If You Want More, Give More

I’ve been thinking alot lately about life, about people, about love, about relationships and about money. I’m feeling very fortunate and blessed. I have a good life. I am happy. That statement is worth millions to me…to be able to take stock of my life, look at it and say, “I am happy!” Truly, to my core happy.

I don’t have a magic solution to happiness…nobody does. But I believe if you want more, you have to give more. I cannot stand greed…not with money, with time or with relationships. I believe if you want a better partner, be a better partner. It’s the law of attaction…like behavior attracts like behavior. I find that when I’m a better partner, when I’m kinder, when I do his chore just because I want to be nice it benefits me in some way. Whether it’s feeling like I did a good deed or if he does something nice back. But the key is not to do anything with an expectation of return. Just like I notice when I’m having a bad day, if I take it out on the husband, he gets grumpy back. It’s no bueno. I guess my point is we (especially us women) spend alot of time complaining about our spouses and the areas they fall short. And so I stopped and wondered, “Where do I fall short?” or I think, “I’m always wishing he would buy me flowers or be thoughtful but what have I done to show my thoughtfulness?” It works both ways and I’m always trying to remember that…that if I want something I have to give something too. I can’t just hold my hands out and expect them to be filled.

I think about money. Who doesn’t want more of it? Most people do. Money is great…it gives you peace of mind and flexibility. But what it does not give me and will never give me is happiness. If you’ve ever said, “It will all be worth it if I get $XXX,” you’re fooling yourself. The feeling that money brings is temporary…if you’re unhappy and you hate your job, you’ll be still be unhappy and hate your job once the euphoria wears off, even if the money is still there. I know. I’ve been there. I’ve said it. I’ve lived it. Don’t believe me, try it. Go ahead. I’ll wait. So a long time ago I said, “Take money out of the equation…what will make me happy?” My answer was simple, “My family, my friends and time with them.” So I took the steps to make sure I was going on that path. And I’m happy I did. I have a job I love and I’m getting what I wanted…time with my family and time with my friends.

I can’t get yesterday back…or the day before…or the day before that. I don’t want to look back at my life and think, “God, I missed it.” I have a little girl who is growing faster than I can fathom. Who’s small pudgy hand is getting leaner and more graceful by the day. I walk into her room every morning and see a mess of long legs, skinny arms and knotted hair asleep and I think, “When did that happen?”

And yes, I’m a working mom. I like being a working mom. But right now, I’m a working mom…not a career woman. And that’s okay. It’s okay if I make less money. It’s okay if my title is smaller. It’s okay because I have a little girl who’s growing fast and I wouldn’t give up my evenings with her…I wouldn’t give up the laughs as she eats a handful of raw onions while we’re cooking dinner because she was experimenting. Those are moments I can’t get back. So right now…I’m giving it all to her and to Mike and getting more back than I could ever have hoped for.

Wordless Wednesday – Happy Fall

Real Me…Really Hurt

Why is it that the things that hurt us most are the things that we are least likely to talk about? I hold alot in…well, let’s rephrase…I hold alot of hurt in. There’s this broken part of me that wants to be loved so much that I allow myself to be hurt by people who claim to love me, but leave me scratching my head going, “Really? That’s not love.” I know when I’m being hurt intentionally. And yet, I don’t say a word. I let it go and I pray. I pray alot. I pray for the strength to not let it hurt so much. I pray to be a more understanding and more compassionate. And I pray to one day say, “Enough.”  

I’ve been to therapy. Probably not enough of it. I will never understand the motive behind being hurtful just to be hurtful, so I tell myself that it has nothing to do with me. That this person’s anger and resentment and treatment has more to do with them than with me. A therapist told me the same thing. But it doesn’t make it hurt less. It only makes me feel less worthy. It’s a childs way of thinking when you think, “If only I did this better, you would love me more.” I know this isn’t true, so why can’t I stop myself from performing like a little puppet in a show?

I didn’t mean to get all hum drum tonight. It’s just that I’m hurt and I figure you guys read all about the happy days and I say “real” like four times in my tagline so here it is. Real me…really hurt. And now that I’ve said, “I’m hurt”, I can move on from it. I can go back to focusing on the things that make me happy. I can focus on my gorgeous little girl, my awesome husband and the wonderful people in my life, who when I extend my hand, they reach back and grab hold. To the circle of people that I love, thank you for loving me back with my faults, without question and without me having to perform my puppet show. Although, I put on a damn good puppet show if you’re interested! 🙂

Do lizards play dead when they molt?

So the husband is working late this evening and I have this thing called a triathlon looming in the near future. Since I have Ava, going to the gym is out of the question but I think, “Oh…I’ll just go run on my treadmill in the garage.” So I get all dressed and get out to the garage and get on the treadmill. My fingers press the start button and my legs start moving. I’m adjusting my ipod, look down and immediately scream and run back in the house and slam the door.

