Splashes & Splurges

kindergarten

2011-08-24T14:54:00.003-04:00

Dear Ava:

I would tell you how much I will miss you when you start Kindergarten on Monday, but I know that will make you sad. So instead, I will just hug you tight and smile at you big and tell you how much you will love Kindergarten and how excited I am that you get to experience it. I will look you in the eye and keep you there until you believe it, too.

You will love it, it is true.

But it is also true that I will miss you in the daytime. I will miss you in the noontime. And I will miss you those moments in between.

As a very young girl, I considered time and its passage something to be mourned. I focused on the "never again will I's" rather than the, "oooh, what's coming next?".

At first, having you in some ways made it worse. But watching you grow and learning from your curiosity and general acceptance of "things" has made it much much better.

I now realize that time and its passage is something to be thankful for.

Thank you God for keeping us healthy and safe that I may be there to watch my daughter say her first word, take her first step, sing her first song, run her first race. Thank you for allowing me to see her first jump from the diving board and watch her fall asleep for her last summer nap.

Thank you God for getting us to her first day of Kindergarten.

(And Ava, I hope you're not too upset that you're new backpack won't be here in time for school. But I have a feeling that using your old, familiar green one will be just fine with you.)

I love you. I can't wait to see what's next.

They's Travels

2011-03-03T15:08:00.001-05:00

Ava (nearly five) and I were reading "Woolly Stops the Train" the other day. This particular book is great for a lot of reasons but it's particularly handy right now because there are simple sentences on top, and more involved sentences on the bottom.

She takes the top and I take the bottom and it doesn't seem like all of the pressure to read is hers. In fact, she usually takes on the encouraging role "Wow, mommy. You have exclamation points in yours! Great job."

Sweet.

Anyway, at one point when we came across the word "they" in the book (and she paused) I cued her with, "This is a word we've seen on earlier pages" and proceeded to show her.

To which she replied, "Wow, 'they' really gets around. Quite an adventurer that word is."

I never thought of it that way, but I like it! Adventures aren't IN the words, they ARE the words!

Making It Her Own

2011-02-04T14:49:00.002-05:00

If you watch American Idol, then you know the judges often tell the contestants to make the songs "their own." Which, I never really understood. Until last night.

Here is my darling Anna making the song Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton totally her own.

Note: She usually sings it all on her own, without us having to prompt a verse...but I think having us do it for this edition was part of her "own-ness".

Credit: Thank you blueberry pancakes for providing hair and makeup

Lyrics (Where Anna Starts):

...that you just don't realize how
much I love you.

We go to a party
And everyone turns to see
This beautiful lady
Who's walkin around with me
And then she asks me
Do you feel alright
And I say, "Yes, I feel wonderful tonight"

Twenty Questions

2011-02-03T13:24:00.001-05:00

I got my haircut last night, which always feels like a fresh start. And while I was waiting for my highlights to set in, I picked up this month's issue of Oprah magazine.

Immediately I was drawn to these two articles, which were eerily timely for me considering my state of mind lately:

The first article listed 20 questions we should ask ourselves everyday. I can see how many of them could begin to help me think differently about my own thought patterns and routine behaviors. I'm going to try and keep them close by, picking one or two to focus on each week.
The second was about unleashing your creativity; how it lurks within all of us, we just have to find it. I can see how the two articles could complement one another well in my circumstance. I need to work on changing some thought patterns AND reinforce it with NEW action to make the changes permanent.

In the meantime, I'm going to weed out some old pillow cases and see what kind of Valentine's Day garland I can make so that hearts abound around here. Wish me luck. I don't cut straight lines and I definitely do not sew.

A Hat, A Neck, A Big Round Belly

2011-01-25T15:58:00.002-05:00

Ah, the number five. You remember learning to write it, don't you? First the hat, then the neck, then a big round belly.

Well, this jolly-old-number has brought nothing but frustration and disappointment to my four-year-old (almost five-year-old) daughter for the past year. It is THE ONE number that she just ~~can't~~ couldn't get right.

Mommy! It doesn't look like a five it looks like a three! Voice quivers in fear.

Mommy! I. can't. do. it! Foot stomps in anger.

Mommy, the belly is going the wrong way! Tears fall in frustration.

Well, it all came to a head last week. I couldn't take it anymore. Ava + I were going to get our lives back. She was going to persevere and OWN that number once and for all.

It was afternoon + little sister Anna was napping. I was straightening up after a morning's work in my office; Ava was beside me pencil + composition notebook full of blank pages in hand. Sun was streaming in bright white streaks through the window. A pretty day but cold. So cold you were okay being inside, appreciating it in warmth.

Ava's afternoon challenge was to practice our phone number. She cheerily announced that she wanted to give it out to all of her classmates so that they would have it, just in case. (I realize this could be very bad for a couple of reasons. But the most immediate being that our phone number has a five in it.)

So she began.

Usually when we get to the foot-stomping-tear-streaming-throat-yelling part of number five writing, I tell her maybe we need to take a break. But today, I decided to try a different approach.

When she was ready to give up, to throw in the towel and pick up a puzzle instead, I stopped her. Told her no, that we were going to write the number five. I told her that today was the day she was going to get it. She protested, confused. This wasn't the way it usually went. Usually, we had a little talk about how everything happens in time, how she will conquer five soon, how she wouldn't someday be seven unable to write five.

It wasn't something I had planned, this perseverance approach. But it suddenly felt like the right thing to do. I sat her down and told her we would write the number five twenty times.

Twenty times! That's too many! I can't do that.

Yes, you can. And, you will. I told her.

She sat at the table and was so flustered she couldn't even grip the pencil correctly. She stood up to leave. I sat her back down. She cried. I told her to get started. Firmly. She got up to leave again. I sat her on my lap and kept her there.

I modeled the number five one time. Had her study it and practice it five times before I turned the page over. A blank page. I told her to write the number five. She cried louder.

A hat, a neck, a big round belly.

She got it fifty-percent right. Not good enough, not for her.

She cried louder and I told her we weren't leaving until she wrote it twenty times.

She composed herself and started again, stopping herself at the big round belly--the part where she usually went the wrong way. She thought about it. She went the right way.

Success.

After her tenth twenty, she cruised to the finish.

Mommy, I'm doing it!

The bright white streaks are no longer streaming through the window now. They are streaming through her. Ava is aglow.

I wish I had captured her face on camera as she inhaled that page full of five's and recognized the writing as her own. It wasn't just a smile, it wasn't just a grin. It was a realization settling deep in her bones. Strengthening her. Framing her.

The truth is, it felt like the right thing at the time, but I wasn't sure it was the right thing. Until that moment. Every time before that, when I allowed her to walk away from the table, I thought I was preserving her confidence.

But here was my realization: Up until that day, I wasn't preserving her confidence. I was artificially preserving her perfection--a practice that I have personally perfected. Can't do it perfectly? Don't do it at all!

When I made her sit at the table and work through discomfort and fear (made her persevere) I was showing her how to abandon the perfect five and accept the five that was perfectly hers. In that moment, over and over and over again.

Because ultimately, I want her to know the value of seeing it through, not just the value of it, want her to be able to apply the empathy that is gained in the struggle, want her to enjoy the satisfaction that rises out of the sacrifice, want her to accept the rewards + recognition that result from the (hard) work.

Of course this strategy cannot be universally applied. I'm not going to trek her to the top of a snowy mountain and force her to ski down it. Nor am I going to hand her the periodic table and make her decode it. I don't want her to persevere in a relationship if it's not good for her. Some things, you have to walk away from.

But not the number five. And not lots of other difficult and uncomfortable experiences that await her. But yes, there are some things she will just have to walk away from. And I pray to God that she has the confidence, the faith, and the experience to do that too.

Perception

2010-10-25T10:58:00.000-04:00

As much as a week before the marathon I wasn't sure I'd be able to run it. I had developed a nagging hip flexor strain that wasn't improving with time or rest or advil or ice. In fact, the discomfort (which had spread to my quad and my knee) got so bad it woke me up out of a sound sleep a week before the race.

I lay in bed and brought myself to tears thinking that all of this training and hard work would be wasted. But what brought on a rush of tears was the possibility that my sweet little girls wouldn't see their mommy cross the finish line. I wanted them to be proud of me, to see what hard work can accomplish. I envisioned my 25th mile, knowing that Ava and Anna in their sweet little voices would be cheering for me. I was crushed to think that wouldn't happen.

I steadied my breathing and as quickly as the tears came on, they stopped. I had a different realization.

Teaching my girls how to handle disappointment was just as valuable a lesson as crossing the finish line of a marathon.

I felt peaceful as I mulled this realization over. I had been perceiving my injury as a personal failure. I had done something wrong, wasn't careful enough, wasn't "strong" enough to just run through it. I messed up.

In my mind, not running=failed.

I worked over the next several days on two things:

1. Receiving treatment on my injury from a sports-related physician.
2. Changing my perception and accepting that not running was not failing.

To help with #2, I asked myself these questions, "How would you want your daughters to feel if this were them? How would you want them to react? What advice would you give them?"

And this is how I answered it:

I would want them to feel peaceful. I would want them to not be discouraged and to not be hard on themselves. I would want them to love themselves and get the care and the rest that they need, trust in God's plan, and surrender the outcome. I would want them to smile big and say to themselves, as they say now when milk spills or the last bite of cake drops on the floor, "well, sometimes that's just the way the cookie crumbles."

We all know how this story ends. I ran the marathon. Fast. I crossed the finish line.

And there, waiting for me at the end were two of the most beautiful and kind and sensitive and sweet little girls I have ever met in my life.

I am quite sure that surrendering the outcome (and having more tape on my body than a piece of Ava's artwork) had something to do with my readiness to run. I am resting the injury now, which isn't an easy thing to do. But I know I will be stronger on the other side of it and I am looking forward to moving my body in different ways while it heals and gaining new perspectives along the way.

Considering the pain and fear and challenges and illnesses that too many people are dealing with today, writing about a hip flexor injury seems rather insensitive. As does the disappointment of my daughters not seeing me cross a finish line. Whoopdeedoo.

But the underlying realizations it prompted in me--acceptance, gratitude, selflessness-- will have much wider and deeper application in my life. I promise you that.

Boston Qualified

2010-10-17T19:58:00.001-04:00

I did it.

I ran my personal best in the Baltimore Marathon yesterday: 3:38:38

My friend Erin and I have been rising at 4:15a most weekdays and every Saturday for the past four months to run in the dark, the heat, the cold, the heat, the wet, the heat--all so that we're back before the kids have been up for too long. We've run hills till our quads screamed and so fast till our lungs ached.

And it was worth every bit of lost sleep, every ounce of ache and pain.

I have much more to say about the race and especially the the last four miles (which really came down to an out-of-body experience.) This wasn't my first marathon, but it was definitely my most...memorable. So I really will get back to write more later this week. And post some pictures too.

But I also want to note that my little brother, who just started running in MAY, ran the marathon too. And I mean ran it. He didn't stop, didn't walk, didn't give up once.

So now I'm going to hobble up from this seat and make my way to the couch. And I'm going to ~~force~~ allow myself to do nothing but sit. For a bit.

Spirit

2010-08-30T18:02:00.001-04:00

It's been a busy summer, but it's been a fun one. In the midst of it all, we moved. I wish I could say that we're settled in.

I mean, we're happy and spread out. Which counts for a lot.

But we're nowhere near unpacked and put away.

The neighborhood is wonderful and the people are great. Everything you hope for in a home for your children. There's one set of neighbors that we haven't met yet. They have a dog and drive a minivan, cut their lawn and go to work. I've exchanged hello's with the woman a few times--usually before sunrise on my return from a sweaty and out-of-breath hard run. But nothing more than that.

Until yesterday.

Anna had woken up early that morning, so we were dressed and fed and on the driveway with sidewalk chalk by 8a.

Anna was puttering around, chalk in one hand, a stick in the other. Talking about bikes and birds and pointing to "peens" (airplanes). It was a beautiful morning. Quiet and bright, but soft-feeling.

Ava was sitting on the pavement, describing the picture she was drawing. This will be hugely relevant in a minute. It was a very intriguing and moving picture, one that you wouldn't expect from a four-year-old. Hearts and flowers and people, sure. But not this.

As Ava and I were talking about her picture, I hadn't noticed that our neighbor (I'll call her Jane) had gotten into her car and began backing out of her driveway.

Ava and I were still discussing her picture when I looked up to wave to Jane, only to see her out of her car now, walking up to our house.

"I'm so sorry I haven't been over to meet you or your girls yet," she began.

I immediately put her at ease, reminding her that we hadn't exactly been over to meet her yet, either.

Then we got to talking about the girls and preschool and our decision to send Ava to our Catholic parish preschool. She said that she and her husband had made the same decision for their children and didn't regret it for a minute.

Then, we started talking more about her kids. I had seen two college-age boys and asked her how the transition from K-8 school to competitive high schools was for them. She answered me and then hesitated for a minute before beginning again.

"But for my daughter...do you know about my daughter?" she asked.

I shook my head sensing there was pain there.

This is when she started to tear up, telling me the story that would break my heart right there on that perfect early summer morning: her 14 year old daughter had died from a brain tumor less than two years ago. She attended high school for two weeks before falling too sick to continue. She passed away two months later.

She admitted that the loss was a big reason why she had not been over to see us yet, "one of the first questions that people usually ask is how many children we have. I dread having to answer that."

I touched her arm, "Faith must be a very important part of your life now."

"It is," she said. "Every week Father Donald tells me something that I need to hear. Like last week, he told us all that we are reunited with our loved ones in heaven. I've heard it over and over and I can't hear it enough. I've been holding onto that all week. I have to."

Then I began to tell her about the picture that Ava had just drawn, was in the midst of drawing.

"Jane" I started, "do you know what Ava started drawing while you were walking to your car this morning and then was finishing as you were walking up our driveway?"

She looked at me, intrigued.

"She was drawing Jesus on the Cross. When I asked her why she was drawing Jesus, she told me because she 'thinks about him a lot'...about how he died and then came back to us. As you were parking your car in front of her house, we were talking about His spirit. That even though we can't see him, He is always with us."

There was more discussion after that. About heaven. Ava understands that heaven is a beautiful place, "a place where you get to do all of your favorite things all of the time." It's not a scary place for her at all. Thunderstorms she'll run from and scream at, but heaven is peace to her.

I can't convey in words the experience that Jane and I and our daughters--all of them--had that morning, but we were all together on that driveway, among the bikes and the birds and the "peens."

May God Bless You Today too...and may you feel His spirit and love all around you.

Randomness

2010-03-10T10:35:00.004-05:00

Spring is coming it's coming IT'S COMING.

And bringing lots of inspiration with it, such as:

A perfectly pristine car interior. This morning, as I was getting out of my salty cheerio-infested, blankets-and-burpcloths-everywhere car in the Starbucks parking lot (with a handful of garbage to toss mind you) I was face to face with the interior of a cute little uncluttered Honda next to me. Not a speck of dirt or crumb to be seen, only a stylish little black and white clutch perfectly perched in the back seat.
Books. Not just any books, but ones that I MADE. Tonight I will attend the second of a two-part bookmaking class. Finally, I can stop spending (tons of) money on journals that don't quite meet my need and actually make them myself. Next up? Letter press.
Ballet-dancing with my daughter. She loves it (ballet that is, not necessarily ME dancing with HER). We've got a pad out on the deck that works just perfectly for spinning and plie'-ing. She's teaching my how to tondue later this afternoon.
Little mouths talking. TALKING! Little baby doll is sounding out all kinds of words and is quite delighted with herself for it. Her favorite? Good Girl, Go Go Go!, and You (ooh) did it! I'll get a video posted of it soon.
Outdoor Running. For a while, we weren't sleeping (long story), feeling well (even longer) or running (treadmill just doesn't count sometimes). BASIC NEEDS WERE NOT BEING MET PEOPLE. But now? Long strides, crisp fresh air, and miles and miles of wide open road. It feels sooooooooo good.

How about you? What's inspiring you?

snowed

2010-02-18T11:32:00.012-05:00

It's a different sound today, but it's still a great one (see previous post). Do you hear it? It's the trickle trickle trickle of snow mountains MELTING and the ever so slight whisper of the wind blowing. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and the windows. are. OPEN.

We're still digging out from 60+ inches of snow that fell in less than five (five!) days. It's been two weeks since the last snow fall, or has it only been a week. I'm not sure. It's all a blur. Either way, our street has yet to be professionally plowed and that seems a little ridiculous to me after 14 DAYS. Fortunately, all of the neighbors put aside petty gripes and engaged in some team-building after the first snowfall*. We managed to shovel, yes shovel, a path out of our street, which I never considered a particularly long street until we had to shovel it. It's the Amazon people.

Oh, and the three-point turn that was the death of me in drivers ed has got NOTHING on the 10-point turn required to get out of the driveway. I'm getting so good at it I'm considering a NASCAR career, except that I guess in NASCAR you just drive really fast. So, never mind. But I'm considering a career in something that requires skilled maneuvering. UPS maybe? I do have a fondness for brown...

So what do you do when you're snowed in up to your ears and its near Valentine's Day so there's sugar and chocolate everywhere and your three-year-old has an especially sweet tooth? You join her in eating it, bounce off the walls for a bit of exercise, and then give it up for Lent.

(Oh, you can also make really kick-a*s tunnels, too).

*The first snowfall dumped 38 inches in about 24 hours. The second snowfall (three days later) dumped 26 inches and brought 50 mph wind gusts with it).

pretty sure

2010-01-26T14:41:00.004-05:00

Do you hear that?

Of course you don't because there is NOTHING to hear!

It is quiet. Silent. Void of any crib shaking, doll breaking, how-many-more-minutes-do-I-have-to-sleep asking.

My girls are actually asleep at the SAME TIME. (and I'm not saying this out loud, but it's been more than 10 minutes.)

So what am I doing? Well, I poured a cold cup of coffee, microwaved it pipin' hot, and should've saddled up to the computer to work, to write, to plan but instead, I'm writing to you (well, those of you who are left) because I've abandoned "should've" for this decade and am pursuing creative.

:: Pre-Nap Entertainment::

Our friend Melissa left some treats on our doorstep this morning. It took big sister all of about three seconds to hone in on the prize treat: m&m chocolate chip cookies. I've got to hand it to the kid. She's got more restraint than I do, "Mommy, can I have one after my lunch?"

Sure thing kid, but I'll be damned if I'm waiting til after MY lunch to have one.

We finish up lunch, crumbs and kidney beans everywhere (little sister's contribution to clean up efforts) when big sister pipes up like Rod from the Price is Right: Come on down, your the next contestant on the Price is Right! except her version goes like this:

"Guess what time it is, mommy!?!"

"Oh is it nap time already?" Her father is rubbing off on me. I mess with that little girl waaaay too much.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooo Mommmmmmmmmy!" (panic ensues) "It's time for my cookie!" There are tears.

"Oh...I almost forgot."

She smiles, "Mommy, you were just teasing."

Busted.

"Hey, why don't you go potty first. I'm pretty sure you'll enjoy your cookie more if you get over the pee pee dance."

"No. I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy it more if I don't."

End of discussion.

bitten

2009-12-14T09:53:00.003-05:00

Things are piling up all around me: to do lists, wrapping, presentations, reports, research, shopping, cleaning, fa la la la la la la la la.

