am under no illusions that a great first meeting means there won't be challenges ahead, at least I know that parenting styles and choices won't be one of them. That in itself is huge.
Looking forward to getting to know these two boys and appreciating that there aren't any unnecessary hangup minefields to navigate.
Sunday, September 11, 2016
That First Game of the Season Post Craze
I freely admit that during football season I am a foul-mouthed, post-frenzy Patriots' fan. Anyone who follows me on social media has come to expect that once a week (except on BYEs) there will be a barrage of colorful, game-related status updates blowing up their Facebook notifications and filling their newsfeeds. Hey, one or two of my friends have just learned to unfollow me from September until February. The rest...well, the appear to like it.
My sons loathe me screaming at the television during games. I've come to some kind of middle ground being able to vent online, bringing the factor of yell down quite a few notches. I do what I can ;)
The only thing that I hate worse than seeing my team lose, is late game nights. Knowing the next day is going to require far more caffeine than usual just compounds the stress of a close scoring game. And a close scoring game means I will be staying up to watch the last play. DVRing it just isn't the same. Tonight's season opener is a late game and far too close in points for me to confidently call it a night.
As a Patriots' fan, I have been spoiled the past few years. We have a solid team and despite hiccups in the line-up due to injuries and bullshit suspensions, I've come to expect that my desired outcome is a given. Just one of the reasons all non-New England fans love seeing my team lose.
Being a Pats' fan means being the recipient of all sorts of hater-style comments. That shit just deepens my resolve to cheer my boys on week after week. Bring your worst, New England fans can't be swayed. Oh, and if you're my friend on Facebook and you aren't a Pats' fan, it's going to be a long five months.
My sons loathe me screaming at the television during games. I've come to some kind of middle ground being able to vent online, bringing the factor of yell down quite a few notches. I do what I can ;)
The only thing that I hate worse than seeing my team lose, is late game nights. Knowing the next day is going to require far more caffeine than usual just compounds the stress of a close scoring game. And a close scoring game means I will be staying up to watch the last play. DVRing it just isn't the same. Tonight's season opener is a late game and far too close in points for me to confidently call it a night.
As a Patriots' fan, I have been spoiled the past few years. We have a solid team and despite hiccups in the line-up due to injuries and bullshit suspensions, I've come to expect that my desired outcome is a given. Just one of the reasons all non-New England fans love seeing my team lose.
Being a Pats' fan means being the recipient of all sorts of hater-style comments. That shit just deepens my resolve to cheer my boys on week after week. Bring your worst, New England fans can't be swayed. Oh, and if you're my friend on Facebook and you aren't a Pats' fan, it's going to be a long five months.
Big Steps Toward A Bigger Future
There are things as a parent that carry a different weight than they do as a non-parent. The importance of any decision that affects your children becomes greater because the outcome affects more than just yourself. As a result, the meaning we attribute to such decisions and choices is typically far different than it would be otherwise.
Nearly every decision I have made over the past 20+ years has ben with my sons in mind. This is particularly true when it comes to relationships. Introducing my sons to someone wasn't anything I did lightly. For me, at least when the boys were younger, I was protective of who they came into contact with. Making the choice to introduce them to someone I was dating had to mean the relationship had lasting potential.
I've always taken that part of my parenting duties seriously. My marriage was my sons' first exposure to relationships and sadly, it was not the best example. They were exposed to an equally awful example with the first guy I dated. After that experience, I raised a wall that would need to be scaled between my dating life and my parenting life. Eventually, I thought I had met someone I could spend my life with and slowly included my sons. Another tumultuous end that I subjected them to had reaffirmed the wisdom of keeping my relationships separate from the rest of my life.
Since that last big breakup, my sons have only briefly met men I've dated. They are grown now and I've scaled back that wall quite a bit. I've also come to realize that while my own sons are old enough to process and handle my current romantic relationship, this protective wall is still beneficial. My children are not the only children that are affected by this relationship. I was happy and relieved when my Mister and I discussed our views on when to introduce the other to their kids. We share that protective instinct, which also means we that introduction as a serious next step in the relationship.