I gather myself and decide to go back outside and inspect what I think to be some sort of reptile in front of my treadmill. In case you haven’t caught on yet, I’m terrified of anything that crawls. Yes…even children. Anyhow. I go back out and creep up the treadmill and take a peek. DEFINITELY, a reptile…a lizard of some sort. I’m like, “WTH, why aren’t you moving?” I think maybe he’s dead and then I realize he’s got a layer of skin around him.

So I come inside, grab my phone and call Mike. Here’s what happens:
Me: Baby…there’s like a 6 inch maybe dead, maybe not dead lizard in the garage.
Him: Huh?
Me: Yeah. I know right. Only maybe he’s not dead. He’s molting. Or do only birds do that?
Him: Janice. Take the big push broom and sweep him out of the garage.
Me: I don’t think you understand. He’s in front of the treadmill. Between the treadmill and the wall.
Him: Okay. So go inside, get a broom and sweep him out.
Me: Okay. (walk inside get the broom)
Him: Is he alive?
Me: I don’t know I’m too scared to touch him.
Him: Use the broom.
Me: Even WITH the broom I can’t do it. I’m  too scared.
Him: He’s not going to jump up on your treadmill?
Me: OMG…I didn’t even think of that. Forget it. Guess I’m not running tonight.

And I’m terrified. I’m sitting in the house wondering how the little booger got into the garage. And I can’t stop wondering if he can get into the house. Maybe he’s dead. If he is he’s probably going to come back to life and scurry up my bed while I’m sleeping. OMG. This is why I can’t watch scary movies. I might have to go stay the night at Casie’s house.

You don’t say?

Sometimes my conversations with Ava just make me giggle. Having an almost 4-year-old around will do that. So I’ve decided to share a few with you.

RANDOM CONVERSATION #1
Ava: Mom, I want to drive myself to school tomorrow.
Me: Ava, you can’t drive yourself to school tomorrow? Your legs aren’t long enought to reach the pedals.
Ava: Yes they are. Look. (Extending her legs out as far as she can)
Me: I don’t think they are long enough. Plus you don’t know how to get there.
Ava: Yes I do. Left and then right and then left.
Me: No honey. When you get older you can drive to school.
Ava: Mom, I wish you would trust me on this.

RANDOM CONVERSATION #2
Ava: Mom, look at that police man. What is he doing?
Me: There was a car accident. See how that car is smashed?
Ava: Yes. Don’t worry the police officer will handle the situation. Right, mom?
Me: Yes…that’s right.
Ava: And if we don’t listen to our parents then he will come and haul us away to jail. Right, mom?
Me: Definitely.

RANDOM CONVERSATION #3
Me: Crap.
Ava: Ohhhhhhh mommy…that’s a naughty word!
Me: I know. Sorry. There’s a fly in the car! Do you see it? (At which point I hear…)
Ava singing:
Shoo, fly, don’t bother me
Shoo, fly, don’t bother me
Shoo, fly, don’t bother me
For I belong to somebody

Me: (giggling)
Ava: Did it work mom? Is it gone?
Me: Nope. I still see it.

At which point she starts singing it again. I must admit, I just wanted to hear her sing it again.

The Day Starbucks Made Me Look Like a Liar

So this morning was one of those rare mornings when Mike was home in the morning. He usually leaves for work long before I’m even out of bed. Since we’ve moved into the new house, my Starbucks budget went from $20 a week to $2 a week. I don’t even know that I love the coffee that much because once I get to work I could have coffee and I don’t want it. I think I just like going to Starbucks…the social aspect of it.

Anyhow…back to the story. So given that my Starbucks budget has been $2 a week, I’ve only been to my new Starbucks like five times. Since Mike was home this morning and we were running on schedule I suggested we all go to Starbucks this morning. I’m telling him how I’m excited because I never get to go to Starbucks anymore, blah, blah, blah. I get to the counter and the guy says, “Grande Iced Coffee Unsweetened, right?”

Dude! It’s so awesome that he remembered but now I look like a total liar. Because who remembers the coffee order of a girl that doesn’t come in at least three times a week? Mike kind of looks at me and grins and I’m all, “I swear…I don’t know how he remembered that.” I even tried to say to the barista, “Wow, I’m surprised you remember.” And instead of him being like, “Oh we try to remember everyone, even you people who only come in once a week,” he just says, “Of course.”

P.S. If you haven’t had Swedish Fish in awhile, don’t eat them. Seriously. They are like crack for adults. I thought, “Oh, Swedish Fish, I’ll have one.” And I haven’t stopped all damn day.

Hating Hate

Why do I do this to myself? I need to have CNN and all other news sources blocked. But this time it’s kind of my mom’s fault. I didn’t find this story on my own. She asked me if I had heard the news about about this pastor, Terry Jones, and him hosting a “Burn a Quran Day.” I am speechless and at the same time so angry that I can’t even collect my thoughts to form correct sentences. I read this great article today that kind of nails it on the head for me.