And all I want to do is find a corner in the woods and dream about HIM ~~sparkling and beautiful and finding ME~~.

Oh, I got bit all right.

BAD.

(Love you wholly and completely, Pete).

Multitasking

2009-11-19T20:05:00.000-05:00

New Babies....and Monsters?

2009-11-18T15:19:00.008-05:00

The little fella next door is a big brother as of today.

While the girls napped, I baked some cookies to bring over. When Ava woke up all rosy cheeked and cuddly, I asked her if there was anything else she could think of that the big brother might need, or just something she'd like him to have.

She thought about it and then said, "Maybe something I don't need anymore."

Pause.

"Actually, maybe a monster. From my bedroom."

I guess that means she won't be offering to shovel their sidewalks this winter, either. :)

2009-11-16T19:27:00.003-05:00

Dear Ava,

Recently we had quite a laugh. I was feeding Anna while you cut paper with your scissors. I looked down for a second--to make some slobbery sound at Anna or to just fall into her gigantically big blue eyes--before you started walking toward me with a look on your face that quizzically said, "the oddest thing just happened to me."

Then, you opened your mouth and out came this: "Mommy, it didn't even hurt when I cut my hair!?" Like the big deal was that cutting your hair "didn't hurt" (which is a big deal) and not at all that YOU CUT YOUR HAIR.

But if you really didn't know it was a big deal while you were doing it then you knew once you saw the look on my face, which was probably a cross between what I look like in the morning with about your age in hours of sleep and what I look like when I hear (before I see) that you cut your hair. So you started crying and I started...laughing. I started laughing and hugged you to pieces (no pun intended). I guess because, well, you were okay--no harm done--and you actually did a pretty darn good job of it. Here I'm paying {way too much} for you to get your hair cut professionally and all I need to do is give you a pair of rubber gripped, dull bladed scissors and send you to town little girl.

love love love

Mama

Rich

2009-10-08T19:29:00.005-04:00

If you could have seen her, you would have thought she'd struck it rich. Ava bounded out of bed this morning, a morning she'd waited for an excruciating two days to arrive. The anticipation was just too much for her to take, which is why I typically don't tell her about things-- exciting things (like ice cream) and upsetting things (like shots) until they are imminent. Both because the anticipation is almost more than she can bare and because heaven forbid if plans should change. Even slightly.

But announcing these particular events were out of my control. They were preschool events...and ever since she learned about them at preschool on Tuesday, she's been asking, on the hour, "When will it be Thursday?" Well, today it was. These were the big events, in order:

School pictures
The firefighters came for a visit (and were going to let the kids, "climb all over their firetruck, mommy!".
Her day to "show and tell"

Many of you know how fascinated my daughter is with anything having to do with firefighters. Given her peculiar fear of smoke detectors, I wonder if she hasn't made a deal with them: I'll idolize firefighters and do whatever they tell me to do so long as you promise to never ever ever go off in my presence. We try to hold up their end of the bargain by a) changing the batteries twice per year; and b) cleaning our oven regularly so that when I do cook over 400 degrees, the drippings from the sweet potatoes don't smoke us out.

Usually when I ask her anything about preschool, what she did, what she learned, what she loved best, she replies, "I don't know." Then, later on, she'll usually give me dribs and drabs of details..."Ellie went home sick; the nurse told us to sing Happy Birthday while we wash our hands; I didn't get picked to be the line leader today..."

And today, even with so much to tell, her response wasn't any different. But here's what I did learn from her intermittently throughout the rest of the day:

She was a little nervous about the school pictures. "Why were you nervous?" I asked her.

"Because I didn't want the flash to go off in my eyes."

Ugh. I remember that flash. I mean, I had forgotten, but then I remembered. Then came the next detail:

"Did you have to sit in a chair?" I asked.

To which she replied, "Nope. I had to sit on a stool."

I completely forgot about THE stool. The school-picture-taking-stool! Whoa. What a flashback. Instantly, I was six years old with a home-job haircut, sitting on the stool that was so hard to sit on (and keep still!)

I also learned (through one of her imaginary play moments) that the firefighters must've told her that she had to wait for a second turn; that there were other children who hadn't had one yet. That kind of made me smile. She couldn't wait to get her little self all over that shiny red fire truck and she was going to try again and again and again to experience it. She's not going to let an opportunity go untapped; even if its thwarted, she's at least going to give it a try.

I was also pleased to hear that she asked where the lady firefighters were. I don't consider myself a feminist in the radical sense, but I must say, in this world, I'm psyched to have a daughter who only sees what she CAN do, not what only other people do. (Although I want her to be a firefighter about as much as I want to imagine the day she leaves home. In fact, her daddy has already made her, at three years old, SIGN an agreement that states: I will let my daddy come to college with me and sleep on my floor all the days I'm there.)

And then, there's show and tell. Ironically, she had planned three weeks ago to bring in her fire hat and her firey red dancin' shoes for the occasion. I guess the stars were aligned with the firefighters coming for a visit and all.

Now, as I write, she's upstairs getting a story and a song (or two, or three). Probably asking her daddy questions like, "What dangerous things did you do as a little boy?" and, "Why were the firefighter's hats yellow today?"

And when I go to bed, I'll remember how excited Ava was when she woke up in the morning. How in love with the day she was before she even knew what it would bring. She did strike it rich. She strikes it rich every single day.

I think she's onto somethin'.

a morning in the life

2009-09-15T10:18:00.003-04:00

Monday morning began the way it usually does:

I get up at 4 am, feed Anna
Sitting in a corner at Starbucks, working and drinking decaf by 5 am
Walk back home at 7:50 am
Kiss husband goodbye as he leaves for work, brace for three year old's full-on jump/dive into me
Three year old asks, "What do you want to do now, Mommy?"
I tell her she needs to eat breakfast, go potty, then we'll play til Anna wakes up
There's a bit of protest, but that's what we do, in that order
Anna wakes at 9 am. I feed her
We go to the park. I run 6 miles with the girls (figure that's about 60 pounds to push); I'm a glutton for punishment, that's all there is to it, really
Then we head over to the playground

On this particular morning, the playground is wet, which means Ava's shorts (and a little bit of her underwear) are wet, too. I take off her shorts before we get into the car to head home.

We're heading home when I remember that we need diapers. And sunscreen for vacation. Pete needs V8 juice. Fifty dollars, gone like that, in the amount of time it takes a traffic light to turn from green to yellow--about three seconds.

I decide I better get gas before I get anything else (there goes $3o more). With a full tank, we head to Target.

I get the girls out of the car. The parking lot, surprisingly, doesn't feel like the county fair on derby day. It's actually...calm. The sun is hot and bright and everything shiny is sucking it up and spitting it back out. We're squinting from all sides.

Ava's hand is in my hand, other hand is occupied with Anna's increasingly heavy carrier, and we three make our way across the pavement. We get to the automatic doors at Target when this little voice at my side says, "Mommy. It's okay that I'm in my underwear." Just like that--a statement, an affirmation, nothing remotely like a question.

"Well, look at you. You are in your underwear, aren't you?" Elmo and rainbows were everywhere.

We don't know what else to do except laugh, so that's exactly what we do. We laugh and laugh and laugh all the way back to the car, into her wet shorts, and back into Target. Again.

I should've just let the kid stay in her underpants for crying out loud. But this is what happens: I go into scare-tactic mode and imagine that every grown person in Target is some twisted pedophile who will find out where we live all on account that Sesame Street is currently advertised across my daughter's hiney.

So, I scold myself the entire time we're in Target for being so ridiculous. I forget the V8 juice but pick up body soap (which, it turns out, we don't need), tell Ava that, no, she cannot have another fishing pole, I don't care if it's Spiderman, that goes for chocolate milk, too, and don't you dare rip off the straw so that I have to buy it, and anyway, that does not mean you'll be able to drink it. I quickly reclaim my gentleness and gently remind her that we're going on vacation in a couple of weeks and if we always bought what we wanted, we probably wouldn't be able to afford a vacation and a whole lot of other things, like squishy bars or ice cream. This satisfies her and we check out.

Skip Skip Skip to my Lou, Skip Skip Skip to my Lou, Skip Skip Skip to my Lou all on a Monday mornin'.

a memory

2009-09-09T18:42:00.003-04:00

When Pete and I were planning our wedding, we contemplated a videographer. Well, I did. Prompted by a recent viewing of an old friends' wedding (one that I wasn't able to make) on DVD.

We had a photographer lined up, but didn't we need a videographer, too? Afterall, our children would want to watch it someday, wouldn't they? I came up with other reasons, too. Won't video catch things that I'll be sure to miss on such a busy day? And it'll capture other things that I don't ever want to forget! And then there's the thinking that you need something just because it's available, or because other people decided they needed it so you must need it to.

We were driving somewhere, Pete and I, as I agonized over the cost, the benefit, the logistics. He tolerated it for a while, but then very calmly and simply turned to me and said, "We don't need a videographer. Some things should be remembered exactly as you remember them when they happened. Some things are just better stored in our memory than on a disc."

In a second, I knew he was right. He was absolutely right. I did not want to remember that day through the lens of anything or anyone other than my own memory. And as for our children and what they'll miss because of it? Well, we have some fantastic photos--and every now and then, little love will crawl up onto my lap and ask me to tell her about the day we got married. So we look through the photos and I tell her my stories and then she tells me some of her own. I wonder what we both would have lost if I left it up to technology to tell the story of our wedding.

I was reminded of this whole experience yesterday when I took her to her first day of 3 year old preschool. I walked into the doors and there were all the moms, clicking away as their baby moved from center to center to touch and feel and smell everything that was new and
right-sized, and primary colored. Some were crying (screaming), some were laughing, some were quietly taking it all in. And there I was, mom in her blue jeans, infant in her arm, and her 3 year old by her side. No camera.

For a second I felt that grip of failure. It's my daughter's first day of preschool and I didn't bring a camera to capture it? What was I thinking? How did I not prepare for this?

Then, I remembered what Pete said to me, now six years ago. I caught my breath, I turned to my little one and I took in everything about her. How she smelled, where she stood, what she wore; how her eyes glanced from station to station but how she stood, so still, at my side. Five little fingers gripped tightly around mine. A bit of worry, a bit of excitement reflected in her big blue eyes.

I kissed the top of her head and she asked me not to go. I told her I'd be back, that I'd always be back and got her started on a puzzle. I watched her at that little table for a second and I'll never forget, ever, those moments. And if I'd had a camera, I might've captured the setting and the colors but I'd have missed every one of the details that mattered.

a scent

2009-08-25T12:39:00.008-04:00

There is this line in a U2 song, "Miracle Drug"...
Freedom has a scent
like the top of a newborn baby's head...
I won't analyze it. I'll just say that it's true. It's really really true.

*

I've sat down to write about a dozen posts in the past four months.
Kept coming up empty.
Partly the pressure to find the perfect words to describe a perfect being; partly the pressure to find the perfect words to convey a perfect feeling; partly the pressure to find the perfect words to share an imperfect perspective. So, I've decided that I'm done with pressure. I love writing too much. And it seems these years, I have plenty to write about.

*

It feels good to be back. I can't make any promises about how often. That assumes, of course, that anyone is still reading. But I am back. So stay tuned. There's lots to share.

2009-07-24T14:35:00.002-04:00

I'm planning to be back...hopefully in August. Life for everyone is busy, I know. But here, I'm just taking a little extra time to enjoy this time that will go way too fast.

Hope you're having a great summer!

Almost Time

2009-03-14T11:16:00.003-04:00

Well, there have been a lot of developments around these parts. Next month at this time, we'll be reporting some really big news--little love turns three and itty bitty love will be on its way (if not here already!)

This last trimester hasn't been without it's trials, though. Namely, the ruptured achilles tendon on my husband's left foot. He ruptured it on Valentine's Day playing basketball--moments before I said OUT LOUD to a friend, who is also pregnant, "It just occurred to me...our husband's could get really hurt playing this game!"

Fortunately, my mom had made a surprise visit that weekend, so she was able to look after the little one while Pete and I whittled our time away in the ER. He had surgery on February 23 and just got his cast off Monday. He won't be walking for another couple of months, though we're hoping for a "slow limp" in about one and a half.

Needless to say, I've neglected plenty, like this blog, for instance. And sparkling clean floors, which really bugs me since the nesting urge is in full effect. Oh, and all the letter writing and phone calling that I'd planned to do before the baby came.

A good friend suggested we take out an insurance policy with the next pregnancy, since I broke several bones in my hand and wrist with number one and now Pete and his injury with number two. Hmmm...

At any rate, I hope you all are well. I'll try to post some pictures soon of our current state--crutches, pregnant, runny noses and all.

Spring is coming!

Hiney's & Rainbows

2009-01-26T14:58:00.006-05:00

The other morning little one told me she had a dream about rainbows.

I asked her if she slid down it (a la..say say oh playmate, come out and play with me, and bring your dolly's three, climb up my apple tree. Slide down my rainbow...)

She informed me that she, in fact, had. With all of her friends.

That is, those who sleep in bed with her: Elmo, Big Bird, Curious George, Bob, JoJo, baby, and Otto.

She made it a point to tell me that Shamu did NOT slide down the rainbow.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because he doesn't have a hiney," she said.

I guess the we only slide on our hiney's rule has taken effect.

Splurge: Big Girl Bed

It's on its way. The big girl bed is on its way. Is she ready for it? Without question. Is her mommy? Not a chance.

I guess that's the conundrum of parenthood: praying for them (and teaching them how) to grow and live into responsible, independent, and loving people...while at the same time wanting them to stay little for just a little longer.

tid bits

2009-01-15T14:41:00.004-05:00

We're up to our ears in infection around here...I thought 14 months of breast feeding was supposed to get us off the hook for those.

Still, sleepless nights (and days) and unprovoked fears haven't stopped this little one from exercising her imagination.

Scene: On the phone with her daddy, who is at work

Little One: Daddy, you forgot your belt today.

Daddy: Shoot. How am I going to keep my pants from falling down?

(Mommy's thinking to herself about what Little One might say: tape measure, tape, something obvious in a not-so-obvious way)

Little One: I think you need to find someone else to put in there with you. That will keep them up.

::

Hope 2009 is off to a great, sleep-filled start.

::

Merry Blessed Christmas

2008-12-24T18:56:00.003-05:00

Is it really almost Christmas (as in five hours away?).

Merry Merry Christmas. Hope it's a love-filled day and a heart-filled year.

Fa la la la love, Maureen

It's Happening

2008-12-11T15:13:00.003-05:00

Slowly, I am breaking my own rules. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would. See, I use the pregnancy excuse (it's really very handy).

I do realize the slippery slope I'm on. Break one rule, two are right behind. It's like eating cookie dough. If I can resist the tiniest temptation to put butter+sugar+flour+vanilla to tongue, I'm saved. If I give in, even just a little bit, I'm doomed. A taste turns into a spoonful turns into sick-on-the-couch-with-no-relief-in-sight.

I'm doomed.

Why, you ask? Because I actually went to the mall to shop in my sweatpants. Today. And I was neither a) coming from a workout; or b) out of my mind.

And they weren't even cute sweatpants. They were six year old navy drawstring sweatpants that I have worn every night from 7p-10p for the past seven hundred and fifty three days (or thereabouts). In fact (if I'm going to spill it I might as well spill it all) they even have a toothpaste stain on the hem of the bottom right leg. I am reminded of this stain every night when little one says, "Mommy, you forgot to wash your pants again."

Which leads me to another rule: I go long long periods of time between washing the sweatpants that I wear to read to my daughter and unwind in at nighttime. The reason is attributed to the fear that these sweatpants-of-all-sweatpants will not be the same if I wash them. I know you know what I mean. Maybe it's not sweats for you, but it's something. You have (or have had) the same fear, haven't you?

But wearing them out IN PUBLIC takes it to a new level (or is it a new low). Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the "have I done enough for everyone for Christmas"anxiety, maybe it was the baby growing in my belly. Whatever the excuse, there really is no excuse.

::

Music to My Ears, and Some that Makes Tears

2008-12-05T15:27:00.007-05:00

Two local radio stations have been playing Christmas music EXCLUSIVELY since about November 18th. If I do the math (which I don't do very well) that adds up to about eight (or is it nine) days before Thanksgiving.

But you know, I didn't even mind.

I like Christmas music and I'm NOT (I mean NOT) worried about gifts and buying this year, so it didn't feel like a ticking bomb to me. We're not spending as much money but we're spending A LOT of time...together. Doing things that Christ and Christmas music and Advent inspire us to do this time of year. Like lighting balsam and cedar scented candles, baking gingerbread boys and girls til they're a little too crisp around the edges, saying extra prayers and dropping in on lonely neighbors, playing in flour (which, apparently, is way more fun to play in than to bake with) and singing way off key.

The other day I switched things up a bit and turned off the radio. I couldn't listen to Elvis' "Blue Christmas" one more time (I think it was on a 22-song repeat) and worse, that song about the little boy (or is it a little girl) whose mom is dying and he wants to buy her a pair of shoes so she can look pretty if she "meets Jesus tonight..." You know the song, I know you do. My husband gags when it comes on and even though it is a bit hokey (alright, a lot hokey) I cannot help but cry EVERY. TIME. I. HEAR. IT. It's a train-wreck song. You know it's going to hurt to look but you just can't bring yourself to look away.

So anyway, I traded up the radio for Christmas CD's while I worked. This was around 1pm.

At about 3pm, I got out my little writing pad, which I use to write about Ava or what's on my mind. Here's the first line:

"I feel a little melancholy this afternoon; I can't pinpoint the source, but I just do."

As I inked the period on the page, it occurred to me.

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that James Taylor's Christmas CD has been playing on repeat for the last two hours and I never even once realized it."

I immediately ejected James Taylor, inserted Burl Ives, and presto...JOY.

::

One more thing about the radio. I listen to it because it's convenient and I like the variety. I have always liked music but never loved it. Until I met my husband, that is. He loves music + I love him = I love music. He's always listening to it (never on the radio), singing it, or playing it and I just wanted to let him know (publicly) how much I admire that about him and how grateful I am that he's shared it with me and instilled it, naturally, in our daughter. I rely on him for a lot of things that he probably thinks I take for granted, but I do notice (and grin) on those dreadful treadmill runs when my iPOD has been updated with all kinds of music to my ears.

Letter. Writing. Campaign.

2008-11-20T13:55:00.002-05:00

News Flash: For those of you who don't know, and I do apologize, I am pregnant with Number two. The bundle is slated to arrive mid-latish April, putting me at about 19 weeks, half way there. Okay, on with the post...

Dear Time:

Please slow down. I’m serious. My daughter was just born and now she’s two. And a half. It was just Halloween and now people are asking what I’m making for Thanksgiving. I started thinking about what to make for Thanksgiving and someone asked me if I’d started my Christmas shopping.

This has got to stop. I’m not sure how you’ll do it, but please, just slow down. Just for one day, I beg you.

Signed,

Timed Out

Dear Daylight Savings Time:

I’m not sure how you’re related to Time (note separate letter, above) but I just wanted to let you know that you’ve really screwed things up for me and my family. It’s been a couple of weeks now and we still can’t seem to figure ourselves out. I’m irritable and waking at odd hours, my kid tells me she’s ready for a nap at noon (which is really 1pm, her old nap time) and I can’t very well send her to bed without lunch, so we struggle through the next hour until 1pm (which is really 2pm) at which point she’s so tired that it takes her another hour to fall asleep, which she does until nearly 5pm because she’s so tired. By 5pm when she wakes it’s nearly dinnertime. She tells me she just ate (which is basically true). By the time dinner is through and the table is cleared it feels like it should be 9pm, but she’s not tired because she just slept three hours and it’s really only 7pm. Even though its dark enough to be midnight.