From the beginning, I was honest about wanting to wait to meet his sons. While I'd introduced him to mine early on, he has only just started spending more time with them. The decision to include me in his time with his sons had to be his. It's been nearly six months since we started dating and today I meet the boys I have heard so many stories about. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. This is a big deal in the world of single parent dating — at least the kind that I've chosen to participate in. I'm not worried about how they will perceive me; I think we have laid a strong foundation these past few months, spending time really getting to know one another and assessing the longevity factor. The nervousness comes from the changes that will happen following today. Moving forward and leaving the comfort of where we are in this relationship for something that includes and affects our children — when we've both botched it up a time or two before — well, that's something to be a little nervous about.
Beyond the initial scariness of what it means, I'm looking forward to getting to know these two boys beyond the tales their father proudly tells. T-minus one hour...here goes nothing!
Nearly every decision I have made over the past 20+ years has ben with my sons in mind. This is particularly true when it comes to relationships. Introducing my sons to someone wasn't anything I did lightly. For me, at least when the boys were younger, I was protective of who they came into contact with. Making the choice to introduce them to someone I was dating had to mean the relationship had lasting potential.
I've always taken that part of my parenting duties seriously. My marriage was my sons' first exposure to relationships and sadly, it was not the best example. They were exposed to an equally awful example with the first guy I dated. After that experience, I raised a wall that would need to be scaled between my dating life and my parenting life. Eventually, I thought I had met someone I could spend my life with and slowly included my sons. Another tumultuous end that I subjected them to had reaffirmed the wisdom of keeping my relationships separate from the rest of my life.
Since that last big breakup, my sons have only briefly met men I've dated. They are grown now and I've scaled back that wall quite a bit. I've also come to realize that while my own sons are old enough to process and handle my current romantic relationship, this protective wall is still beneficial. My children are not the only children that are affected by this relationship. I was happy and relieved when my Mister and I discussed our views on when to introduce the other to their kids. We share that protective instinct, which also means we that introduction as a serious next step in the relationship.
From the beginning, I was honest about wanting to wait to meet his sons. While I'd introduced him to mine early on, he has only just started spending more time with them. The decision to include me in his time with his sons had to be his. It's been nearly six months since we started dating and today I meet the boys I have heard so many stories about. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. This is a big deal in the world of single parent dating — at least the kind that I've chosen to participate in. I'm not worried about how they will perceive me; I think we have laid a strong foundation these past few months, spending time really getting to know one another and assessing the longevity factor. The nervousness comes from the changes that will happen following today. Moving forward and leaving the comfort of where we are in this relationship for something that includes and affects our children — when we've both botched it up a time or two before — well, that's something to be a little nervous about.
Beyond the initial scariness of what it means, I'm looking forward to getting to know these two boys beyond the tales their father proudly tells. T-minus one hour...here goes nothing!
Peaceful Mornings
There is nothing quite like the quiet of the morning before the kids wake up. Since the day they started sleeping in, I have looked forward to enjoying my coffee and writing most weekend mornings. It's the little things in life that make all the difference.
I love my sons and spending time with them is my favorite thing to do. There is just something about the peace in the house when they are fast asleep. I remember checking in on them before turning in for the night myself when they were little. No matter how old they get, that angelic halo that adorns them in their slumber shines. Seeing them so still, knowing they are resting up for whatever awaits them when they awake, it's impossible to not appreciate the wonder of life.
These grown men were once adorable and cuddly toddlers. They tried my patience and made me want to scream, but the moment I saw their little faces relaxed and sleeping the previous hours of challenging parenting moments were a distant memory. I suppose that knowing they both are tucked away in their beds, comfortable and warm gives me a sense of accomplishment. I've kept them safe, they are healthy and well-fed, and my home is whole.
There will come a time, all too soon, when these solitary mornings are without the reward of groggy expressions accompanied by bedhead trudging out into the living room. I will miss that almost as much as I miss watching them sleep. No matter how old they get, no matter where they are, they will always look like those little boys visiting dreamland when I catch a glimpse of them in their slumber. At least in the eyes of their mother they will be.
I love my sons and spending time with them is my favorite thing to do. There is just something about the peace in the house when they are fast asleep. I remember checking in on them before turning in for the night myself when they were little. No matter how old they get, that angelic halo that adorns them in their slumber shines. Seeing them so still, knowing they are resting up for whatever awaits them when they awake, it's impossible to not appreciate the wonder of life.
These grown men were once adorable and cuddly toddlers. They tried my patience and made me want to scream, but the moment I saw their little faces relaxed and sleeping the previous hours of challenging parenting moments were a distant memory. I suppose that knowing they both are tucked away in their beds, comfortable and warm gives me a sense of accomplishment. I've kept them safe, they are healthy and well-fed, and my home is whole.
There will come a time, all too soon, when these solitary mornings are without the reward of groggy expressions accompanied by bedhead trudging out into the living room. I will miss that almost as much as I miss watching them sleep. No matter how old they get, no matter where they are, they will always look like those little boys visiting dreamland when I catch a glimpse of them in their slumber. At least in the eyes of their mother they will be.
It's Been A Little Crazy Up In Here
For the past few weeks, I've been experiencing a flux. I'd like to say that this is just with writing, but it's essentially affecting my entire life. It isn't a bad thing, though I've found it difficult to stay on top of daily posts. Change can be subtle and smooth, and it can also churn things up like a hurricane over water. I wouldn't say I've reached hurricane status, but I'm definitely in the middle somewhere.
I enjoy balance when it is present, the rest of the time I am working to restore it. There was a time when I hated this yo-yo-ing between easygoing and challenging. I felt as though I had spread myself too thin and I was being pulled in too many directions. Now I know that is just life for a single, working mother who is choosing to enjoy life amidst the responsibilities.
Looking at all that is happening, or all that is currently uncertain, none of it is negative. Stress is certainly associated but no longer the prominent focus it once was. Without a doubt, a life that is as busy as mine currently is can present some serious navigational hurdles, so avoiding stressful moments is unlikely. It is far easier to work through difficult situations when you accept that you will be challenged. Adversity can crush you or it can make you stronger. It's all in how we choose to face it.
When I consider the past two months, I laugh at how I could be surprised — even for a moment, that I'm having a tough time keeping everything straight. We moved into a new home just a month and a half ago, then a week and a half later I had ass surgery (this is far more fun to say than hemorrhoidectomy and honestly, easier to type), and I've been doing the whole job search thing in preparation for the end of my current job's contract in October. Mixed in with those things, Riley started his senior year in high school, the boys' grandfather has had a health scare, I have far more writing ideas than I can process, and my relationship with my Mister is about to take a big step forward. All of that and summer is ending without any thorough enjoyment of it on my part. It really is no wonder I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed at times.
No matter how crazy things may get or whatever life has in store, I refuse to throw my hands up in defeat. Every day is a gift and wasting it on things like stress and despair is unthinkable. The best way to enjoy life is to welcome all of it, and that is exactly what I will continue to do.
I enjoy balance when it is present, the rest of the time I am working to restore it. There was a time when I hated this yo-yo-ing between easygoing and challenging. I felt as though I had spread myself too thin and I was being pulled in too many directions. Now I know that is just life for a single, working mother who is choosing to enjoy life amidst the responsibilities.
Looking at all that is happening, or all that is currently uncertain, none of it is negative. Stress is certainly associated but no longer the prominent focus it once was. Without a doubt, a life that is as busy as mine currently is can present some serious navigational hurdles, so avoiding stressful moments is unlikely. It is far easier to work through difficult situations when you accept that you will be challenged. Adversity can crush you or it can make you stronger. It's all in how we choose to face it.