I just can’t figure you out. When are we actually in “daylight savings time” anyway? When we spring ahead or when we fall back or just always?

I’m sorry to be so feisty, but I’m tired and I’m pregnant.

Signed,

Too tired and cranky to come up with a clever sign-off

Dear CVS guy:

Listen, I haven’t been in your store in months, maybe even a year. And to be honest, when I do walk in there I start to have heart palpitations as it is. I’m not sure how you could fit one more Whitman’s Sampler Candy box, but you do.

At any rate, when you needed to pass me in the way-overcrowded-aisle (not with people, mind you, with stuff) all you needed to say was, “Excuse me,” and I would’ve happily moved aside.

But you didn’t.

You stood there and grunted and rolled your eyes when I didn’t even know you were there.

Maybe I’m a little more sensitive these days, being pregnant and all, but even if I weren’t pregnant I’d think you were pretty rude to someone who was just minding her own business and preparing to spend money on window candles that probably won’t work anyway.

So there, I feel better now.

Signed,

I'll huff and puff and blow that house down!

Dear Jesus:

I think we must be doing something right because our little two-year-old darling told me that I should talk to You the other day.

Our toaster wasn’t working right and I said, “Well, that’s a little bit of a problem” because I’d promised her toast and jam with breakfast. She told me that I should talk to You because You listen to us when we have problems and that You are everywhere.

Sigh.

Love,

Maureen

Dear Husband:

Remember when were dating and first married and agreed that we’d never be like our parents and watch TV in different rooms? Heck, that we wouldn’t even watch it on different couches?

Well, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’ve started watching TV on different couches and if you keep up this Battlestar Galactica fixation, we might just end up watching it in different rooms, too.

Is this what happens when you have kids?

Love,

Wife

Ps….I’m pretty sure I have a crush on Chuck, but he kind of reminds me of you, if that makes it okay.

Dear Private Caller:

I’m not sure who you are or what you want, but please stop calling. At least move your pestering to the after-nap hour. One of these days you’re going to wake my little one and then I’ll really be annoyed.

Signed,

Publicly Pi**ed

Dear Peanut M&M’s in my cupboard:

I hear your taunts and I’m ignoring you. I am not going to open you, so please stop trying. Please.

Signed,

Stuffed well enough with my own peanut, thank you

::

Dear Olivia (of the Olivia series for children, by Ian Falconer):
I like your sass and all, but we have to talk about all this standing on tables and chairs business that you seem to enjoy (and get away with).

To date, my 2 year old is a great rule follower. She knows not to "write on people" and to "sit on her bottom." But when we read your stories and you are doing all of the above, it''s planting a seed that I'm afraid is about to sprout.

So, at least if you're going to do those things, maybe your mom and dad could at least correct you on it. Publicly.

Thanks,

Mama of a fan

Veteran's Day

2008-11-11T12:47:00.007-05:00

My husband and I live in a town that doesn't recognize Veteran's Day the way it was recognized in the one where we grew up. Here, the kids are all in school, learning to read and write and enjoy freedoms that soldiers fought so hard to protect. There isn't a parade and many porches are bare of stars and stripes.

We spoke to five people before 9am who were surprised to see my husband home from work today: they didn't realize it was Veteran's Day.

It's surprising and it isn't at the same time. They say that the "squeaky wheel gets the oil"-- none of the soldiers I know, enlisted and Veteran, squeak about much. They don't ask for recognition and plenty don't even begrudge the rest of us who take our freedoms for granted. But that doesn't mean the rest of us shouldn't go out of our way to give it. In what we say and how we live.

Yesterday I was disappointed because the corner Starbucks was closed unexpectedly. I had to walk four blocks before I found another. What an inconvenience.

Until I realized how ridiculous I sounded. When did I start to expect so much?

I know I certainly have a lot to learn about humility and sacrifice from men and women who gave up lots of conveniences to serve our great great country.

In an article I read yesterday, a woman was thanking a soldier who saved her son's life in combat. She thanked him for his courage. He respectfully replied, "Courage had nothing to do with it ma'am. Love did."

I guess I could learn some things about love, too.

Thank you, Veterans. Every day, thank you.

More Scenes From the Lunch Table

2008-11-03T12:16:00.006-05:00

Lunch time at the table. Mena, Poppy (Grandma and Grandpa), Mommy, Daddy, and little one (AF) are eating pizza that Mena and Poppy brought with them from New York.

AF: Mmmmm this pizza is good. Thank you for making this for me, mommy.

Mommy: Thanks, Ava. But I didn't make the pizza, I just heated it up.

Mena: We got it from a pizzeria in town that mommy and daddy lived in before they were married.

AF: I want to go there when I get married.

Laughter

AF: Actually, I won't get married, I'll just go there.

Louder laugher

Daddy: What did she say?

Mommy: She said, "Actually, I won't get married, I'll just go there instead."

Ava: No mommy, I didn't say "instead." I didn't say that word.

Extra loud laughter.

A Splurge of Mint:

Candy hasn't appealed much to me lately, but when I came across these mini's in the store, I couldn't resist.

365 days ago

2008-10-23T07:24:00.003-04:00

One year ago on Splashes and Splurges, this is what I wrote about.

I think it's my favorite post.

It begs an equally happy update.

It's coming.

scenes from the lunch room

2008-10-15T06:44:00.004-04:00

Ava's finishing up lunch, twirling her sippy cup around and around in her high chair.

Ava: Mommy, I want Santa to bring me a pink guitar.

Me: Well, we need to write him a letter. What's the first song you'll play on your pink guitar if he brings you one?

Silence. I start cleaning up. A minute or two passes. I forget I asked a question.

Ava: I love you

Me: (Heart melting) Oh, I love you too, peanut.

Ava: No mommy. I Love You, that's the first song I'll play.

::

A fall splurge

I had a $5 gift card to Target. I really wanted to buy a new clock with it, but it still would've been too much money. So I bought this wooden leaf instead. It needed to feel more "leafy" around here, you know, fall-like. So I hung it on the front door but found it hanging in the garage the next day. Today I'm moving into the house. Bring it on, hubs.

doing, doing...DONE

2008-10-08T19:50:00.003-04:00

Here's the truth: I am way better at reading, writing, and talking about organizing than I am about doing organizing.

But I'm changing my ways.

You heard me. I'm disassembling my avoidance disorder bit by bit by bit.

And in celebration of favorite season fall, first on the list is clutter.

The word itself invokes chaos: clutter=where to start?

In the past? Nowhere.

In the present? With purpose.

Here's how we're doing it:

With a pad and a pen. We've observed every room (which isn't many in our townhouse) and asked this question: How do we want to use this room?

Here's how we answered:

Living/TV Room: Relaxing and Reading
Kitchen/Great Room: Creating
Bedroom: Dressing and Sleeping
Bathroom: Showering and Grooming

In chunks. It's a work in progress, but we're listing the items that don't meet the purpose and doing one of three things:

a. eliminating them (trash, giveaway, charity)
b. moving them (e.g. books from bedroom to living room, arts & crafts from all over to kitchen/great room)
c. leaving them put

In phases (I'm a big fan). Once the rooms are perfectly purposed, we'll do one more thing:

Revisit each room, and do one more "do we really need this" exercise. Mostly this goes for my books and magazines (I plan to do the article extraction thing--cut out keeper articles and notebook them). I already tackled the clothes (word of advice: it hurts but don't look back). I'm putting off the books. I really might need them someday. Right!?

I'm going to do this. If I do, I've told myself, I get to splurge a bit at Christmastime and make this home a cozy winter wonderland.

::

Note: this is a grandparent/aunt/love Ava update

We took Ava for her flu shot this afternoon. Since I just had mine and still have the bruise and the swelling to prove it, I was really, really, really dreading it for her.

We spent some time with her doctor kit beforehand, giving her "baby" a shot and talking about how it would just pinch for a minute. While she wasn't exactly thrilled to be getting one, she didn't protest much (the extra goldfish at snack time might have helped).

Her daddy and I held her tight while the nurse prepared the shot. She squealed and worse-than- winced in the less-than-a-second it took, but that little darling didn't shed one tear. In fact, before the nurse had put the needle away, little Ava, in the sweetest little voice, looked at her and said, "Thank you."

Pitter Patter Pitter Patter.

::

Splurge-potential

No splurge to report. I'm making an apple cake for a meeting on Friday. If all goes well, I'll pass the recipe along.

an itch to scratch

2008-10-02T18:48:00.004-04:00

Scene: Dinner table, Ava is finished and has started to scratch her head.

Daddy: Do you have a scratch?

Ava: Yes, but I itched it back with all the other itches.

::

Cool, fall weather today. I think I'll make pumpkin bread.

::

Splurge-time:

A new c on tainer for my flour (1/2 the price at the store where you're only required to buy one).I was tired of only being able to fit a 1/2 cup scoop in the jar I had. Nothing that I bake ever requires just a 1/2 cup of flour, so I decided to make things a little bit easier.

candy corn and...Santa?

2008-09-30T19:33:00.003-04:00

Ava informed me that it was time to write Santa a letter. "No," she thought, "let's call him instead."

I explained to her that he responded best to letters and that if he took phone calls he'd never get anything made.

Curious, I asked, "What do you want to say in your letter to Santa?"

"I want him to bring me a pink guitar and a shirt with a pocket at Christmas."

::

Containing the Splurge (and a bit of the urge)

We've been cleaning out around here. Sorting, tossing, and containing. While we've been trying to use what we have, we needed a little bit extra, too. So we bought some storage containers, like these, from the container store. (Careful though, shipping can get expensive).

detachment

2008-09-22T14:01:00.004-04:00

I can't remember what life was like before the internet. I mean, did I really use the library as my go-to resource for information? What if I needed to know what the most widely used vegetable was on a Sunday afternoon? (The onion, by the way). Would I actually have to wait until Monday morning to find out?

Not to mention all of chock-full-of inspiration blogs that are out there and the very talented people behind them. My geography has even improved with all of this globalization. I mean, I knew somebody lived in Provo, Utah...but who and what do they do?

But sometimes, the internet can be all too consuming...and after an unplanned but well-worth-it break from cyber-sucking, I'm here to say that detachment is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Don't get me wrong. I clung dearly to email and couldn't help myself from Google-ing "toddlers with temperatures" and other random inquiries, but I didn't read one single blog, didn't even update my own. And really, it was liberating.

Here's why, from where I sit.

I think that healthy access to healthy information can turn addictive, which makes it, well, not healthy. I think that it is productive when it pushes, when it prods, when it inspires, and enhances a life.

But it's unproductive when it turns into a stick that we measure our own life by.

Take me, for instance. Generally, I blog about the funny, every-day, sometimes boring things in life; rarely about the nothing-went-right days with extra mistakes on the side. In general, blogs are a digest of what's working in life--where we're excelling, learning, and experiencing some degree of success.

And that is great. I love to learn from others. I NEED to learn from others. I know I'm not alone in that.

But sometimes, I think it is easy to read others' digests of success and feel like an entire volume of loser. When that becomes the lens ("let's see what someone else is doing that I am not") then it's time to change our lens. I can't speak for men, but I think women, generally, suffer from the big comparison-sucking disorder. Maybe it's our bodies, our marriages, our success, our finances, our jobs, our children, our parenting, you name it--we do it and we pay for it.

So, what did I do with the time I didn't spend blogging or reading blogs?

I rested. I actually put my feet up on several occasions and closed my eyes. It felt great.
I prayed. I sat quietly and just prayed. I received lots of guidance that I might not have from a blog.
I organized. Mostly activities to do with my daughter so that when she woke, we could get down to business and laugh.
I cooked for my family. I even made my first pot-roast ever and it turned out really really good.

This detachment period was really good for me. I don't tend to fall into comparison traps (I've worked hard over the years to avoid them) but when I'm tired and overwhelmed with work, they're easy to fall into.

So, I'll try to be more regular on the site now that I'm "back"--that's assuming that you're not going to do a detachment period of your own. If you do, enjoy it! And hope you'll visit again when it's over.

Splurgin Sweet!

My mother in-law got me this cookbook. Little one and I have been trying to stick to an every-other-week or at minimum an every-month sampling of its recipes. The hard part is selecting which recipe to try (and staying out of the dough). We haven't been disappointed yet.

Gulp

2008-09-09T15:38:00.007-04:00

I'm still alive and everyone is okay.

Actually, I've been working on a new project for work, which is exciting AND...remember that writing course I splurged about a while back? Well, it's started and it's intense.

But I promise I'll be back soon. In fact, in all this overload I've even started fleshing out a running blog...but one that's geared toward women and especially mom's.

And as soon as I publish this post, I'm going to re-read this earlier post. Because there I go again, opening my mouth.

So stay tuned.

Splurge-less

We have not been splurging one bit. But as the weather gets cooler and I grow more tired, I can't help but daydream about this little ensemble.

Your (You're) It

2008-08-12T06:50:00.005-04:00

I run pretty hard during the week--up early and out fast--so that when a scheduled rest day rolls around, I do what I can to protect it. However, there are three exceptions, three occasions when rest is overruled.

Those three exceptions?

1. A new pair of sneakers
2. A inspirational running story
3. Watching someone else run

Even if running isn't your outlet of choice, I'm sure you can relate. Everyone has that one thing that belongs to them, that one thing that feels as familiar to them as their own two hands. Maybe it's cooking, maybe it's golf, maybe it's fencing. The great thing is, you don't have to be the best at it, heck, you don't even have to be good at it. But it should be three things:

Enjoyable: you look forward to it or you miss it when you don't do it for a while

Stress-relieving: it should settle you down, maybe relax you, breathing comes easily and naturally (well, maybe not easily, if it's athletically-induced, but you definitely be breathing)

Limit-testing: you might start out casually, running a half-mile or baking homemade brownies, but with small successes comes confidence, and with confidence comes risk-taking. Your thing pushes you to expand and to grow within it. Maybe a half-mile turns into a 5K, maybe a homemade brownie turns into a canned peaches or a contest entry at next year's bake off.

And eventually, you don't even mind those instances when you fall short, when you have a bad run or when you burn the biscotti. You accept yourself when you fall short and you accept others when they fall short, too. Because somewhere along the way, as you were working on improving your thing, your thing was improving you, too.

So, you're it. What's your thing?

Smores Splurge

With the left-over marshmallows from the rice krispie event (am I spelling that right?) and the found-chocolate in the cupboard (how does chocolate exist in my house without me knowing it) and the stale graham crackers in the pantry, we made smores yesterday at lunchtime. We even ate them before lunch. We're living on the wild side in this household. My excuse (and I've been using it a lot lately) is that, "It's summer. What the heck."

And with the 55 degree night we had and the low-humidity, low-80 degree days we're having, you bet it is.

a time for things

2008-08-08T14:26:00.007-04:00

There was a time I could do a cartwheel without fearing what I might break...
A time I could eat pepperoni rolls without worrying what I might gain...
A time I could watch horror films without a pillow over my eyes...
and hands over my ears...
And there was a time when I could eat avocados without dying, nearly.

That's right, avocados nearly killed me.

It started about three years ago, right about the time I became pregnant with my little love. I was feasting on guacamole and extra salty tortilla chips and enjoying a perfectly perfect summer day.

In an hour, everything changed.

When I tell you I experienced the most violent stomach pain imaginable, believe me. There wasn't a single position that made it tolerable either...lying down, standing up, sitting down...all the same excruciating, stomach-on-fire pain. I had to talk myself out of dying, and thankfully, I was successful.

Of course, I didn't know it was the avocado right away. Afterall, who is allergic to avocado? After a few more experiences, it became evident that I was.

Well, I had another dance with death on Saturday. I had gotten a little arrogant and figured a bite or two of my husband's sushi was harmless, the avocado was no bigger than my pinky nail, how much harm could it do?

A lot. And it made up for lost time.

Turns out, the allergy isn't terribly common, but it isn't unheard of. Apparently, the oils from the avocado pit are the culprit...other people experience a similar sensation from onions and bananas, even.

Unfortunately, the latest experience did take causalities. Because the avocado was mixed with other foods, like sushi and vanilla flavored yogurt (formerly a staple in my diet), I will probably never ever be eating them again, either.

Tainted love.

How about you? Any foods you can't eat due to allergy or overdose or casualty of either?

Weekend Splurge
Still doing really great with the restricted spending. I've been able to cut my grocery bills pretty significantly by paying attention to sales and clipping coupons...and buying meat on sale and then freezing it. (I was never really good at that because the whole thawing thing never meshed with my planning or patience scale).

So the big splurge of the weekend will probably involve another shot at rice krispie treats that end up in our stomach and not underfoot...

sprinkles (on top)

2008-08-04T07:19:00.006-04:00

Photo Courtesy of Rick Mandelson

I learned that there is a direct connection between your jaw and your hips.
To ease the tension from both, rest your tongue behind your two front teeth, soften your face.
Remember how that feels, and then try to do it often.

Or just look at this picture.

Splurgin' Sweet

Ava and I made Rice Krispie treats for my husband's work get-together. They had lots and lots of sprinkles ("there mommy, that's better" said Ava after emptying the entire jar into the crispy, marshmallowy, buttery mix).

We decided to go for a run while they cooled, because there's always room to fit in "one more thing." (I can hear my husband sighing).

That meant that we were running late, so after we got home everything was in rush-time. We cleaned up, cut them into squares, and arranged them on a Hello Kitty plate, which complemented the sprinkles nicely, I might add.

I quickly carried Ava, her shoes, her drinks, and who knows what else I grabbed along the way. Threw everything (except her) into the car, put the treats on top, and set Ava in her car seat. Watched her buckle herself in (because everything is, "I have to do it myself" these days). Shut the door, buckled in myself, thought for a second about where we were going, and left.

With the treats on top of the car.

When we got to the party, Ava said, "Mommy, forgot the treats!"

Oh yeah. The treats...

And then I remembered the last place I saw them. On top of the car.

When I went out to check, they were, of course, not there. No treats.

But when we drove home and turned onto our street, there they were, one with the pavement.

I spent the next 15 minutes scraping them up. Those darn sprinkles.

Mind Mapping

2008-07-31T13:49:00.010-04:00

Mental models ~~are~~ can be exhausting.

They are internal assumptions that we hold about how things/we work, how things/we are, and how things/we should be--and then apply them to our external surroundings.

In other words, it's what we believe mothering, weight, parenting, marriage, cleanliness, simplicity, tidiness, organized, healthy, smart, pretty, savvy, chic, creative, looks like.

And often, we spend our time comparing how far away or how far surpassed we are to that model in our life.

How clean our desk should look
What kind of relationship we should have with our children
What good home-keeping looks like
What successful feels like
What thin looks like
How fast we should be running
How much money we should be making

You get the idea.

And while mental models are important in making sure that we aim high, their existence doesn't guarantee that the aim is right. For you. Or your family.

I do a lot of journaling as a way to help challenge my own mental models and to make sure that my aim is right. Usually, if the model is wrong or our aim is off, we feel tension around it. I ask a series of questions in the process, an adaptation of which I'll share below. To illustrate their impact, I'll use an example that a friend shared with me recently:

Mental Model: Good employees go to the office summer party. I should go.

Questions:

Why should you go? Because they're expecting me too and they've put a lot of time into arranging it. I'll probably end up having fun, anyway.

What happens if you don't go? I'll feel guilty.

What would you rather do? Stay home and spend time with my husband and son.

How will you feel if you don't do what you'd rather do? I'll feel guilty, too. And resentful. But they'll understand more than work would.

If you had a party and someone couldn't come because they wanted to spend time with their family, how would you react? I'd totally understand. I'd probably even envy them a little bit.

What makes you think that work wouldn't feel the same way? I'm not sure, actually. Maybe they would.

Does considering that make you feel differently about going? A little bit. But I'm also afraid I might miss something.

And you're less concerned about missing something at home? I'm more confident at home, I trust home more than I trust work.

She thought that being a good employee meant attending the summer office party. But through the questions, she realized that her model was more a mask that perpetuated some time sucking energy draining behaviors. She left our conversation questioning her values and wanting to spend more time with her family, with whom she felt at her best and who deserved her best.

I suspect that by reallocating her energy to things that bring real fulfillment, she'll have more positive energy to give to things that bring the financial fulfillment as well.

Not all models are masks, or drains. But it's important to continuously challenge them to make sure they are helping us to become our best, not getting in the way of it.

Feeding Connections

2008-07-25T07:06:00.012-04:00

Image by: Little Friends of Printmaking Photostream

Earlier this week I had an interesting conversation with my husband.

Well, the topic wasn't interesting, but the circumstances were.

He was looking over my shoulder, onto my computer screen, where I had my Google Reader page displayed.

"What's that you're looking at?" he asked.

"You mean my Google reader?" is how I replied, but what I thought was, "duh, are you serious?"

Because context is important, let's get something straight. I like pens and I like pencils. I love paper and I don't care if its already been used, I'll find a way to use it again. The extent of my computer-wizness is that I can type really really fast. And while there's a strange and bit obsessive reason as to why, I'll save it for another day. The bottom line is, other than their keys, I don't know much else about computers, even less about the world wide web, and double less about electronic gadgets that can make life easier.

But I do know an itty bit about RSS feeds.

Don't worry, you'll read all about them in a minute.

So I proceeded to probe my husband who knows everything about technology and websites and efficient surfing (doesn't he?) and learned that he knows nothing about Google reader.

Once I got over the initial shock, it occurred to me that if he doesn't know, then there are probably a lot of people who don't know.

So I sat down to write a blog about it. This was on Tuesday.

I eked out a paragraph and then did some procrastinating, specifically, other blog reading. You can imagine my total and utter disbelief at the first post I landed on.

It was all about RSS feeds. Written THAT DAY.

At first, I was a little bit freaked out. Then I was a little bit discouraged. What was I going to write about now?

But the truth is, Simple Mom did a WAY better job of describing what this time-saving genius application is than I ever could have done. So you must visit her blog and read all about it. Then set yourself up with one.

I'll give you a primer, though: subscribing to a feed, usually through your email account, is like an inbox for all of the websites you visit regularly. You don't have to keep checking to see if they've been updated, once you "subscribe" to them, they appear bolded in your "inbox" as soon as they are.

There's another really strange occurrence related to blogs and topic ideas that I also experienced with Simple Mom, but I'm afraid you won't believe me if I told you about it, so I'll skip it and marvel in silence at the way God gets his messages to us.

Splurge & Crafts

Ava and I spent about an hour in Michael's craft store this week. I'm not very crafty. Creative, but not crafty. But she loooovvvvveeeeesssss "arts and crafts" so we went for some resupply.

Is there anything better than a secret sale you don't know about until you're in the checkout? We picked up what I estimated to be about $25 worth of stickers, beads, glue, and paper lanterns--but ended up being (drum roll please)....$9.08!

We hit it right on Wednesday. Big sale on things already on sale. What a feeling. I don't need breathtaking sunsets or crashing waves (okay, yes I do) I just need an unexpected savings every once in a while.

acceptance

2008-07-17T06:27:00.007-04:00

I am boring.

I am, really. And it's okay, I've accepted it. Recently.

There was a time, though, that I so badly wanted to be the go-to fun-loving, thrill-seeking, good-for-a-late-night laugh pal. But I've never been able to pull of inauthentic without looking, well, completely inauthentic. I can remember once as a kid wanting a different laugh, so I'd practice it in my room, when no one was home. I was young, but wise enough to know how silly and forced it sounded, so I moved on to something else, like flavored sugar that you'd suck off a candied dipstick.

Point is, I'm okay with my boringness and that jokes don't live up my sleeve and I have no desire to go anywhere after ten pm where beer is served out of plastic cups and bathroom floors smell (and look) like something that's been dead on the side of the road for a year. Even if just an unoriginal laugh.

I do like to spend my time being creative, active, and calm and among my family. That's when I'm happiest. Fortunately, it also seems to be when my husband is happiest (though he could probably do without the active part) and, so far, little one, too.

So, this past weekend, when we packed up the car and headed the six hours to our home-town, that's exactly how time was spent. We have family who let us stay in their beautiful lake home, reminiscent of ones you'd see in the pages of Coastal Living. Talk about authentic, there wasn't a thing in that house that wasn't (except maybe the LEGOs on hand for little one). From exposed wooden beams to early 20th century glass, to the wood that furnished it, it was an escape right in the middle of nature. No cell coverage, no internet...just the water, the trees, and the breeze.

We swam, we kayaked, we ate smores, and we fell asleep on the porch one rainy afternoon. What was remarkable about spending a weekend at a lake I grew up with, was watching my daughter experience it for the first time.

As I've said, I can know something as well as I know my own name and somehow, watching her experience it is getting to know it all over again as if I never knew it any other way.

::

I ran in my fifth 15K Utica Boilermaker on Sunday; my dad ran in his fourth! I ran my best time, but the results won't reflect it because there was a malfunction with the chip timing system.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the running world, there are two times that a runner receives:

The Gun Time--the time it took a runner to finish the race from the sound of the gun

The Chip Time--the time it took a runner to finish the race from the point he/she crossed the start line

The distinction is important because in big races, like the Boilermaker, it can take anywhere from a minute to fifteen minutes before a runner makes it to the start line after the gun fires. For instance, on Sunday, it took me three minutes to get to the start and it took my dad 12 minutes! So when Chip Timing malfunctions, the only record they have is gun time finish, which in my case tacked on an inaccurate three minutes and in my dad's case, an inaccurate 12 minutes! It not only throws off your time, but your place as well.

Now, I don't mean to complain, these things happen. I should be satisfied with the knowledge that I ran my best regardless of what the "official" results convey. And I am. I just can't help but be an "itty bitty bit" bummed, as Ava would say.

::

Go Slow

This time-compression thing happens at night. I fix dinner, we eat it, clean up dinner, play for a bit. Get ready for bed, go to bed. All within about two hours.

This leaves little room for my age-preventing, life-saving grooming routine. In other words, I was skipping the fancy skin-care regimen that would keep me looking young, and, I hate to admit it, the all-important flossing routine that would keep me alive.

So, I'm doubling up. While Ava plays in the tub, I kneel beside her and floss. She sings about it and I try not to laugh, but she makes it hard.

While she brushes her teeth after bath, I put on my Youthtopia--skin and eye cream.

Before she goes to bed, we both drink a glass of water, "together" as she says.

And while I read her stories before bed, Pete heats up my water for a cup of tea. I drink it while I tidy up any work items or make a list for the next day...or, just sit on the couch next to him and do nothing.

Then I brush my teeth and head straight to bed.

[Curbing the Urge to] Splurge

I got an adorable little notebook for my birthday that I've been keeping track of writing ideas in. On Monday, I reserved a page in the back to keep track of credit card spending. I know there are all kinds of great software out there that can slice my data in five hundred different ways...but I just want to see what how much I'm putting on the credit card, where, and when. Kind of like I do with my diet when I'm training or overeating.

It's worked to curb mindless eating; let's see if it's successful in curbing mindless swiping.

check it out

2008-07-15T07:45:00.003-04:00

Another first: I was asked to guest blog over on LobotoME.

If you're looking to waste a little bit of time today, you can read about a day in the life of moi over there and see how I spend mine ;)

More to come on our long weekend away, surrounded by nature--water, bald eagles, and fresh, fresh air.

not a thing

2008-07-08T14:29:00.003-04:00

I did not like college. I liked the idea of it, but once I got there, I wanted no part of it. As big and as bold and wide open as college was, I didn't feel like there was any room in it for me. But I went, I saw, I experienced, and I finished--in four years with a transfer from one state school to another. (I was damned if the experience I disliked, okay, hated, was going to make me miserable and poor.)

In fact, I spent so much time hating college, that I never left much room for thinking about what I liked. Yesterday though, ten years after I graduated the first time (that's right, I hated it so much I went back for a second time), it occurred to me what I liked.

I liked the day that didn't have a plan. The day when there was no place to be, nowhere to go, nothing to clean, not a thing to prepare. While college was busy in different ways, it seemed that there were more of those unfilled days than not--and there was always someone else to share nothing with--Julie across the quad or Laura next door, maybe Merry downstairs, someone. Nothing usually began by finding a sunny spot to sit and stretch. Conversation was light and unattached, and growing by the body. Two people quickly turned into three, into four, into five, into six and more. Time moved differently; it wasn't urgent, didn't run out. In my case, it stood still. It didn't move fast enough (to have THOSE days back).

So when I saw a group of college-agers in a sunny spot yesterday with their coffee and their water, some chewing on a blade of grass, others just picking it, I remembered all of a sudden what I liked about college. Not what I miss, but what I liked. I certainly don't want those days back, I love the ones I'm in too much. But watching those friends--some who would be friends forever and others just til summer's end--reminded me of how nothing feels, and how filling it up with laughter and love and blades of grass doesn't require a courtyard or a quad. It just requires someone to do it with and the time to do it.

::

Go Slow

I've been making time for 10-minutes of clarity every morning...and it's turning into hours of peace every day. I'm going to keep at it for the rest of the month and hopefully have all kinds of prosperity to report at its end.

Splurge, splurge, splurge

Ava and I are meeting my running partner who's turned great friend and her little one for some non-running nothing this afternoon.

Happy Fourth of July

2008-07-04T08:17:00.004-04:00

Break out the bomb pops and the sparklers. It's the fourth of July.

Here's the latest citizenship test. How well do you know our nation's history and the markers of its making?

If I Were a Tree...

2008-07-02T15:52:00.005-04:00

We took Ava to the B&O Railroad Museum on Saturday. Our good friend Courtney is the Executive Director; he and his wife Leslie have been great friends to us. It's an incredible museum that Courtney has done a remarkable job of renovating. You can read all about it here.

Ava L.O.V.E.D. the trains.She did not want to leave and we'd been an hour and a half by the time we did, in 90+ degree heat. We'll be going back soon. She told me she misses the Caboose.

::

I can't make it out yet, but a message is making its way to me.

It's July by the way. Summer's first full month. To me, July always feels like a fresh start more than January does. Time to revisit those goals and see how they're coming, what needs shifting, tossing, and a little bit of attention.

Back to the message.

In June my husband spent two weeks in a leadership class. It was an experience (I'm obviously inferring here) that seemed pointless while in it, but with distance has proved priceless.

For starters, while attending the class he learned he'd been selected to interview for a new position--one with, you guessed it, bigger leadership responsibilities. I'll spare the suspense and let you know that not only did he ace the interview, he got the job. The two weeks he spent reflecting on leadership styles he'd observed in the past and anticipating the style he would employ himself only helped. (Because, of course, he'd have gotten the job anyway. :)

Beyond professional enhancement though, this leadership class has done wonders for our communication as a married couple. I think Pete spent as much time analyzing his own personality type as he spent trying to figure out mine. :) We are completely OPPOSITE. I wasn't sure how to take his reaction to Myers-Briggs' validation of what we always suspected, "It'll be okay. The speaker today told us he and his wife are total opposites too and they managed to stay married for 35 years." He was unclear as to whether or not they were still married, which my personality type would've asked about but his took at face value.

Truthfully, though, understanding ourselves has helped us to understand each other. For instance, I learned that a slight acknowledgment from him is equivalent to a rooftop shout from me. I learned that when he comes home to sit in front of the TV, it's not because he's lazy it's because he's transitioning. (As I write this, I'm feeling like I've been schooled here). But seriously, over the past three weeks we've both made an effort to extend beyond our own comfort zone to spend a little bit of time in the other's.

Then, today, my mom called me with a thought completely out of the blue. I hadn't shared with her all of the personality analysis that Pete and I had been engaged in, either, by the way. Anyway, she thinks that engaged couples ought to go through activities like pitching tents together and putting up Christmas trees to train for marriage. Activities that companies and businesses pay a ton of money for their employees to do so they can work better together. Apparently, that's what she and my dad spent the afternoon doing and she was quite proud of how they came out the other side. Researcher me added another layer...actually, I was thinking of my parents while I said it, "and I wonder how their interaction with each other would change and evolve over the years...say from engagement, to third year, to eighth year, to fifteenth, and so on."

If divorce weren't something you declared and needed a lawyer to do, but instead was something you were eligible for each year on three specific occasions: putting up the Christmas tree, driving home from vacation, and pitching a tent in the dark, then my parents would've been eligible A LOT in the first 15 years, less for the next ten, and pretty much not at all at 35 years of marriage.

At any rate, as couples, as children, as friends, and as parents, we all have a lot to learn about each other, from each other, and with each other. While it gets darn frustrating at times, love wouldn't be love otherwise.

As I said, I'm not sure what the message is, but it's resonating love and learning and patience. I'll let you know as soon as the decryption is complete--but then again, maybe simple awareness is the message.

::

So are you dying to find out your personality type? Thanks to my husband's find, you can do it here, for free, and you don't even have to sign up for it.

Here's a peak at my personality type. I need to find the person who wrote this because I have a lot of questions. Like, how did they know? and...what do I do!?

::

I've been working on a personal essay for a week or so and when I read my profile today, I got chills up my spine at the points it raises, which are almost entirely included as actual experiences in my essay. God always finds a way to talk to us, even when we're listening-resistant.

Go Slow

I'm really trying to quiet my mind again. It's been a little cluttered with things that don't matter much and, as my profile points out, are related to my inability to be at complete peace with myself--there is always something I should be doing.

I've gotten away from my ten minute prayer and quiet time in the morning. It's a 2008 goal that I've neglected for about three months now, right about the time the clutter worked its way back in. This month, that's what I'm focused on. Ten minutes in the morning and getting to bed a little earlier at night.

Splurges

Oh my gosh. You know how much I loved Juno. Well, guess what? The fella who wrote and sang the opening song to that movie (Barry Louis Polisar) is performing tonight at the park I run at nearly every day. For free. For kids. Ava and I are packing a dinner, throwing a blanket in the car, and heading over for some dancin and dreamin. You can read more about him here.

flexibility within structure

2008-06-27T07:55:00.011-04:00

You've heard my two primary maureenisms by now:

Go Slow to Go Fast
Progress not Perfection

But there's a third (actually, there are probably fourths and fifths and sixths)--and it's one of the originals

Flexibility within Structure

I was student teaching when I came up with it. After my second lesson plan for teaching Julius Caesar to tenth graders, I decided my approach wasn't working for every kid. And it needed to. I liked the structure: 10-minute warm-up, reactivating what we knew so far; 5-minute preparation for the scene (or two) of the day; 20-minute scene interpretation; 10 minute reflection, what we now know or are still confused about.

So I kept the structure.

Then added some flexibility. For example, instead of using a written prompt for the warm-up, we used a verbal one. After we discussed what we already knew about the play (e.g. what already happened) then the kids synthesized what we discussed in a list to be used for an outline at the end of the unit. Instead of reenacting the entire scene, I'd isolate its crux and together, we'd modernize it. You get the idea.

I use this approach with my running and especially with my mothering and especially in my role as teacher to the little love I mother.

The structure remains the same every day: wake, eat, activity, lunch, nap, activity, dinner, quiet activity, bed (with a whole lot of "read" interspersed)

I've employed it with her as soon as my feet landed back on the ground after having her and I had a minute to sort out what just happened (the most wonderful thing in life happened: life) which was about when she was four weeks old.

The structure remains in fixed, but the activities, the menu's, the stories do not.

It's not rocket science, that's for sure. We all operate on our own flexibility within structures each day, but I think that sometimes the awareness of what "it" is helps the mind to relax a little bit.
What are your structures? What are your flexibilities? How do you operate?

::

I was reminded of this maureenism this week, as I was feeling a little scattered about this blog. Check back soon to hear more about it.

::

Going Slow to Go Fast

I'm up early early early every morning, either to work or to run or both. I love getting up early--I get a lot done. But it is very easy for "getting a lot done" to become a fixation. So much so that if I'm not getting something done, I feel unproductive and anxious. And that, I know, is ridiculous. So, I'm working on it.

Usually, I eat breakfast while I write email or think about the work-related tasks I need to get done that day. It's a total no-no, I know. Again, sometimes I feel like every minute needs to be productive and my sense of productivity becomes skewed. (Eating breakfast mindfully and having a minute to let the brain waves settle is, afterall, productive). So this morning, I didn't turn anything on. It was just me, my oatmeal, and some quiet, quiet air.

::

Splurge of the month

Husband paid the bills last night and whenever he pays the bills, there is a cloak of silence that falls heavy throughout the house. Don't get me wrong, it's totally self-imposed. I pretend I'm working on something when really, I'm zeroed in on his body language and his silence like it's keeping me alive.

I think about all the things I've bought this month that I probably could have done without and all the things that I could still return. Where does this guilt come from?

I must say, it's gotten way better since we've put the brakes on superfluous spending (which was never all that bad) and we've agreed to make the time to sit down together to pay those darn things. We both decided that my anxiety stems from my uninvolvement in the process.

So we're going to start making a date of it. A bottle of $10 wine and the bills. Could be a disaster, but I think it will be fun :) I'm counting on it.

In the meantime, no splurge for me!

The Randomness Continues

2008-06-20T06:40:00.009-04:00

Bare with me for one more post of scattered-ness.

::

Turns out my haircut was Wednesday. I had just sat in the chair for my trim when the stylist asked me, "So, what're we doing today?"

Without thinking, I replied, "Just a trim."

She starts snipping before settling into her line of little love questioning. (Honestly, what did we talk about before her?)

She barely got a word out when I said, "What do you think about that cut" as I pointed to another stylist down the line. She thought it would be "adorable."

Hmm...not exactly what I was looking for, but okay.

For those of you who haven't seen me in a while, I've been letting my hair grow long (for me). I've never let it get past that critical point (past the shoulders, almost down to the back) and I was determined I'd get there this time.

Because in my head, my hair looks like this.

But on my head, it looks like this.

So we cut it. And I LOVE it. No pictures yet, but it looks something like this, only way less colorful and way more streamlined.

::

This morning I saw a poll that said 60 percent of American's think the country is heading in the wrong direction, evidenced by rising gas prices, mortgage crises, and grocery bills.

Sigh.

I think it is heading in the wrong direction, evidenced by bigger cars, even bigger houses, and more more more mentality.

The abundance movement abounds. But I'm not sure what kind of abundance we're aiming for all the time. We're more grateful than we've ever been. Being grateful will get us more! I look around at fancy cars and big cars and even bigger houses and think, "Well yeah, duh! We ought to be grateful!"