When I consider the past two months, I laugh at how I could be surprised — even for a moment, that I'm having a tough time keeping everything straight. We moved into a new home just a month and a half ago, then a week and a half later I had ass surgery (this is far more fun to say than hemorrhoidectomy and honestly, easier to type), and I've been doing the whole job search thing in preparation for the end of my current job's contract in October. Mixed in with those things, Riley started his senior year in high school, the boys' grandfather has had a health scare, I have far more writing ideas than I can process, and my relationship with my Mister is about to take a big step forward. All of that and summer is ending without any thorough enjoyment of it on my part. It really is no wonder I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed at times.
No matter how crazy things may get or whatever life has in store, I refuse to throw my hands up in defeat. Every day is a gift and wasting it on things like stress and despair is unthinkable. The best way to enjoy life is to welcome all of it, and that is exactly what I will continue to do.
Friday, September 9, 2016
It's Not That The Suck Doesn't Suck, It's That I Won't Let It Win
When you've spent the better part of your 44 years on this earth being a reactionary individual, it isn't exactly easy reigning that sort of behavior in. What with all manner of emotion and the double standard applied to gender, as well as the type of emotion causing the reactionary moment, it's not hard to understand why this feat is so challenging. Most days I meet the challenge head-on and push back against old habits, succeeding in changing my outlook — if only just slightly.
Things rarely work out the way we envision, yet even knowing this we still allow the shock, anger, and disappointment of it all wash over us like a second skin. What gives? How is it that I can rationalize other people's behaviors but I can't keep from being overwhelmed — even for a moment by the crap that comes with undesirable outcomes? I suppose that the reaction comes more from the loss of what was hoped for than the actual disappointment itself. Still...it is hard not to question what my own role in the less than thrilling result may have been.
Of course, that just leads further into that room of negativity that I actively avoid at all costs. There is a fine line between acknowledging emotions like sadness or disappointment, and letting them take up residence in your head. I'm not trying to land my ass back in the mire of constant strife. Looking beyond those less than optimal outcomes is the only way to go. In order to make progress toward that end, however, you have to leave the bitterness, resentment, and self-pity behind.
Call it a setback, a dead end, a wrongdoing, in the end, the only thing that will make a difference is how dedicated you are to moving forward. That dedication only gets further from your reach the more you fixate on the negative yuck of the situation. If it takes 100 times to refocus your thoughts and energies to take that step in the right direction after getting tripped up, that's 100 moments you chose to be positive. Don't let the ugliness of wallowing rob you of your momentum and vibrant energy. Failure is all about learning, recommitting, and gaining new appreciation for all you have been blessed with. Embrace it and reap the benefits.
Things rarely work out the way we envision, yet even knowing this we still allow the shock, anger, and disappointment of it all wash over us like a second skin. What gives? How is it that I can rationalize other people's behaviors but I can't keep from being overwhelmed — even for a moment by the crap that comes with undesirable outcomes? I suppose that the reaction comes more from the loss of what was hoped for than the actual disappointment itself. Still...it is hard not to question what my own role in the less than thrilling result may have been.
Of course, that just leads further into that room of negativity that I actively avoid at all costs. There is a fine line between acknowledging emotions like sadness or disappointment, and letting them take up residence in your head. I'm not trying to land my ass back in the mire of constant strife. Looking beyond those less than optimal outcomes is the only way to go. In order to make progress toward that end, however, you have to leave the bitterness, resentment, and self-pity behind.
Call it a setback, a dead end, a wrongdoing, in the end, the only thing that will make a difference is how dedicated you are to moving forward. That dedication only gets further from your reach the more you fixate on the negative yuck of the situation. If it takes 100 times to refocus your thoughts and energies to take that step in the right direction after getting tripped up, that's 100 moments you chose to be positive. Don't let the ugliness of wallowing rob you of your momentum and vibrant energy. Failure is all about learning, recommitting, and gaining new appreciation for all you have been blessed with. Embrace it and reap the benefits.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Finding The Time
Sometimes I wonder if being mentally exhausted is worse than physically spent. It's a completely different kind of tired, so I suppose it's relative to how you're feeling one day from the next. On days where I don't move much because I'm stuck at my laptop working, the taxing of mental exertion can be worse than if I'd pushed myself to my body's limits with movement.