I realize I sound cynical, and really, I'm all for the grateful movement--I'm not perfect at it, but I'm making progress at it. So today, I'm grateful that our great country has given my family choices and that we've been smart enough to make good ones. I'm grateful that our great country has given my family freedom that we've known when to exercise and when to resist.

Maybe it's headed in the wrong direction, I'm not astute enough on a worldly level to know these days. What I know on my small level is that I try to model manners for my daughter and say hello to strangers; water my plants during non-peak hours and cut my time in the shower; walk where I can and be efficient with driving when I can't; ask God for strength and courage each day He gives me; make my husband's lunch because I know how much he hates doing it. It all feels like the right direction to me.

I pray for people who do genuinely struggle in these times. People who can't pay the bills and who struggle to feed their family regardless of how hard they work. Those are the people who point me in the right direction--and I hope they're the ones who are getting polled.

::

There are some days when I get blindsided by motherhood. Like this morning. An early, chirpy, day-away-from-summer morning. Little love is still sleeping, husband is getting ready for work, and here I come bounding down the stairs to start some oatmeal. I round the corner and staring me square in the face are a toy baby, a stuffed tiger, and a big fluffy duck, sitting in a perfect row.

I took a look around at every drop of love she's left for me to see. Because sometimes, if I'm not looking for it, I look right over it. And me? I don't want to miss one thing.

::

Go Slow (formerly one small step) to Go Fast:

I watched the golf tournament last weekend. I don't golf, but I jumped on the band wagon and enjoyed every minute of it. At one point, Tiger was in a tough spot. The announcer said, "I want all the young people watching this to pay attention. Watch how he slows everything down, every move, and concentrates."

And he did. He slowed his breath, his walk, his movements, everything. He slowed everything down. It was something to see and it was one of the few times I was really glad a commentator commented. But I'm still wondering why he left old people out.

Go slow to go fast.

Splash-away

Today we're going to the pool and then we'll probably have a Popsicle.

Reminder Days

2008-06-16T15:10:00.008-04:00

I think it's time for a good old-fashioned brain-drain (though I think I'd prefer a brain-freeze because that would mean lots of mint chocolate chip ice cream, whose call from the freezer I am trying really hard to ignore at the moment).

I have a lot swirling around up there right now; while it might have something to do with the two cups of coffee, extra strong, I drank this afternoon, I think it also has to do with the fact that I am without my monthly planner. I didn't lose it, didn't burn it, didn't throw it away in a fit of revolt. It ran out and I have not replaced it.

I have become, in the last month, the person I vowed I would never become: the one who never writes down appointments and deadlines in one place, but rather writes them on the back of napkins and receipts or on chintzy little day minders I got for free with the purchase of five hallmark cards (which doesn't exactly make them free, I guess) and even on calendars I printed out myself.

So, that's the long winded explanation as to why I feel a little scattered these days (or at least the reason I'm telling myself). Among my scattered-ness:

1. Is it just me, or do Tiger Woods and his Caddy have EXACTLY the same set of teeth? (See quiz on side bar.)
2. Should I or should I not buy this smart spin. I've been agonizing for years.
3. When am I going to bite the bullet and learn to iron. Properly.
4. We must stain our deck. Enough is enough.
5. Do friends and family know how much I love them?
6. What am I going to fix for dinners this week?
7. Need to mail dad's father's day card before next year's father's day. (That's right, still not in the mail)
8. Schedule annual doc appointment
9. Find out when my hair appointment is, exactly

::

That's better.

::

Whenever Father's Day comes around, I can tell you exactly what my dad's response is to my on-cue, "Happy Father's Day, Dad"

Everyday is Father's Day.

And he means it.

But it's one of those inked-in reminder days. A reminder day to tell the men who are fathers to us, like fathers to us, fathers to our children, or like fathers to our children how much we appreciate who they are and the little and big things they do. Because no one can do "it" quite like they can: say nothing when nothing is all you need, say something when saying something is exactly what you need, take it in stride, take it on the chin, take in everything we mothers, wives, daughters, sisters have to give, good and bad, which can add up to quite a lot. And at times, might even contradict.

So thank you to all the men I love...the father to me, the father to my little love, the father to my big love.

::

One Small Step

Prayers in the morning, prayers in the night. Help me to live well and live with delight.

Splurge ahead

We're going on a date, we're going on a date, we're going on a date.

Inside the Lines

2008-06-09T14:22:00.014-04:00

Generally, I'm a "color inside the lines" (or run inside the lines) kind of gal. I wait patiently in church parking lots; I don't cut lines at the deli; I don't attempt to return impulse kitchen gadgets without the receipt; I wear matching socks unless I unknowingly mismatched.

But on occasion, I'm known to break a rule or two. Like eating breakfast for dinner and dessert before dinner. (Pretty wild, I know).

And I'm about to break another one. Like believing that summer doesn't start until June 21, which happens to be summer solstice and which also happens to be my husband's birthday.

Friends, solstice or not, summer is here (or maybe it's hell, but we'll pray it's just summer-come-early) and there is no denying it.

And in honor of its early arrival, please enjoy the tastiest cheat sheet I have yet to find. No more arguments with the big guy about which meat gets grilled on low, which on high, which for a long time, which for a short time. It's all right there.

Ahhhh.

::

Ava told me today that she didn't want to "go for a nap." Instead, she told me, "I just want to play. With my toys. Downstairs. Wanna come too, mommy?"

You bet I do darlin'. But you can also bet that if someone wanted to come over right now and shut the blinds, turn on the fan, read me stories about Sheep Out to Eat and sing me songs, I'd wanna do that, too.

::

Ran a great race on Saturday. It was H.O.T. (in case you can't tell by the duh look on my face) but I survived, inspired by all those survivors. And so didn't my dear dad.

::

One Small Step

Today I'm going to read my book for 15 minutes and not think once (okay, maybe just once) about the housework that needs to be done, the work that is on deadline, the stories that need to be written. Instead, I'm just going to go and read my book because we agree (don't we?) that it's summertime and reading is what you're supposed to do when it's summertime.

Splurge-smoothie

It's time again for my favorite tasty treat. You can get the recipe in my splurge section here.

Zoo Time

2008-06-04T15:23:00.003-04:00

On Saturday, we made our first trip to the zoo. As one father put it to his crying daughter, "You're at the zoo, watching elephants, a baby elephant, what more could you want?"

Our little one mostly loved it.

Except when it started thundering. Then she said, "That scares me."

Her daddy told her it was just baby elephant Sampson playing and falling down, or the monkeys swinging on the branches.

So when it thundered last night getting ready for bed, she said, "Uh oh, baby Sampson fell down"

some perspective

2008-06-04T06:06:00.005-04:00

If I were the weather, and you punched in my zip code to see what I was going to be like today, this is what you'd see:

Partly cloudy with a few showers sprinkled in. Almost like those days when you think it could rain, but you can't tell for sure if it's going to rain, but if it is going to rain you wish it just would and get on with it already.

That is kind of how I feel today.

Someone just tell me what to do so I can get on with it already.

::

And feeling that way doesn't feel good because I can't think of one thing (that really matters, anyway) that is unsettled in my life. But I am thinking of the woman whom I have never met but whose story I read regularly on caringbridge.org; a woman who my friend Melissa does know; a woman who today is making funeral arrangements for her twelve-year-old son who just lost his life to a brain tumor.

It makes your heart break to think of it. But when you read about the strength she describes her son as having at the end, his faith and courage to let go of life on earth, his only concern being for those on earth left to live without him, you feel like you have no business letting your heart break. Instead, you feel like your only business is to make your heart as whole and as large and as spread out as you can--for all to see and have and know.

::

So I am sitting quiet today and paying close attention to every face my little one makes. I am playing extra hard with that little love who says, "Mama, come play with me?", and I am not thinking one bad thought about our broken air conditioning and the 90+ degree weather that is on its way.

I will let myself feel a little unsure today; but tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll feel sure.

::

One Small Step (but hopefully they're fast ones)

I love to run, as most of you know by now. Here's what I'm gearing up for this spring/summer:

Survivor Harbor 7
Baltimore 10-miler
Utica Boilermaker (my first and favorite race)

::

Splurge Spring

I've been hoarding all the watermelon at the grocery stores. I just can't get enough of this "it's definitely summertime" treat.

A Little Dose of Ava

2008-05-29T07:06:00.005-04:00

Dose #1

We found a new playground. We found it a week before we used it, but it was raining when we found it so we tucked it away for another day, which happened to be this past Saturday.

On Friday night, the night before the Saturday we used the new playground, if you had asked Ava what she would be doing on Saturday morning, this is what you would've heard:

First, Ava wakes up. Then Ava, mommy, and daddy go to coffee shop (shebop) and have daddy's muffin. Then go potty.... and then (excitement is building that she absolutely cannot contain) go to new playground to go slidin and swingin'! (The finale is about ten spinning circles followed by one big not-quite-jumping-jack, but close).

So when you are at a new playground, how do you possibly decide what to do first? You don't decide; instead, you do everything for milliseconds at a time so that it feels like you're doing everything at the same time. Eventually, you land on the couple things you know you really love, and that you always knew you really loved (sliding and swinging) but you had to try out the new stuff too, just to be sure.

After a little bit, a little girl, about four, on a sparkly purple bike with pom-pom-like handle bars pulled up to the really big slide. She got her daddy's okay before getting off her bike and climbing the slide.

It didn't take long at all for Ava and the little girl to start following each other around; eventually there was hand holding and ant watching.

At one point, they were on the swings together. Once they got off, Ava turned square to her new little friend, grabbed her at the shoulders, looked her square in the eyes and said, with excitement she could barely contain, "Wanna go slidin'?"

Friendship.

Dose # 2

We were visiting with some friends and there was another little girl there, right about Ava's age. Ava was playing with a little foam bat that the little girl also wanted to play with. The little girl began to grab at it and her parents scolded her. As you can imagine, at two, she got pretty upset and didn't understand why she couldn't have the bat.

Without hardly any time passing, Ava walked over to the little girl and handed her the bat. Just like that. No words, no explanation, no trying to make her feel better, just doing what she knew would.

Compassion.

One Small Step

Putting all my folded clothes away. Today.

Splurge Thursday

Oh, I don't know. Maybe an ice-cream cone tonight?

A Spot on the Horizon

2008-05-26T06:50:00.001-04:00

It is not true to say that I dust this speech off each Memorial Day; the truth is, I tuck it nearby so that I can read it any day, sometimes every day. Six years ago my dad wrote and delivered this speech at our hometown Memorial Day services, the first after 9/11. I will admit my bias, but still, I think it is the best speech I have ever heard.

Memorial Day—May 27, 2002
Norwich, NY

J. Philip McGuire, guest speaker
Combat Medic, 2/502 101st Airborne
Vietnam—1969-1971

Good Morning Friends and Neighbors—

Here we are again. Come together on a day in May to remember, to
recall the images of men, mostly young men, who went away for that
flag flying over us; men who didn't come home.

If you're like me, and I suspect some of you are, memory plays tricks
and the film in our head is hazy—filtered through the lens of our own
lives, and the vision of events and people past form dreamlike and not
always real.

The men that I remember were young. They didn't talk politics or
causes and they weren't always fighting for the same reasons they were
sent… Mostly they talked about home, about girlfriends, family, the
job they left—and girls.

Young men of course are the best soldiers. I guess not only because
they are strong and vigorous but because the recklessness of youth
lends itself to soldiering. Often the youngest volunteer to walk
point. For the young, death is a spot on the horizon—it's there, but
it's not today's concern.

Many of these soldiers were months earlier playing high school
football and wearing stiff leather shoes to the prom…they did
heroic things—exposed themselves to enemy fire and threw themselves on
grenades.

The cruel confusion of war takes some in random chance. War shows no
favorites. Our best and brightest… hopeful men that today are forever
young—frozen in time, unfinished lives.

We recall the astonished look on the faces of the hurt and bleeding: a
look that says, "I'm only 19—I can't die."

The wounded and dying don't talk of the cause or the campaign. Most
ask to go home. They ask for mom—tell her I love her, that it's
okay...

But please don't leave me on this god-forsaken hill.

It has always been so. From the carnage at Gettysburg—the bloody
beaches of Normandy—the frozen Chosin Reservoir—to the steaming jungle
of the Ashau Valley.

Our best and brightest have marched into eternity with one request.
Please don't forget us.

On last September's bright blue day, horror came out of the sky and
our enemies cut down the innocent only to give names and faces to
heroes. Men and women challenged death in falling towers and doomed
airliners that others might be spared.

Abraham Lincoln observed that it's too great a task for us ordinary
people to memorialize these brave Americans. Lincoln noted their
sacrifice was too great, too magnificent, too noble for us, caught up
in our everyday lives, to honor in a meaningful way.

But do we daydream and imagine that if the opportunity presented we
too would do the heroic thing? Don't we think we'd storm the hijackers
on our doomed plane? Race into the collapsing skyscraper? We'd face
enemy fire to save a friend--- wouldn't we?

These things we ponder—we pray for courage. As the daydream fades we
find ourselves paying the same bills, worrying about our children, and
wondering how the man in the mirror got this old.

The job of honoring our fallen warriors might seem too great until we
remember them as ordinary people who did extraordinary things.

The truth for us is that we will probably never be thrust onto the
stage of great things.

Those everyday people who fell for us weren't thinking of great ideas
at the end—not of the cause, the campaign, or the issues.

They talked of home. And home is here. Home is
you and me. Home is where we live, work, love, and join the human
condition--the USA, where we pray for God's grace to make a place for
us at the end.

Here is where we honor our fallen. By doing things denied them when
they were cut down in the spring of their lives.

What can we do? First, let's imagine them as they might have become.
Maybe he's a mechanic who would fix our car; maybe he'd be driving
that truck or patrolling our streets, or planting a field of corn.

Then, let's do this: Let's do kind things in their name. Let's be good
citizens, let's volunteer and be optimistic. Let's encourage a young
person and visit an old one. Let's do ordinary things in a special
way.

We can do it for them and thank them for their sacrifice. So let's
meet here each year and remember them. Let's carve their names in
granite and visit their graves. Let's also carve their names in our
hearts and honor them by living our lives in a way that they might
have lived theirs.

Thank you.

Run, run, as fast as you can...

2008-05-22T06:34:00.009-04:00

It was overcast on Monday; not raining but-might-as-well-have- been kind of day. When Ava woke up I asked her if there was anything in particular she wanted to do that day, she answered, "I want a gingerbread man" as if she'd been waiting hours to say it.

I told her we didn't have any, what could we do? She suggested we make some, so, we did. (From a box, not from scratch).

After we cut them and made sure they had all their hands and feet, we put them in the oven where Ava gave them some words of encouragement. I can't remember exactly what she said, but it was something along the lines of (and in a really high pitched voice), "Hi gingerbread men, I'll see you in just a minute. Would you like a book? Yes? Okay. Here you go."

Hence, the books. I guess she figures they'd like to pass the time in the oven the way she likes to on the potty, reading.

::

A lot of times we'll be playing or reading and she'll say, "Just a minute. Ava will be right back. I have to do something."

Huh?

So, she'll head into another room, careful to notice if she's being followed, which she isn't. I'm not sure what she does (one of these days I will follow) but she comes back less than a minute later, ready to settle right back into what she was doing before "something" called. It's very funny.

::

Spent Tuesday in NYC at the National Stationary Show, in support of LobotoME and Bird Dog Press. Can you imagine it, being surrounded by paper, paper, paper? All kinds of beautiful paper in all kinds of textures and incredible designs? Sigh.

::

A Small Step

Today I am going to drink a lot of water.

Shoe Splurge

I bought a pair of shoes on Friday night's girls night out, but I think I'm going to return them.

E for Effort

2008-05-19T13:50:00.004-04:00

On Thursday and Friday I attended a conference sponsored by the US Department of Education. The conference was follow-up to a report that was just released by the National Math Panel, which was convened by the President to a) understand how the US can regain its competitive advantage in the math, science, and engineering fields and b) to provide recommendations on how to make math more accessible to everyone. That’s right, even you and me.

There was a lot that came out of the report, and by association the conference, much of which we already kind of know one way or another when it comes to education. In short: that the quality of a child’s teacher matters to the quality of that child's learning

But there were a couple of other things that came out of the report that I’m not sure we know:

That EVERYONE can do math (That's right, even you and me).
That we must stop making excuses for our mathematical limitations, especially as a way to accept the mathematical limitations of our child, student, neighbor, little sister, etcetera (that is, "I can't blame him for not doing well in math, I was never good at it either!").

I deduced one thing from those two things that could be applied to most aspects of life. To illustrate what I deduced, I am going to tell a story. A true story that actually took place about two weeks ago, before I even knew a math panel existed at all.

I was talking to a friend about high school teachers—ones we liked, loathed, maybe laughed at. Math teachers came up repeatedly as by and large good teachers, when my friend said, “I was good at math up until 9^th grade and after that I sucked at it.”

He was good. He was good enough to be in advanced classes in middle school through 10^th grade, at which point he’d met his requirements for a diploma and saw no reason whatsoever to continue down the path of mind numbing theorems and quadratic (quadratic sounds like something big and green that skulks in a sea and every now and then raises its fifteen heads out of the sea to slime and scum everything around it, doesn’t it?) equations, which he was naturally bad at.

I accepted his belief at face value: he just stopped being good at math and it was as black and as white as that.

Only after thinking about a couple of things I heard at this conference, I am not so sure that is true.

Because what I deduced is that natural ability will take you so far, like the 9^th grade, but then you have to kick in some effort to get the rest of the way (which, of course, will vary according to individual).

There are some things that come to me very naturally: like knowing when I have a really good cup of coffee in my grip (though not knowing what, exactly, makes it good), like seeing gaps in things (arguments, concepts, teeth) and flashes of how to fill them in, and, making up alternative endings in my head to movies with really bad ones.

But I’m going to be especially conscious of putting in a little extra effort to push beyond what comes naturally and see just where it can take me and my family (I’m thinking bigger than just adding a twist to our breakfast for dinner standby).

Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to go crazy with effort, just going be a little more conscious of it (and continue to shower my husband with respect because he is one of the few who pushed on with mathematical effort when natural ability ran out).

One Small Step

I'm going to start with trying really really hard to get birthday cards out on time and even sending random how are ya doing notes to friends and family once in a while.

Splurge, Soil, and Spray

We now have, finally, a respectable (though I wouldn’t quite call it manicured) flower garden in our front yard. Thanks to: Leslie W., Lowes, Frank’s Greenhouse, and, of course, day laborer Pete (husband). We bought, he dug, he planted, we sprayed. Everything. A lot. (Don’t forget, little love has mastered the righty tighty lefty loosey concept, which she applies regularly to the hose).

splashes and splurges

2008-05-13T05:31:00.003-04:00

We've had rain for the past 36 hours but I didn't even mind it. I got the laundry washed and folded (that's right, it's not put away) and caught up on my black sea of emails. I had tea parties with little love and out of the rain, we found ourselves some trains (our bookstore has a train display for little ones and Ava spent more than an hour playing with it and even then I had to prod her away).

::

LobotoME gave a sneak peak of some must-see products that are soon to be released. You must check them out.

::

I've decided that cup holders are to a car what storage space is to a house: they are easily overlooked when you're busy falling in love with with the ooh ahh elements but are quickly discovered when the honeymoon is over (or maybe not even started). Agree?

::

A small step

Yesterday little love was frustrated because she couldn't screw a top back on the bottle (mind you, she's JUST two). Her poppy taught her "lefty loosey, righty tighty" on vacation and she figured it out on the hose within three tries. Now she's moved onto bottles, which are a little more difficult because it requires some exaction on the line up. Anyway, when she gets frustrated she does this shaking thing with her hands--sound doesn't usually accompany it because she's too busy holding her breath while she does it--so I decided that it is not too early to teach that little one to breath. So all day yesterday we breathed in through our nose and then out through our mouth. I told her that every time she started to feel frustrated, that is what she should do instead.

So today, I'm going to take my own advice.

Splurge Session

I signed up for a writing workshop with the author of The Writer Mama. It starts in August and I can't wait!

The Measure of a Vacation

2008-05-11T14:20:00.010-04:00

Vacation is so good for you, but it can be oh so bad for you too.

I'll start with the bad and stick with the major (as opposed to the minor, like finding sand in places I didn't know existed for the next three months).

The Bad

Most who know me well know that I love breakfast (make the "o" extra long in love). I especially love eating breakfast out, like at one of those Formica counter-topped diners with big streaky windows and pictures of famous people who are not famous to me hanging crooked on the walls. Those places.

So when my husband asked me if I wanted to go to one of those places for breakfast this morning in honor of Mother's Day and I said "no" he studied my face like he did when we first fell in love. Not in the "you are the most perfect person in the world to me and I want to know everything there is to know about you" kind of way--but in the "I know everything about you already but you saying no to breakfast out makes me think I ought to pay a little more attention" kind of way.

It's not that deep though--he doesn't need to worry. I said no because we are ten hours back from a week long vacation that, sure, was filled with sand and sea salt, flat fast runs and fresh smells; but it was also filled with too much cheese and extra fries, a little nacho here and a little nacho there (which, adds up to lots of nachos period), and an ice cream cone (or two) on top (figuratively, of course).

Ta da, major bad number one:

When it comes to vacation. what is lost in stress can easily be gained in fat.

Applied: Just the thought of breakfast out after vacation makes me want to binge on water and muesli. (I don't really know what muesli is, but if it is how it sounds then I'm thinking grainy and earthy .)

The Good

Now for the good, which there is plenty of but it's not nearly as dramatic, so I'll keep it short:

1. I read two novels. I haven't read A novel in more than two years and I will say that even if I have to wipe out my 2008 goals to read two more, I just might do it. The two I read (and I selected them because I snagged them for $3 a piece in the overstock pile at the bookstore) included:

Harvesting the Heart, Jodi Picoult. A good hard story that had me shaking my head in disbelief (and disgust) on one page and feeling a bit of sympathy on the next (a wee bit). I didn't "relate" to most of the main character's decisions, but that is where I disagree with many on what makes books good: I don't have to relate, most of the time don't want to relate. Give me another experience, one that I haven't had or won't ever have and make me believe that someone else has.

Love Walked In, Marisa de los Santos. Okay, I picked this book up because of the price and because of the cover (I know, I know, two very shallow reasons). And it was good. I loved the tone, the style, and the tempo of this story but it had too many holes to make it into the great category (which, so far, is owned by Mark Haddon's Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time). Again, it gave me some experiences I've never had and most likely never will, but I wasn't satisfied with the character's preparedness for and response to those experiences (boy does that sound risk management-y).

Good number one: Vacation should be renamed Relax.

Applied: Relaxation--it's the purpose, it's the point, it's the pleasure. Reading is a pleasure and I'd forgotten just how much. Vacation helped me to remember and I'm going to try hard not to forget.

2. Little one had a smile on her face from the minute she woke up in the morning until the minute she fell to sleep (she might have even been smiling then, but it was dark and I couldn't see). I get peaceful at the ocean, but always peaceful and happy little one became even more so, if you can imagine it. I can't attribute who she is to anything or anyone in particular, but I do know that sunshine, Mother Nature's rhythm, and family at every turn enhanced the rays of her light.

Husband felt it too. He doesn't require much, never has. But when we were sitting at the beach he'd turn his head and look at me (I think he was looking at me, he has these fancy sunglasses that make it difficult to tell) and just smile and not say a word and then look back out at the water again, I knew he felt that everything he has is just the right amount. Not too much, not too little, just enough. That is satisfying.

Good number two:

Watching those you love love the moment they're in.

Applied: Whether on the beach or the backyard, we have a lot to learn from people who know how to love the moment they are in. It's just that vacation gives us that opportunity to see how life can be everyday when you put first the big things, like loving and being loved.

3. Vacation has meant the same place for the past 15 (or is it 16 years). It's something my parents started for us as kids and that we've all kept up as adults. Tradition. And while there are all kinds of new and exciting places to explore, sometimes all you want, all you need, is the one place that is familiar.

Good number three:

Protected time and space to spend with those you love.

Applied: We've been going on vacation to the same place (different houses though) for more than 15 years and we keep going back. We look forward to it together, we experience it together, we remember it together, and we miss it together.

::

A Small Step

Making more time to read

Splurge Sunday

I do feel like a hot drink from the coffee shop, but not coffee. So I'm going to get myself a tall decaf skim extra hot mocha. Six words seems like five too many where a drink is concerned, doesn't it?

A Few Updates

2008-04-28T05:50:00.006-04:00

It's been a full couple of weeks with lots of meetings associated with The Breakthrough Center, whose launch is a 2008 goal. I'm working on it with one of my clients and last week we convened people from across the country to come and provide us with feedback on the concept. It was a powerful exchange of ideas and experiences (more powerful than I could have imagined) and we're already putting together a 100-day implementation plan. The idea for the meeting was one of those "other me" exchanges--it would have been way easier not to have done the meeting, but easier and better don't often hang out. Now not only is the concept better but it's happening! The entire process has involved application of the following mantras, practices, approaches:

1. Going slow to go fast

2. Tending to the tedious

3. ...and to the stragglers

4. Writing it down

5. Saying it out loud

6. Taking small steps

...which I also wrote about here

And finally, being grateful, which little one's smile makes easy to do:

::

Other bits

We're getting ready to head to the beach this week for an extended stay. I don't think I'll have internet access so I'll be back mid-May.

::

One Small Step

Today I'm going to try and remember to drink a lot of water.

::

Splurge of the Month

More passes to my yoga class. Even though I've missed last week because of meetings and I'll miss the next two because of vacation, I'm ready to get back when I get back.

a very important date

2008-04-18T08:47:00.003-04:00

One Small Thing

Instead of getting up to run this morning, I stayed in bed a little longer and then stretched out yesterday's soreness.

Ahhh...

I did pretty well on my "hello mission" yesterday. It was actually fun and quite rewarding to see how much people appreciated the sincerity and concentration of my "hi". I think I'll give it a try today, too.

Splurge of the Day

A date with my daughter. No plans, no projects, to places to go. Just whatever strikes us "spring."

Spring and Small

2008-04-16T11:21:00.007-04:00

When I breathed in the air today, I smelled spring. I mean, I really smelled it. I've been explaining to Ava how there are four seasons--winter, spring, summer, and fall--and that we're finally getting a glimpse of spring. "Ava sees it" she said, "Ava sees spring." Then a little while later she told the lady at the coffee shop that there were "four sides--winter and spring and summer and uhhh.... fall."

We've also been talking a bit about geometry.

::

My husband is about the best "on top of things" person that I know when it comes to matters of finances and bill paying. I mean, I would NEVER think to keep tabs on the rate of our adjustable home equity loan--I would just pay it each month.

Thank goodness he does.

Turns out, with the falling interest rates, our adjustable home equity rate also fell--but that little drop didn't appear in our online statement.

He called the bank and got it straightened right out. They had an explanation and it turns that out we weren't losing money--but it's a great reminder to stay on top of things. Don't take for granted that banks or businesses are always on top of your interests, no matter how automated they are. No one wants to fall prey to an expensive oversight--and besides, there's a lot to learn about the world of finance by paying close attention to your own.

So there is another business idea I've come up with for my husband: on-top-of-it bill paying.

::

One Small Thing

There was an article yesterday (I just looked for it but now can't find it) about how we're not any happier as a society, just busier. I was thinking yesterday about how immersed in work-related things I've been lately--at the expense of non-work related things.

I also think that it can be overwhelming to try and make big changes to correct those practices--and we all know what a champion I am of small steps.

So, every day I'm going to decide on one small thing to do differently (and believe me, I am resisting the urge to create categories for these "one small things"). I just want to let it happen--there are NO RULES. I can even pick the same one small thing every day if I want.

So today's one small thing is to consciously say hello to everyone that I encounter.

::

Suit to Splurge

I have a big meeting on Tuesday and I really want to pick up a new suit for it...I can't really justify the expense with longevity--because meetings like these don't come around all that frequently--but I am justifying it with my hard work and the fact that its been several new moons since I've purchased a new suit. How's that?

I haven't picked it out yet--but I'll report if and when I do. Oh, and feel free to send along any suggestions!

A little BEHIND

2008-04-14T06:23:00.007-04:00

{I swear that I did not realize the appropriateness of this picture (to the title and the post) until AFTER I posted.}

Here are a few to do's that keep losing out to to must's (groceries, wash clothes, work, breathe):

Download pictures from little one's birthday party
Finish making the CDs for this little project I dreamed up in celebration of little one turning two (way more on this, I promise)
Fold and put away laundry
Clean out closet and rid it of all things wool and winter!
File

::

Friends of ours have 7 to 10 day to "getaway"...but they still haven't decided WHERE. They asked ME to ask YOU for suggestions...

So, if you could go anywhere in the WORLD for 7-10 days, where would you go?

leave a comment or email me at splashesandsplurges dot com

::

Send Me Your Splurges!

I'm still not spending money (at least not on anything with "ooh and aah" quality). So I really need you to send along what you've been indulging in lately--with time, money, or energy. PLEASE.

Dot coms and Detox

2008-04-09T07:03:00.016-04:00

I've always been a little bit behind where technology is concerned and that my husband is always a little bit ahead doesn't provide much incentive to change my sluggish ways.

And I don't know if the fact that I have FOUR email addresses makes me savvy or stupid--but I'll save that analysis for another day.

In my mind, however, they aren't really four separate email addresses (even though, according to my husband, they really are). That's because there is this function/application/protocol, POP (Post Office Protocol), which magically makes everything go to one account. It uses a lot of this stuff:

+OK POP3 server ready <1896.697170952@dbc.mtview.ca.us>
C:    APOP mrose c4c9334bac560ecc979e58001b3e22fb
S:    +OK mrose's maildrop has 2 messages (320 octets)

Which means absolutely NOTHING to me, but it looks a lot like what my husband is getting a Master Degree in (ugh, I know) from "The" Johns Hopkins University (okay, that's pretty cool).

The great thing is, those of us who only use %>: to make smiley faces at the end of our sentences or maybe Snoopy and Woodstock if we're really clever, don't need to know what it means or how to use it. People at google or hotmail or yahoo know for us. :)

I don't know if ignorance is bliss, but it sure is nice to not have to know everything (who am I kidding? OF COURSE we know everything, but you know what I mean).

So, of those four email addresses that I have, three of them go to one address. So see? I really only have two email addresses.

The fourth (does anyone use hotmail anymore?) was the first email address I EVER had. I "secured" it close to 10 years ago, or thereabouts, and it has retired from its cyber hey-days as the go-to account and now works exclusively in the "all things that require registration" sector--online purchases, newspaper access, magazine recipe access, daily doctor dictionary words. In other words, it is the email used for all things that are not authentically or specifically designed for moi.

The evolution of email has included the provision of (basically) unlimited storage space, which has not always been the case. And I take full advantage. Like my house, my closet, my drawers: if there's space, you can bet I know how to fill it up and then I know how to lament it until I (or in the case of the pantry, Pete) do something about it.

Well, my "all things that require registration" inbox was borderline hotline-able. It was holding (ready for this?) 3,741 UNREAD emails. I'm sure there is some advocacy group somewhere that could make a strong case for neglect, even gluttony. Swift and severe detoxification was in order if I was to avoid exile from email.

But where to start?

I don't know why it didn't occur to me sooner, but most emails now have a search function. So after like 8 pages of clicking on each individual message (or getting so fed up I just selected them all and prayed it wouldn't somehow haunt me when it was finally my turn in line at the department of motor vehicle --because it seems like everything I do has implications where that agency is concerned) I finally had the bright idea to type in the sender's name in the search line and see every email from them appear.

In most cases, I could just check "select all" and then click on delete.

After an hour of methodically moving down the line, I was left with just 150 READ emails in my inbox--most from the days when my hotmail account was my only account and my now husband and father of our daughter was my (only) high-school graduating boyfriend.

But now I've decided that those people who know a lot about that <: ref::! stuff, need to come up with a way for us to conveniently and one-clickly "unsubscribe" to those senders at the same time we're deleting the 500 emails from them we've never opened. Wouldn't THAT be fancy. ::

Mid-week Splurge

Still enjoying birthday leftovers--mostly cupcakes and cookies. I promise pictures and descriptions will come this week. There, I wrote it down (and I just said it out loud).

Two, To, and Too

2008-04-06T16:22:00.005-04:00

Today my little one turns two. Friends and family came yesterday to enjoy bubbles, balloons, and brunch.

I've always had a sensitivity to time's passage. Between the ages of eight and 29 I would cry on the eve of each birthday; mourning the start of a new year because I hadn't "done enough" in the old one. I don't know if it's coincidence or Divine design or maybe a little bit of both, but at the intersection of motherhood and age 30, I took a different turn: no more tears.

I had always thought I was just sensitive and a little too nostalgic. Both may be true, but I also discovered that my particular brand of sensitivity (with respect to time's passage) leans a bit more to the dwell side than to the thanks side.

I still spend plenty of time wishing for days back but I spend more time than I used to being grateful that I had them at all. So instead of feeling sad that my baby is less and less baby, I feel thankful more and more for each discovery; thankful that I intersected at motherhood those two years ago. As my little one has become her own person, I've become a different one, a better one, a happier one, a purposed one, a more grateful one. Together, I'd say we make a darn good two.

::

More on the birthday events to come--in words and in photos.

::

Squeeze a Splurge:

Champagne + Orange Juice= Why Don't I Do That More Often?

Rhythm

2008-04-01T13:46:00.004-04:00

For the first time ever in my life, I spelled rhythm right yesterday on the first try.

I think it's significant. As in, maybe I'll find mine. (Wink).

A medium-well splurge:

We picked up a couple of steaks on Sunday night and grilled them in the rain on Monday night. They were d-e-l-i-c-i-o-u-s.

from mind to matter

2008-03-31T06:37:00.003-04:00

Rules still rule. I've gotten emails about the ones you're thinking about--keep them coming. In the meantime, here's another one I apply:

If you're serious about it (a change, a try, a goal) write it down. If you're really serious, even determined, say it out loud. To someone else.

In many cases when I've set a goal or suggested an action out loud and to someone else (sometimes a room full of else's) it's on pure impulse. Even as the words are falling out of my mouth I'm thinking, "I can't believe I'm CREATING a commitment to something that did not exist until I opened my mouth." Why can't I just keep it between me and other me...

and have the choice to NOT do it?

Because other me knows me better sometimes: I probably won't do it. And while a little more work is always required, I often like the results a whole lot better.

Here are some examples of when I can distinctly remember thinking as I was speaking, "what on earth am I saying this for? This was not prompted! No one is asking me to do this! I am creating this for myself!"

So, are we going to run Baltimore (marathon)? Four months later, I did
I'm going to start my own business. Six months later, I did
I think we should convene a group to provide feedback on this model (the group was 50+ all across the country and the turnaround time was about two weeks--but it happened)
Let's go camping for the weekend! (I like warm beds and hot showers but I actually enjoyed this a whole lot more than I ever thought I would, even though it was years ago now)

These are just a couple of light examples, but I know that people employ this method in a wide range of scenarios hoping to change a behavior, a practice, or a belief (e.g. eating patterns, exercising, a golf swing).

So even though saying it out loud and the steps thereafter involve a little bit of discomfort, as I've said before, discomfort often precedes positive change (though like a disclaimer in the ads, amount and time may vary).

Splurge-berry

Fresh, sweet, and blue blueberries. Lots of them.

Stand by's

2008-03-28T07:43:00.004-04:00

Phew.

It's been a whirlwind of growing and singing, working and writing for work, cleaning and coloring. I've been especially busy with work-related things, which always spills over and onto pleasure-related things, like reading or writing (blog included) or stretching or silencing. You know, those things I do in the wee morning moments or the late afternoon ones, while little one sleeps.

There are a few things I forsake, but there are a few other things I protect. Daily. These are things I have found, mostly by mistake, to keep me calm and present. (As opposed to frenzied and sleepless). Oh, and they are things I do independently. There are many many other things/time/commitments that I protect related to the big man and the little one, but these are separate from that. They are, in no particular order:

Exercise. Running, yoga, walking--anything that gets my heart rate up and gets me moving
No television. Especially the news. I used to be a news junkie--it was on first thing when I woke up, all day if I was home, and blaring away while I fell asleep. Since having Ava, I never have the tv on (unless it's Sesame Street) and I'd much prefer Big Bird ("Bird-it" to Ava) than anything "on the hour" anymore
Prayer before I rise. Here's the prayer I recite, sometimes a dozen times a day, but always before I start my day. My dad shared it with me 11 years ago and it's a reminder that every day is a new start to be better
Breakfast, boring breakfast. Oatmeal with walnuts, a few craisins or blueberries, and a touch of brown sugar. YUM.
Coffee. I know the stuff out there about coffee and caffeine...but I only drink it for one (maybe two) reasons: when it's quiet and dark, I love the sound it makes as it fills up my cup and then how it feels when I hold it with both hands. I rarely finish it, sometimes only remembering to take a sip or two, but it signifies morning to me, and like the prayer, a new start.

::

As I mentioned last week, I've been thinking a lot about rules and even more about how to write about them. I think there is something to this idea, I just haven't come up with the right way to articulate or approach it. But I will. In the meantime, I'd love to hear about the rules that you apply, ones that you've invented over the years and still follow--even if they don't make sense anymore. I've been taking some inventory of my own, especially as I engage in the daily (enormous) task of deciding which rules are non-negotiable with Ava (like those that protect her from harm and others that involve politeness), and those that make no sense or have no purpose and probably need to just go away (like is not letting her stack her water on top of her milk a battle I really want to fight, even though she does it perfectly and has no interest in doing it when I don't react?).

I'll keep thinking and observing--but I'll leave you with one of my favorite rules that I invented almost five years ago, as I was getting ready to marry my husband, who is three years younger than me.

Here it is:

If your husband is younger than you and you take his name when you marry, his age comes with it.

Here it is applied:

I was 27 the morning I got married and by that afternoon, I was 24.

::

A Scrapin' Splurge:

I have been meaning to buy a tongue scraper for like five years now...and finally took the big $2.19 plunge. Now I just have to be better about flossing.

You can read more about the benefits of tongue scraping here.

a little more understanding

2008-03-21T06:55:00.003-04:00

I try to keep my promises, I really do. (In "A little understanding" I wrote that "tomorrow I will write about rules..."). But "tomorrow", which is now yesterday, we lost our power for about 24 hours and as you can see, I didn't write about anything.