I'd likely still manage to muster something somewhat interesting to write about despite physical fatigue. Doing so when my brain has reached the point of being fried, however, it is beyond difficult. I both love and loathe my current occupation. It affords me the kind of flexibility and freedom that is generally worth the stress. Of course, at the end of the day, my capacity for writing anything of substance diminishes, greatly.
That said, I've had a bit more success writing first thing in the morning. The house isn't as quiet as it was just a couple of weeks ago, now that both boys are up and getting ready for school. So even the mornings are a challenge. There is rarely an optimal time to sit and write. This is something that I either need to change or something I need to adjust my focus and acceptance of. My guess is the latter will be the easiest approach.
Getting comfortable enough in less than desirable conditions to write anything of quality is certainly going to require time. We don't adapt to most things overnight. I've made countless adjustments in my life that called for patience and resolve, so this isn't all that different. At least that's what I'm telling myself. Let the adjustment period begin.
I'd likely still manage to muster something somewhat interesting to write about despite physical fatigue. Doing so when my brain has reached the point of being fried, however, it is beyond difficult. I both love and loathe my current occupation. It affords me the kind of flexibility and freedom that is generally worth the stress. Of course, at the end of the day, my capacity for writing anything of substance diminishes, greatly.
That said, I've had a bit more success writing first thing in the morning. The house isn't as quiet as it was just a couple of weeks ago, now that both boys are up and getting ready for school. So even the mornings are a challenge. There is rarely an optimal time to sit and write. This is something that I either need to change or something I need to adjust my focus and acceptance of. My guess is the latter will be the easiest approach.
Getting comfortable enough in less than desirable conditions to write anything of quality is certainly going to require time. We don't adapt to most things overnight. I've made countless adjustments in my life that called for patience and resolve, so this isn't all that different. At least that's what I'm telling myself. Let the adjustment period begin.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Happy Place
I might have been a bit overzealous on Instagram earlier today. It's just so hard to resist taking photos of my sons and of the oceanside. The absolute beauty of water, the islands, the boats...next to being able to see it, hearing it is the best. It's really a close call between the two, as both seeing the ocean and hearing it relaxes me and brings joy to my life.
Despite my loathing of the weather yet to come, I couldn't move away full-time. There is something about the Maine coast that I'd likely go through withdrawals without for too long. When the time presents itself, I'll have no issues being a snowbird. Until then, I'll take in whatever warm days and ocean air I can, hoping to sustain my overall mood through winter.
Having both my sons with me boosts the effects coastal visits have on me. The older they get, I consider myself fortunate to have as many experiences with them as I do, because they could insist on doing their own thing. There is far less griping than there once was about spending a few hours by the ocean. When they were younger they would complain the whole way there, but soon forget how much they didn't want to go once the sea breeze hit them. Clearly, these two are just as affected by the coastline as their mother. There's just something about the ocean.
I rarely do more than walk my feet in, and lucky for me that's all the physical contact I need. Temperatures rarely rise above the mid-60s in this part of the Atlantic, so it has to be unbearable hot to brave full body submersion. It's good to know I'll instantly be cooled off should I need it, but it's hardly ever necessary. Next to being on a beach, being on a boat is the next best way to get my ocean fix in. I don't utilize the island ferries nearly enough and I plan to change that next summer.
Until then, I expect to spend as much time between now and winter by the ocean. It helps that I'm just minutes away from countless access points. There are no regrets moving here. None whatsoever.
Despite my loathing of the weather yet to come, I couldn't move away full-time. There is something about the Maine coast that I'd likely go through withdrawals without for too long. When the time presents itself, I'll have no issues being a snowbird. Until then, I'll take in whatever warm days and ocean air I can, hoping to sustain my overall mood through winter.