So I'm a little behind on those things that require electricity (work, laundry, vacuuming, showering)--but I'm way caught up on those things that don't (reading, drawing, singing, even sleeping).

The "rules" post is coming.

::

Splurge

Tonight's full moon.

A little understanding

2008-03-19T07:51:00.006-04:00

A lot of my professional work involves helping people and organizations make decisions and then communicate them. I have found that people might not always like a decision, but they are more likely to respect it (maybe even support it) if the time is taken to help them understand why it was made and how.

Children are no different.

So I have taken great care to apply this principal with little one as well.

Don't confuse communication with negotiation, by the way. When it comes to matters of safety, civility, and humility, there is often little room for negotiating with little ones. And quite frankly, I think negotiation confuses them and complicates us. But there is lots of room for communication.

Here's an example of how communication is looking in our family (we're way more imperfect at it, by the way, than we are proficient, but we're working on it):

Scene: Me and little one in the car. I'm driving in always-busy traffic. She's strapped in her car seat, reading a book or looking out the window.

Little one: Mommy, hold you please? (which means, mommy, hold me please?)

Me (mommy): Little one, why can't I hold you right now?

Little one: It's dangerwous

Me: Why is it dangerous?

Little one: Because mommy's drivin

She keeps reading or maybe starts singing. I keep driving knowing there's absolutely nothing I'd rather be doing than holding her. It didn't take long for this conversation (which is a daily repeat) to emerge--just a time or two of explaining that I would love to hold her but that I'm driving and it would be very dangerous to do both.

It makes me think about all the ways I don't communicate like this with other people I love or care about. Starting from scratch with little one helps me to think about where I might take for granted the understanding of older ones.

::

Tomorrow I'm going to write about rules, which I've been giving a lot of thought to--their origin, their application, their purpose, their consequence, their relevance (or not). I find having it all straight in my head helps a great deal when you're creating conditions (and explanations) to support the development of a happy, healthy, and well-mannered little one.

::

Spackle n' Splurge

I've been hard boiling eggs for two straight days in anticipation of Thursday night's popcorn and PAAS. That's right...we'll fill up our water pails, roll up our sleeves, and discover all kinds of ways to color an egg (and everything around it).

Happy St. Patrick's Day

2008-03-17T20:58:00.005-04:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Ava celebrated her Irish lineage in head to toe green...

the pot of gold eluded us and we ate green eggs and ham in place of corned beef and cabbag-es
not a pint of Guinness nor a shot of whiskey passed through one of us
but we're lucky all three to have the other of us

O'splurge:

I'm going to bed immediately after I hit "publish post"--clean sheets, clean carpets, and cool, almost cold, air.

That is the best kind of splurge.

sunday times

2008-03-16T14:01:00.002-04:00

Today I am getting ready for the carpet cleaner.

That means cleaning out closet floors and underneath the beds.

Here's what I've found so far (aside from lots and lots of dust):

a single piece of paper dated 5/2/94 in which I contemplated high school graduation, the uncertainty of life ahead, and the anticipation of a senior trip with childhood friends (the sentiments are not all that different from those I've written as recently as two days ago)
pictures of me and Pete that are more than 12 years old (12 years!) with hair that's since grown and some that's not; smiles that deepened with a marriage, a home away from home, and a little miracle from God
half-knitted scarves and socks and mittens
my phone from freshman year at college
ties that I can remember seeing Pete in and thinking "Oh my gosh, he is sooooo well dressed"--and now think, "Oh my gosh, are we old enough to have lived through an era?...and exactly WHAT era was that?"

I'm afraid that I won't accomplish as much cleaning out as I had originally planned--but I sure am having lots of fun remembering the little things tucked away that are, afterall, life.

::

A great message from our Priest this morning, who reminded us as that even as the weight gets heavy, it is never so heavy that we can't endure. We are exactly where we are meant to be at this moment. God's plan for each of us promises peace, happiness, and discovery--but in His time, not ours.

::

I'm working on updates to my 2008 goals, thanks to a reminder from Jenny at LobotoME. I'll try to have my progress updated this week--and hopefully inspire you to gauge yours!

::

Easter Splurge:

Easter bread from my good friend Erin. She gave it to me after our run yesterday morning and by lunch time, it was gone. (I had a little help--visiting family and a certain little one).

what you find

2008-03-13T06:41:00.007-04:00

It is typical (though to a lesser extent now) for my mind to be in a million different places even though my body is in one place. That way of 'thinking' has probably short-changed me in a number of ways, the most obvious being clarity.

I've written about how I've been trying to just think about nothing for at least 10 minutes a day and I must say, clarity's crystal has not only emerged, but I've also become way more efficient at prepping for it. It used to take ten minutes (or more) before I could get to nothing. Now, it takes 10 seconds.

So yesterday, when I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, I thought about this:

After having Ava, I was well aware of the 'physical changes' pregnancy and childbirth produced. How could I not be WELL aware of them? And while I was also aware of every breath she took, every glance she stole, every sound she shrieked or sighed, that my life was better, my purpose more obvious, I never recognized this awareness for the spiritual, emotional, and internal growth that it is. Not really.

I spent countless hours trying to undo the physical changes (in progress)--but can't say that I've spent as much time trying to enrich, or grow, the internal ones. Maybe I'm too hard on myself...but regardless, there is a latent gift within the obvious gift of children: with the slightest bit of willingness (even if it is subconscious) they put you on the path to betterment. They ARE the path to betterment. When you finally see it as such, you're way further along than you think. And we have them, those little miracles, to thank.

***

Ava always sees things as though it is for the first time. She sees at a hundred different angles without the slightest shift of her body. So yesterday on a walk, I tried to do the same. I saw the buds on the trees and the birds playing tag. Saw the same power line and for the first time recognized the criss cross it made in the sky. But clarity isn't all advantage.

I also saw this:

Our gutters, which were clogged with leaves
Black grime on our siding where white used to be
Left over leaves wedged under our doormat
Bits of wrapper and trash thawing in the earth
Streaky windows
Unwieldy weeds

Do I need to go on?

So be warned, clarity doesn't always mean clean. :)

Splurgin:

Still doing so well in the spending and savings arena. But little ones grow and you have to keep up! So, I acted on PURE impulse (gasp) and bought her this (on sale and with an additional discount)--so it totaled what a pair of shorts and shirt at Target would have run ($18):

Daylight delight

2008-03-09T15:59:00.005-04:00

In November, when daylight savings started, I wrote about what I would do with my extra hour; since losing an hour makes it difficult to add anything new, here's what I'm going to do instead...

Normally, I am a morning runner. I get up and out the door while the stars are still out. But tonight in honor of extra long light, I'm going to meet up with my friend E and enjoy a run at day's other end. I like this idea so much, it just might become tradition.

::

Splurging:

With my favorite religious holiday, Easter, right around the corner, we've been splurging in little extras around the house that have more to do with giving than taking...

like giving thanks every night before we eat dinner.

It is a great way to slow down a bit after a busy day and look around the table or inside your heart for all the things about life you love.

And one more dinner scene:

still here

2008-03-03T18:47:00.003-05:00

I haven't gotten lost (though remind me to tell you about my directionally-challenged ways) or fallen off of the earth...I'm just taking a little break to catch up on some work.

One funny story...almost 23-month old little one knows her ABC's pretty well. As is the case for some of us (including me) her LMNO sounds like one long letter. Yesterday she was singing her ABC's and when she got to LMNO, she out-of-nowhere replaced it with ELMO. ....H,I,J,K ELMO P

I have to give it to her. It works!

Have a great week!

sticking to NOT splurging

2008-02-28T14:58:00.003-05:00

Read this blog post about breaking the "purge and splurge" cycle once and for all. While it addresses financial matters, it could easily be applied to other matters as well--diet, attitude, and so on.

I hope, what I demonstrate through this blog--at least some of the time--is that splurging doesn't have to involve dollars and cents. It doesn't even have to involve calories and consumption.

Splurging can be taking a little extra TIME to do something that you don't otherwise take the time to do, like:

Read
Exercise
Call a friend
Make a new one
Write a letter
Get cozy (Ava's favorite thing to do lately)
Bake cookies
Daydream
Write your life
Pray
Smile

Splurge of the Moment

Spending lots of time underneath things with the little one--like desks, tables, tunnels made out of blankets, sofa cushions, you name it, as long as it requires a flashlight.

still leaping

2008-02-26T20:46:00.002-05:00

Tonight I sent a sketch for a new journal product (I know, as if there aren't enough journals in the world) to this incredible designer.

This was a huge leap for me--so huge that it would've been way more comfortable to just stand still. But I know that if I did stand still, I would regret it.

Stay tuned.

::

Almost Splurge

I always make dinner during the week. Saturday night is our eat-someone-else's-food-in night. But tonight, Tuesday, I did not feel like cooking. I just could not muster up the creativity or energy required.

So Pete suggested take-out and I approved.

Except then I got this little voice in my head that says, "If you start eating out on Tuesday nights you might start eating out every night."

So, I rescinded approval and we ate soup.

The next leap will be that little voice, overboard.

little leaps

2008-02-25T18:58:00.003-05:00

I haven't said much about it lately, but I'm still doing yoga. I'm mentioning it now because it is relevant to one of today's little leaps.

I've gotten pretty comfortable in my yoga class. (Comfort, by the way, does not come close to conquer). Meaning, I am familiar with the poses and have a sense when I'm close to looking somewhat like I'm supposed to look and when I'm, well, not. There's one transition from pose to pose when you can either walk or jump your feet behind you (think squatting to push up). Well, I've been jumping for some time now, but never in a fluid motion because for me, trying to make something look fluid inevitably looks foolish.

Today, in one big exhale, I did it. I can't say that it looked fluid, but it felt fluid. It felt good.

Leap #1.

Leap #2 is something I've been wanting and meaning to do for some time: find and join a fiction writer's group. I had a little inspiration from a family member in Chicago who joined one and pointed me in a direction where I might find one in Baltimore. I found the email address yesterday and wrote the woman, Ally, today. (Of course, the class is full so I'm on a waiting list, but it's progress).

Leap #2

::

I'd love to hear some of the leaps you've taken, are taking, or are preparing to take.

::

Splurge-Award Goes To...

The spoonfuls of natural peanut butter and creamed honey concoction that I've worn a path from my desk to the fridge to eat for the last two days.

Leap of Faith

2008-02-24T06:16:00.008-05:00

Lately, I've been hearing or thinking about "leap of faith" A LOT. It occurred to me last night that we are also getting ready to experience something that only comes around every four years: leap year.

So I'm getting the message that a leap of some sort is in order.

Although I am much better at letting go of outcomes than I used to be, that is the area where I really need to focus my faith. To me, taking a leap of faith is not an excuse to abandon effort, but I have a difficult time knowing when effort starts to interfere with faith (you know, in attempt to possibly (?) control the outcome). If that makes sense.

Sometimes, leaps of faith are more concrete, other times more obscure. Their outcomes are never predictable--but God promises they will be purposeful.

For example, a couple of years ago I was offered a job shortly after I miscarried that would be a slight departure from my 'career trajectory' (whatever that is). I didn't have any reason to take the job, but I didn't have any reason not to take it either. I just felt like I needed something fresh and different. I prayed on it, I ran on it, I prayed on it a bit more and took it.

A month later, I learned I was pregnant again.

I obviously didn't know it at the time, but the leap I took in accepting that job wasn't about career enhancement, it was about miracle tending. In that new job, I had a boss who gave me the world when it came to maternity leave. I was able to stay home with Ava for the first four months of her life while still contributing to the work of the organization remotely. I am confident that the nature of my previous job would not have afforded me that kind of flexibility.

I returned to work for five months (with Fridays at home) before taking another leap of faith. I started my own business. My leap-of-faith employer is now my largest client.

Taking that job wasn't a departure on my 'career trajectory' whatsoever. It was a departure from what I thought was my career trajectory. Fortunately, someone else knew better--and fortunately I had the presence of faith to listen.

One of my 2008 goal categories is "Just Jump." There are some concrete leaps of faith that I must take; but for these remaining days in February and for the rest of this leap year, I'm going to put those leaps in motion and make room everyday for 'little leaps' --being mindful to not let effort interfere.

::

Obvious, concrete, obscure, or otherwise, a leap of faith is wrapped in acceptance that you are exactly where you are supposed to be--at any given second, minute, hour, or day.

::

Saturday Splurge

A glass of wine at 2 pm yesterday afternoon. Ahhh. Pete and I found a $10-$12 bottle that we really, really like. I might've splurged about it before, but I can't get over the quality for the price!

To bring the stars further into alignment, I just read the back of the bottle, "Named for St. Thomas Aquinas, a revolutionary scholar in the 13th century who used the laws of science to support his belief in the existence of the Almighty."

Old things New

2008-02-21T16:55:00.004-05:00

Last night Ava referred to me as "the mommy."

Then Pete reminded me of the Dinosaurs, a show that was on when we were growing up. The baby called his daddy, "not the momma."

Time and experience sure have a way of making old things new again. Even dinosaurs.

Song Splurge

I ordered a CD and it arrived today. Ava loves it, too. Listen to track #1, All I Want Is You." She can't get enough of the "sea song".

Sing a Song

2008-02-19T19:58:00.007-05:00

A certain little one I know has been putting everything to music--and requires that everyone around her do the same.

So, we sing about brushing our teeth, sitting on the potty, eating our oatmeal, and driving the car. Today she asked me to sing the "puter song" (that is, computer song) and a bit later requested the "slide song." Keep in mind that most of these songs are written on demand--and the lyrics and the tune change from the first cut to the 20th cut.

Still, it makes both of us laugh, even in the dead of February. Having felt a little under the weather myself lately, I'm convinced that this live-by-song has given me new perspective and new motivation--two things that my 22-month old seems to provide every other minute.

So, what are you waiting for? Get singing! Here's the little one, modeling live-by-song (note, you have to hit the play button on the screen, and then again down in the left hand corner of the square):

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The first song that we wrote was a couple of months ago but haven't sung it in sometime. It's called "the boys" song, after the four brothers (ages 5-12) who live across the street. Ava just adores them and they're pretty sweet on her too.

After dinner but before bath time tonight, she broke out in "the boys" song. It's a little on the long side, but well worth the wait.

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LobotoME is sponsoring a super-sized giveaway in honor of our mutual favorite movie of late, Juno. Get over to her blog and leave a message for a chance to win!

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Happy Happy Birthday to my little brother, Mike and our friend Andy!

Splurge-story

Still no purchases to report (but I'd be THRILLED to post your splurges). I didn't end up making brownies tonight, so I'm going to cheat and count that one for tonight's splurge, too.

Sorts and Sights

2008-02-18T20:38:00.008-05:00

Just in case you were looking for something to do on a Monday afternoon...I've got just the thing.

Pete didn't have to work today in honor of President's Day. So while Ava laid down her sweet head for a nap this afternoon, I hit the computer to work and he hit the pantry to organize.

I know, I know, I know: unusual, incredible, fortunate, blessed, unheard of, lucky, and on and on. I know--and believe me, I try to make sure that I convey "I know" every day (okay, every other day).

I wish I had known what he was up to, because I would've taken a "before" picture, which would've been a little scary (not a lot scary, just a little). I did take an after for you to see.

Here's what he did:

1. Took everything out of the pantry

2. Categorized and inventoried the items and listed every single one according to category (see categories and sample items at link)

3. Discarded things that expired (or that we would just never use)

4. Put them back into the pantry according to category

He said that tonight he's going to make labels so that I always know where things go.

(A sweet gesture on the surface, but what he really means is, "so that this four-hour effort isn't a lost effort by next week).

This kind of endeavor (and trust me, I am NOT complaining) doesn't come without some well-earned capital. And he isn't wasting any time spending it. Some of the comments that I've already heard (a mere one hour since he finished):

You aren't to buy one more tea until the box of 60 is whittled down to four.

Are you just curious to see how many different bottles of vinegar you can find and fit into a cupboard or do you really think you'll use them?

It's okay though, I'll take it. Having a fresh, clean, and organized pantry feels a little like having a brand new wardrobe (funny how your expectations and simple pleasures change over the years). With all of my "goods" categorized, dinner planning and preparation will be much more efficient--and economical!

I told him I was going to add his skills as a new "service" under my business. So, any takers?

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Some pictures of the little one...who needs no organization, whatsoever:

Brownie-splurge:

Among the newfound items was a box of Betty Crocker's brownie mix. The chewy kind. Since it expires this month, I figured I'd better get busy!

Blogger

2008-02-17T13:43:00.002-05:00

If you're anything like me, technology and all that it affords is just one big black hole: you're not sure what goes into it and you have know idea what can come out of it.

Well, I am here to tell you that if you are at all interested in tinkering around in blog land, it's seriously simple. Google (big surprise) makes it very easy to set up and maintain a blog. Just visit www.blogger.com and follow the ultra-intuitive prompts.

You can keep it private or you can share it with the world. I had planned to keep mine private...

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Weekend Splurging

Lots of splurges to report:

1. A GREAT movie on Friday night. I mean TERRIFIC. If you don't know what it's about, don't find out (I had no idea). Just go.

2. Mexican food afterwards.

3. A new 8-inch skillet with my 20 percent off coupon to Bed, Bath, and Beyond

4. A carrot raisin muffin for breakfast from our new coffee shop

5. A swim at the pool later today with the little one and the big guy

A February Friday

2008-02-15T13:35:00.003-05:00

Today Ava and I celebrated her friend Jacob's 2nd birthday at Port Discovery in Baltimore. She didn't even want a story at nap time, just her bed and her blanket.

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I'm not sure where she picked this up, but lately she's been adding "ey's" on to her words, "foodey," "housey," "milkey."

Strangey.

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Does February feel like the longest shortest month to anyone else? Time sure doesn't need any help moving along (and trust me, I'd slow it down if I could) but February seems to be dawdling this year. To spice it up a bit, I jumped at the invite to meet up with some girlfriends for a movie tonight. At the movies. Normally, I look forward to Friday nights with Pete and Ava (doing pretty much the same thing we do Monday through Thursday night, but with that, "It's Friday night" feeling). But I think this little night out will be good for all of us.

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Splurge-not:

I am strictly adhering to my no spending policy. I have only been to the grocery store once this week (I LOVE the grocery store) and I haven't tempted myself with one "oooh this book looks so good!" this week. Pete and I have had a weekly cash allowance since we've been married ($60/week) and so instead of the special coffees and little shirts for Ava, I've been using it to pay for things that I would normally justify as "chargeable" expenses: parking, extra groceries, coffee beans, etc...plus adding more to the poor box at church. So far, so good! And who would've guessed how great it would feel to have a LOW credit card bill at the end of the month and being giving more to people who probably need it, well, more!

Real Talent

2008-02-14T20:30:00.001-05:00

Oh my gosh.

If you want to laugh (hard) you must read my incredibly talented brother's column in tonight's paper.

Happy Valentine's Day

2008-02-12T14:55:00.002-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day to you!

And Happy Belated birthday to my friends Leah (2/6), Kristin (2/12)

We're playing toss and catch with some illness in our house, hope it's not the case where you are!

I'll be back in action soon. Keep checking back!

simply cozy

2008-02-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

The doctor told me I had contracted the "flu's cousin" last week. So I was feeling down and a bit uninspired (my excuse for limited blog posts). Fortunately, Pete was spared and Ava seems to have walked away with congestion only. I say "only" but I'm sure she'd have a whole lot more to say about it seeing how a stuffy nose significantly complicates the thumb sucking process.