Having both my sons with me boosts the effects coastal visits have on me. The older they get, I consider myself fortunate to have as many experiences with them as I do, because they could insist on doing their own thing. There is far less griping than there once was about spending a few hours by the ocean. When they were younger they would complain the whole way there, but soon forget how much they didn't want to go once the sea breeze hit them. Clearly, these two are just as affected by the coastline as their mother. There's just something about the ocean.
I rarely do more than walk my feet in, and lucky for me that's all the physical contact I need. Temperatures rarely rise above the mid-60s in this part of the Atlantic, so it has to be unbearable hot to brave full body submersion. It's good to know I'll instantly be cooled off should I need it, but it's hardly ever necessary. Next to being on a beach, being on a boat is the next best way to get my ocean fix in. I don't utilize the island ferries nearly enough and I plan to change that next summer.
Until then, I expect to spend as much time between now and winter by the ocean. It helps that I'm just minutes away from countless access points. There are no regrets moving here. None whatsoever.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
All The Blessings Of A Good Life
There are no words that can adequately describe how fortunate I feel for having relatives that I treasure. Every Labor Day weekend for the past three decades, I have had the opportunity to spend time with extended family that I would never see otherwise. Life is busy, our family is quite sizeable, and I am forever grateful that my mother, aunts, and uncles joined in this yearly gathering with their cousins and their families.
Slowly but surely over the past couple of years, we have connected through social media. This interaction helps maintain our relationships in the years between that weekend get together. I haven't always been able to attend and sometimes, like this year, it's just for a day, but being able to follow the goings-on even if just through Facebook has made a world of difference in how close I feel to these loved ones. It doesn't matter that the time we spend together is over in the blink of an eye, all that matters is we bond each and every time we see each other.
Some of the most incredible memories for me are listening to the stories of when these cousins were younger. How they spent time together growing up and who had the closer connection to who, not to mention which in the group they now feel a closer kinship with having gotten to know the adult versions of their family. Sometimes forging friendships that hadn't previously been there, my mother, her siblings and their cousins have truly come full circle in life. It is impressive to watch, not to mention amazing to be part of.
Family - pretty much everything to me.
Slowly but surely over the past couple of years, we have connected through social media. This interaction helps maintain our relationships in the years between that weekend get together. I haven't always been able to attend and sometimes, like this year, it's just for a day, but being able to follow the goings-on even if just through Facebook has made a world of difference in how close I feel to these loved ones. It doesn't matter that the time we spend together is over in the blink of an eye, all that matters is we bond each and every time we see each other.
Some of the most incredible memories for me are listening to the stories of when these cousins were younger. How they spent time together growing up and who had the closer connection to who, not to mention which in the group they now feel a closer kinship with having gotten to know the adult versions of their family. Sometimes forging friendships that hadn't previously been there, my mother, her siblings and their cousins have truly come full circle in life. It is impressive to watch, not to mention amazing to be part of.
Family - pretty much everything to me.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Oh The Things I Didn't Know
I remember being told countless times growing up that I would one day know and appreciate what my parents went through raising me.
"One day, you will have children of your own, and you will understand."
That sentence was like an irritating broken record that had absolutely no chance of coming to fruition because I was nothing like my parents. Oh, the painful realization of just how wrong you could be that hits when you become comfortable in parenthood. I eat crow every single time I 'understand'.
Aside from the sobering realization that I am not nearly as different from my mother as I once thought I would be, the appreciation, love, and admiration I have for her has multiplied beyond what I might ever have imagined possible. That 'one day' came and has never left me. I understand implicitly and I am in awe of everything she did (and still does) for my sisters and me.
I no longer doubt the things I hear of what is to come or how I will understand 'when...' because the door to believing her words is permanently open. I can already imagine what it will be to have grandchildren one day, just from watching her with her grandchildren. There is a sense of what my 50s, 60s, and retirement hold, as I've walked alongside her through these things.
My relationship with my mother has benefitted greatly from becoming a parent myself and has better prepared for all that is to come. I'm pretty certain I can handle whatever comes my way. After all, I finally 'understand'.
"One day, you will have children of your own, and you will understand."