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Our local television station is airing a series on bed and breakfasts. I've never stayed at one, but I can't stop daydreaming about the one they profiled this morning, Pleasant Springs Farm Bed & Breakfast. Maybe Peg (the innkeeper) will let us move in.

I am just as attracted by the homemade breakfast made from Peg's chicken's eggs and the peach cobbler from her orchard's peaches (and yarn spun from her sheeps' wool!) as I am by her. In her short 2-minute interview on tv, she exhibited the kindness and peace of a cozy April morning.

I would sound cavalier and shallow to say, "I want to open a bed and breakfast"--understanding that it requires more skill, work, and talent than I have to muster. But I think what it is that I want, after thinking about this bed and breakfast all morning, is the simplicity it inspires.

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Splurge

Pete and Ava tackled the laundry and played some basketball while I slipped out to the bookstore. Not to read or to buy or to browse, but to write.

Oh, and I did splurge on some new watercolors for Ava. We should be busy at that today.

Little Splurges...

2008-02-06T09:08:00.001-05:00

This article claims that "little splurges" (like the ones I indulge in and then write about every day) are the killers of our savings and debt-free efforts.

They follow it up with this "talk back" segment, asking people post their guilty splurges. And they do...18 pages worth!

Splurge of the Day

Are you kidding? After reading about how my splurges are compromising my ability to save for Ava's education, I am breaking up with splurging (for today). Besides, there are 18 pages of other people's splurges to read about...I'm sure they're much more interesting than what I'm buying at the grocery store, for crying out loud.

A New Candidate

2008-02-05T18:02:00.001-05:00

My parents called today to see how we were doing. They live in New York and were getting ready to go vote in the primary election. They asked Ava who she was going to vote for and without hesitation she replied, "Santa Claus."

He'd be my pick, too.

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Super Splurge Tuesday

I picked up some Mint Hot Chocolate at Trader Joe's. I'm not feeling real well still, so I don't know that I'll splurge on it tonight, but I am comforted to know that I could if I wanted to.

A lot is in a name!

2008-02-04T06:31:00.000-05:00

The stories that some of you have sent me (okay, my dad and my sister) regarding the history of your name, the application of it, the meaning of it...all demonstrate that there is so much more to a name than what it brings up on spell check... KEEP SENDING THEM! Or at least write down what you do know for your children, your someday children, grandchildren, friends, loves, whomever.

Just write it down.

(and send it along if you want to share it...and indicate if you'd rather I not publish it.)

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Here's the story of Ava France's name. We thought she was going to be a boy. Were convinced. So after I delivered her and the doctor announced she was a girl we had a little scrambling to do. We had discussed the names Julia and Ava at different points...but she felt immediately like an Ava and that's what we called her--without any discussion.

A couple of days after I was home from the hospital, I was reading an email from an old professor of mine (my favorite). Pete was in the kitchen doing something, dishes maybe, and listening to the Beatles. In his email, my professor was remarking on the name we had chosen and wrote, "Ava's a beautiful name--makes me think of birds, flight, spirit..." I read that line (I'm not kidding) at exactly the minute the "Free as a Bird" came through the speakers. It was a very distinct moment that I will not forget.

Ava definitely suits Ava if you think of her name the way my professor did. But if you want to know the truth, it's exactly what she provides for us, everyday.

Oh, and Frances is a family name on both sides: my grandmother's and mother's middle name; my grandfather's first name (though with an "i"); Pete's grandmother's sister's name.

So, in addition to Ava, we also call her, "Franny, Fanny, and Francey pants."

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I'm experiencing my first ever sinus cold and it isn't pleasant. I have newfound empathy for those who experience them regularly, which is a miserable thought. Nothing this uncomfortable should be regular.

I took Sudafed "nighttime", and while it helped to clear my head from sinus stuff, it made it race with other stuff.

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Super-Splurge-Sunday:

What a game! Yippeee. When I think of a Giants fan, I think of my husband Pete as a little boy, all decked out in his blue "56" Lawrence Taylor shirt and matching white football pants. I couldn't find the picture to enhance the visual of that image, but I'll keep looking.

Our friends hosted a kid-friendly superbowl party that included everything from macaroni and cheese, chili and cornbread, nachos and sour cream, and peanut butter chocolate bars. Splurges splurges everywhere!

What's In A Name

2008-02-01T07:25:00.001-05:00

An encounter at the gym this morning as I was leaving had me thinking about my name (Maureen) all the way home. A name, by the way, I happen to like (and prefer to the names my parents WERE considering).

Over the years I have been surprised by the number of people who know my name when they see me. People who I swear I have never seen before. This morning, however, it occurred to me (finally) that they didn't know me either because they weren't saying, "Hi Maureen" they were saying, "Good morning." But when you're unsuspecting, not lip reading, and routinely going about your business, the two sound an awful lot alike.

Another thing about my name that I can't believe I am about to admit here...spell check always identifies it as incorrectly spelled. Do you know what the correction is?

Manure.

Have a good day. And make sure to see the new poll. Do you like your name?

Splurge:

Ava and I are going to stop over to the mall so that I can get some facial toner. (When I stopped in to pick up some lotion last week, the girl at the counter had a fit when I told her I didn't use toner. Apparently, it's like one of the most important things you can do for your skin. Funny though, the reason why I'm going back this week is because I had to save up enough money after my trip there last week when I nearly spent my life's savings on five other things that she said were the most important things you can do for your skin.) Any way, we're going to pick up facial toner and then ride the carousel. Does that sound like the perfect start to a weekend or what?

Nothing in particular

2008-01-31T13:40:00.001-05:00

I'm just back from a couple of days in Nashville, Tennessee for business. I'd never been before, but I can tell you I will definitely go back.

Usually when I am away for a couple of days and my security blanket of a routine gets disrupted, I come back all jumbled up inside. My heart races like I've had too much caffeine and neither my brain nor my body can sit still long enough to sort it out.

The remedy? Writing it down. So, in no particular order, I'll make room in my brain by taking up space in this blog. Here's the nothing-in-particular:

I broke down at the airport and bought the splurge I so proudly resisted last week. But I'm glad I did. I am still thinking a lot about this story and I hope that when it comes together for me, I can share with you what it did for me.

I read the newspaper cover to cover in the lounge of my hotel yesterday morning--and inside of it was an article about this software that Dominoes Pizza has developed for people to track the status of their pizza. Online. Huh? Talk about creating a solution to a problem that doesn't exist! (Which I, by the way, am expert at doing).

I read the paper in the lounge of the hotel because I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get anywhere else. The hotel was something like 58 acres with tunnels and overpasses for travel. I tried to find a map of the place for you, but they probably don't make it available until they've already got you inside.

I did manage to find the health club (though it took me about 20 minutes) and bored myself to tears on the treadmill watching the perfectly still pool that was directly down below.

I disrupted the perfectly still pool and swam about 10 laps (though I think it was eight, how on earth do you keep track of laps? I nearly broke my hand (again) trying to figure it out because apparently I can't think and swim straight at the same time). Swimming is a HARD thing to do.

Then, I made my way outside in the 30 degree air and soaked myself in the hot tub. It was still dark but that moon sure was bright. It occurred to me that I had NEVER sat in an outdoor hot tub before. There's nothing like realizing you're doing something new and different while you're doing it.

I bought Ava the most adorable pair of cowgirl boots. Earl (I'm not kidding, that was his name) at Boot Country on Broadway sold me a pair that are three sizes too big--but I couldn't resist. So she puts them on and just stands there. It's hysterical.

I learned something about leadership on the plane ride there:

It was a turbulent ride and they announced that it would be turbulent as soon as we boarded. Well, three minutes after we took off, I had to pee. (By the way, how do you not have to pee and then all of a sudden have to pee with "holding it" absolutely NOT an option?) So, I kept waiting and waiting and waiting for that stupid overhead sign to go off. After 25 minutes and "I can't switch to one more position without completely embarrassing myself and mortifying the guy next to me", I unbuckled my belt and walked to the front of the plane. I told the attendants (still buckled at their "station") that I couldn't wait. They told me to "just be careful."

I decided in the lavatory that I would walk back to my seat with confidence. (As opposed to walking back as someone who had just announced to the entire plane that she had to pee so badly she was willing to risk her life by getting up on a turbulent plane while everyone else waited dutifully for the sign to go off.) No, I wouldn't show the least bit of embarrassment. I would walk tall, look straight ahead, maybe even smiling at people as I passed, like I was the most natural person in the world doing the most natural thing in the world. Like I had just accepted a fashion award or something.

As soon as I made it back to my seat, five people (maybe six) got up from their seats to pee too. I feel like I made a difference for those five (maybe six) people that day. That kind of experience probably won't make it into a Jack Welch book on leadership or the follow up to Jim Collins' "Good to Great"--but I think there was an element of leadership (okay, and desperation) in my decision to break the rules and pee that day.

I felt light-hearted and light-weighted. I attribute it to NO COMPUTER. Seriously, it felt really good to disappear from cyberspace for a while. You should definitely have a day or two of detoxification...even if it means avoiding "Splashes and Splurges" for a while. Use the time to write a letter to an old friend, read a book, or get out for a walk. Really.

Well, that's enough for now. I need to move on to some other things before Ava wakes from her nap, in this particular order:

1. Clean up lunch dishes
2. Wipe the counters
3. Put clothes away
4. Finish editing a report
5. Send out some work emails
6. Draft an outline of a paper
7. Write two pages in my book
8. Send my journal sketch to Bird Dog Press

Okay, I just read the list. I'm not so straightened out that I can pull all of that off in an hour...wanna take bets on how much I can pull off?

Popcorn Splurge:

Tonight is the season premier of Lost. So, it's TV and this buttery salt and pepper popcorn.

sticks and stones

2008-01-28T19:43:00.000-05:00

Something about my recent sneaker experience triggered the recollection of a recent Runner's World article. I combed through my last three issues in search of it...and found it (electronically too).

While I am not convinced that my sneaker syndrome could be remedied by a lacing technique (too short is too short), I do think that this article provides what should be an obvious solution (or at least attempt) for foot discomfort...but if you're like me, it hadn't ever "crossed" your mind!

Today's splurge:

I have really tight muscles, particularly my quadriceps. I've been looking at "The Stick: A Toothbrush for Muscles" for sometime...and bought it today using a $10 gift card I received for joining the new sneaker store. I can't wait to go sit on the couch and use it!

A perfect pair

2008-01-27T18:09:00.000-05:00

I just love this picture and I'm not even sure what to say about it, so I'll just say nothing and let you enjoy it too.

So not a splurge:

I spent an hour (and tortured my husband and daughter by making them spend it too) in a just-opened sneaker store Friday night. In search of the perfect pair of running shoes (because I'm so convinced that they remain elusive despite the never-had-a-problem with these before).

So, I underwent all kinds of assessments (interview, walk analysis, and even a barefoot run on the treadmill) and what they came up with (same brand I used, different style) they didn't have in my size (of course). So they brought out a men's shoe in the equivalent size. Tired and out of time, I took it.

So anxious was I to try out the new perfect pair of shoes, I geared up for a long treadmill run the next morning...only a couple miles in to realize that my perfect pair were so... unperfect. Too short and way too wide, I had a pain in my right foot, calf, knee and hip the whole day long.

Fortunately they have a 60-day perfect fit guarantee, which means I can return them no questions asked. The only question for me is, do I even try a size up--or do I just give it up. And stick with what I know works while the "possibly-perfect pair" continue to elude me.

Measuring Progress

2008-01-24T14:21:00.000-05:00

There are all sorts of ways to measure progress. In fact, figuring out the best way is one of the basic ways I help people, organizations, and businesses in my professional life.

But in my personal life, this is how we're measuring progress these days:

1. How much further we have to grow before we can reach the counter top

2. How big our wrist has grown today compared to yesterday

3. The height of a cabinet...

and lastly, some flexibility progress for you:

Today at the gym, before my yoga class I had to use the restroom. One of the first things I do upon entering the restroom is to check the toilet paper situation:

a. to make sure there is some

b. to make sure that it isn't a new roll (because there are few things more frustrating--and inconvenient-- than trying to find the start of the first square of cheap toilet paper)

Before I started taking yoga, I had to bend my knees to look up into the holder. BUT TODAY I could actually bend from my hips (without bending my knees) to look up into the holder!

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I came across this little strategy if you're interested in some "progress psychology"

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Thursday's Splurge-day:

A piece of lemon pound cake that wasn't nearly as good as good friend Melissa's, but it was good.

Food, Food, Goose!

2008-01-22T14:33:00.000-05:00

(Reading the title, can you tell what I've been playing a lot of lately?)

I'm going to indulge in things food tonight.

First, an article in my recent Runner's World magazine gives some short and "sweet" tips for eating good-for-you dark chocolate.

Second, I've been making all kinds of things with wonder food quinoa (pronounced keen-wah). I especially like this recipe--but adding a little more gruyere cheese than is specified AND making sure you don't overcook the rice on the stovetop (err on the side of watery than done) are two well-worth-it lessons learned. Oh, and be sure to salt and pepper to taste.

Want more? Read on.

Finally, I had a trivia inquiry from a reader recently, wondering if anyone had any idea on what the shell of a cashew looked like... made me think that I'd never seen one. So, if you have any ideas, please send along!

Splurge-mint:

I bought a package of Peppermint Patties and put them in the freezer. Once I finish up here, I'm going to have a cup of tea with a side of pattie....

Faces

2008-01-21T13:29:00.000-05:00

Ava likes to imitate faces and she calls this one her "Cesar face" (as in Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer)

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And we took this picture all bundled up on Sunday morning.

Splurge-resist:

I spent a lot of time at the bookstore this weekend getting some work done. I was surrounded by books glossy and matte, bound and spiraled. I picked them up and put them done, some three times or more.

But I walked out of that bookstore empty-handed.

I resisted the urge to splurge.

mystery solved

2008-01-19T18:19:00.001-05:00

I can check off January's "do something new and different twice a month", thanks to my “new and different” this morning...

When I was a kid, the women’s health club (which was really just a fancy locker room with a tanning bed, a sauna, a telephone and a tv, private showers, and bathroom doors that actually locked) at the YMCA was a great big mystery—from how to get there to what was in there.

The back stairwells, seemingly secret-passage racketball courts, and hidden-in-the-wall weight rooms that surrounded and protected this secret locker room made it all the more, well, secret.

If you read Harry Potter, this locker room was like Platform 9 ¾ on the Hogwarts Express: with a little luck and a lot of magic, it would appear out of nowhere to a fortunate few.

On Sunday afternoons, a little girl could legally get into the locker room provided these two requirements were met:

Her mom paid the extra dues to be a member of the women’s health club; and
Her mom felt she behaved well enough during the week to warrant a family-day swim followed by a sauna and a shower in the WOMEN’S HEALTH CLUB….

My mom met requirement number one; I tried hard to meet requirement number two because WHAT A TREAT IT WAS.

And this morning, probably 15, maybe even 20 (yikes!) years since my last sauna sit, I did it again.

Oh my gosh. Go find yourself one. NOW.

Ava directed me, under no uncertain terms, of the following, “Mommy, big girl diapers, get ‘em, wear ‘em”

Now that I’m writing it, I think she meant her. I hope she meant her.

Weekend SPLURGE:

TWO glasses of wine and duck fat frites (translation: fries fried in duck fat) on a DATE with Pete!

Start Somewhere

2008-01-16T14:19:00.000-05:00

Sometimes procrastination isn't really procrastination at all.

Sometimes it's just giving other possibilities a chance to rise to the surface and others (not meant to be) the time to fall away...because sometimes, procrastination is mistaken for resilience or intuitive resistance: resisting instant gratification in anticipation of the longer-lasting, maybe even ever-lasting, kind.

But sometimes, procrastination is just procrastination. And while this article won't do much to help you discern the difference between procrastination and intuition, it will give a few good tips for addressing the former.

So make up your mind to make it okay. Then just start somewhere.

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Speaking of starting somewhere, one of my favorite Ava stories of late:

When she starts counting--whether stairs, or toes, or till she can "come find me", she always starts with four. "Four, five, six," she says. And when you ask her what the title of her book, "One, Two, Three" is called, she'll tell you, "Four, Five, Six."

I haven't corrected her and don't know that I will...because it's an every hour reminder to me to just start somewhere.

Mid-week Splurge:

Homemade cinnamon bread from my mom-in-law. Yum.

Hip and Tranquil

2008-01-15T07:17:00.000-05:00

I was inspired to sign up for the yoga seminar during one of my "10-minutes of quiet" mornings. I had been going back and forth about whether or not to attend and the direction I got was, "Attend!"

So I was really looking forward to it despite the fact that it would interrupt my Saturday morning coffee shop routine with Pete and Ava. But the point was "new and different" so I just made up my mind to make it okay.

I drove up slowly to the place and kept on driving slowly past it. Like three times. I was intimidated by all the "yogis" passing by with their pretty mats and swirly paraphernalia and here I was with a borrowed mat, running pants, and a couple of diapers I'd forgotten to remove from my gym bag.

The GPS that we got for Christmas kept saying, "arriving at Maureen's seminar" and when I kept driving by it would say, "recalculating...turn right to arrive at Maureen's seminar"...and so it went for three more rounds.

Third time (it's a charm, right?) I parked the car and went in. Most everyone was so normal- nice. There were about 30 woman, ranging in age from early 20's to mid- to late-50's.

I didn't have any expectations. All I knew was this: I liked my comfort zone, I was good at strength poses, not good at flexibility ones, and I was looking forward to the goal setting activities we'd get into.

I sat next to a girl (I guess I should say woman but I don't feel old enough for that yet) who had the kindest smile ever. She was long an pretty, like a harp. We hit it off well.

After a little bit of introduction and some drama-sharing (not on my part because I really have none) we started our yoga. Breathing was the focus (inhale exhale in case some of you forgot how, I know I do most of the time).

After an hour of breathing and twisting and humility (on my part) we sat down to write in our journals. These are the prompts I want to share with you. Think about them, write about them, even if you only have two minutes. You'll be amazed how far you can get:

1. Where am I struggling?
2. What am I most proud of?
3. What is my biggest dream?
4. What is holding me back?
5. What would I do if I knew I couldn't fail?

I wish we had spent more time on those prompts--but other activities took their place. Ones that were good, but like I said, would've rathered the time to plunge a bit more into those questions. I was surprised at where some of my answers took me.

So bottom line: just make up your mind to make it okay and try something completely new and different. If nothing else, you might make a new friend (or two).

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Splurge Tuesday:

I've really been great about not spending money lately, so I'm a little lean on the monetary splurge side of things...but today I am taking Ava to another program at the library. Rock n' Roll Toddlers. Did I mention that she can sing the first verse of the Beatles' Strawberry Fields?

What Life Includes

2008-01-13T07:01:00.001-05:00

I realized I hadn't shared my 08 goals...after posting the process I used to define them...

You can review them below, and don't hesitate to probe, prompt, or push me me on them!

Sorry they're so tough to read. I couldn't figure out how to include them as an attachment and not lose all the formatting!

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Splurge-quil:

January's "new and different" took me down to Washington, DC where I spent the day at a "Hip Tranquil Chick" yoga retreat. Anyone who knows me knows that this was DEFINITELY knew and different for me...

More on the experience tomorrow