That sentence was like an irritating broken record that had absolutely no chance of coming to fruition because I was nothing like my parents. Oh, the painful realization of just how wrong you could be that hits when you become comfortable in parenthood. I eat crow every single time I 'understand'.
Aside from the sobering realization that I am not nearly as different from my mother as I once thought I would be, the appreciation, love, and admiration I have for her has multiplied beyond what I might ever have imagined possible. That 'one day' came and has never left me. I understand implicitly and I am in awe of everything she did (and still does) for my sisters and me.
I no longer doubt the things I hear of what is to come or how I will understand 'when...' because the door to believing her words is permanently open. I can already imagine what it will be to have grandchildren one day, just from watching her with her grandchildren. There is a sense of what my 50s, 60s, and retirement hold, as I've walked alongside her through these things.
My relationship with my mother has benefitted greatly from becoming a parent myself and has better prepared for all that is to come. I'm pretty certain I can handle whatever comes my way. After all, I finally 'understand'.
Home Is Where The People You Love Are
After a month of living here, I've come to love the quiet mornings. It's different here for sure. There's no thick, wooded area to buffer from the surrounding neighbors, but these new neighbors are tucked away in their homes until well after 7. The feeling of being hidden in a little community is gone, though the almost non-existent sound of cars in the distance is similar to being far removed. I do miss the interaction with my neighbors in South Portland, however. That aspect has not yet found an equivalent. There is just no replacing people who are near and dear to your heart.
The overall strange feeling a new place can carry has left and what is left is a feeling of home. Of course, no matter where we go, the boys and I never lose sight of what makes a place home. Had my oldest moved out, I think it may have taken longer for me to feel this way. Without a doubt, just having my two loves with me makes any transition relatively smooth. They are what grounds me, what gives me purpose, and what has always made me whole.
This is a reality that is harboring major life changes and adjustments. The peace and contentedness of having my children with me under the same roof is coming to the end of it's run. All the little irritations of getting under each others' skin, the worry, the frustration and the joy will undergo full metamorphosis when they go out into the world. I know it is inevitable but it doesn't make it any easier to accept.
Each and every day I have with them now has a faint, underlying urgency to it. I barely notice it's there, but I am aware of it nonetheless. The collection of memories is in high gear and my appreciation of the men these boys have become is greater than I could have imagined. As a mother, I may worry about them leaving the nest, but beyond the maternal protectiveness, I know they will find their place in the world. I've just got to find some way of accepting that it will be without much involvement from me. While they may not say it, I know that both of them are thinking these same things, only from their own wide-eyed, inexperienced perspectives.
There is no stopping time, so I'm determined to enjoy what time I have left in my life as it is, and hoping to have the grace to embrace the changes when they come about.
The overall strange feeling a new place can carry has left and what is left is a feeling of home. Of course, no matter where we go, the boys and I never lose sight of what makes a place home. Had my oldest moved out, I think it may have taken longer for me to feel this way. Without a doubt, just having my two loves with me makes any transition relatively smooth. They are what grounds me, what gives me purpose, and what has always made me whole.
This is a reality that is harboring major life changes and adjustments. The peace and contentedness of having my children with me under the same roof is coming to the end of it's run. All the little irritations of getting under each others' skin, the worry, the frustration and the joy will undergo full metamorphosis when they go out into the world. I know it is inevitable but it doesn't make it any easier to accept.
Each and every day I have with them now has a faint, underlying urgency to it. I barely notice it's there, but I am aware of it nonetheless. The collection of memories is in high gear and my appreciation of the men these boys have become is greater than I could have imagined. As a mother, I may worry about them leaving the nest, but beyond the maternal protectiveness, I know they will find their place in the world. I've just got to find some way of accepting that it will be without much involvement from me. While they may not say it, I know that both of them are thinking these same things, only from their own wide-eyed, inexperienced perspectives.
There is no stopping time, so I'm determined to enjoy what time I have left in my life as it is, and hoping to have the grace to embrace the changes when they come about.
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