I am a Christian…a very proud one. I believe in Jesus Christ. And for the life of me I couldn’t imagine sitting down and having a talk with God or Jesus and either one of them saying, “Now what I want you to do is, go out there, collect their holy word, burn it and perpetuate the hate.” Just doesn’t seem very Christian-like to me. Maybe I’m wrong?

It is sad and pathetic that this man, Terry Jones, claims to be a man of God. It upsets me that this man is using my faith as a catalyst to carry out these acts and claiming to do the work of God. How is that much different that the terrorists using their faith to carry out their acts of violence and hate? Using the cover of faith for personal agendas is just wrong.

About the only thing in this world that I hate is hate itself. Nothing good has ever come from it and nothing ever will.

This Post is Not For Everyone

So I did this poll asking if it was was okay if I wrote about tampons. And by did a poll, I mean I asked three people who frequently put it all out there for the world to read. But who cares…they said I can write about tampons as long as I give a disclaimer. And Mike said I could write about it too, and he’s pretty modest about me sharing info on here. So there it is and here we go:

If you cannot handle reading about tampons, stories about periods, vaginas or questions kids ask about those things…STOP READING. Dad – This is specifically directed to you.

Okay, if you’re still here I don’t want to catch any crap for this story being TMI. It totally is. But I have to share the story…it’s too funny not to.

So I’m in the shower this morning and Ava wakes up and comes stumbling in. She says, “Mommy, I want you to come snuggle wit me.” I tell her I have to finish showering but as soon as I’m done I’ll snuggle. She sits down on the bathroom floor and waits. I get out of the shower, she takes one look at me and this is what happens:

Ava: Mom, what is that string hanging out of your bagina? (yes, that’s how she says it)
Me: It’s a tampon string.
Ava: What’s a tampon?
Me: It’s something women use when they have their period.
Ava: What’s a period?
Me: Well, ummm, it’s something women get that makes their back hurt, their tummy hurt and makes them cranky.
Ava: Mom, are you hurt?
Me: No honey…I’m okay right now.
Ava: I’m cranky. Do I have a period?
Me: No Ava. Let’s go snuggle.

So…if that wasn’t awkward enough, there’s more. I mean really. How do you explain a period and a tampon to an almost 4 year old in terms she can understand? So I put my robe on and get ready to go snuggle with her. I should mention I went to the gym and did legs the other day and I am still so sore. So I go to get in her bed and I say, “Ouch, my legs hurt!” She looks at me so seriously and says…are you ready…

“Mom, I think you need to take that tampon out of your bagina. It’s making everything hurt!”

P.S. I knew you’d read it anyway Dad.

I Love the Nordstrom Return Policy

Do you want to know a secret? It’s a secret I was afraid to tell for a really long time. You can’t judge me because it’s real and I’m pretty sure most people don’t say this but there’s been two births in my life recently. Combine that with a video I saw today about mom’s who wrote messages about what they wish they knew before they had kids. It got me thinking about Ava being born and that whole experience.

Here’s my secret: The first few days after I had Ava, I wished there was a return counter. A Nordstrom’s return counter because they let you return anything, even if you didn’t buy it there. True story.

All these women told me, “Oh…it was love at first sight.” And if you look at pictures right after I gave birth, it was. Oh yes…it was the honeymoon stage that lasted all of but like 24 hours or something. I wanted to be in love with her but I wasn’t. She invaded my life, interrupted my sleep and was so damn needy. She nearly chewed my nipples off, screamed for hours on end and, at first, was zero return on my investment. I thought, “Oh my dear God, what have I done? I was so happy and now I’ve messed it all up.” And don’t mistake what I’m saying…I loved her from the beginning. I stayed up and begged Mike to let me hire someone to come make sure she breathed all night. And by begged I mean cried and pleaded and tried to make a case. I was so scared she was going to stop breathing. So I know I loved her. But that “I’m so glad you’re here and I’m so in love with you” feeling, that didn’t come right away.

I cried and cried and cried some more. I cried because I couldn’t stop crying. I cried because what kind of person who wanted a baby her whole life could have one and then think, “Wow, this is too hard and I might not want to do this?” I mean really, so much guilt came with that. I remember my best friend telling me later that she thought I was a little crazy during that time. And then she had a child and I got that phone call, “Can you please come over?” And she said, “How come nobody tells you about this part? How come everyone pretends like it’s so awesome and wonderful and that they are so in love?” And I said, “Because nobody wants to admit it kind of sucks at first.”

So I wish women were a little more honest because it would have been so nice to have known that I wasn’t the first person to feel that way. That I wasn’t a shit mom. That it would pass the minute she smiled at me. That it would melt away a little more the first time she giggled. That the pride I would have the first time she crawled, walked and talked would let me know I was in love with her…a little more each day. Until the love that I had was incomparable to anything I had felt in life. That the happiest moments would come singing “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah” with her in kitchen while making dinner.

Tonight we sang it while making tacos and no matter how many times I tried to teach her that the song goes, “My oh my what a wonderful day” she kept singing, “My oh my what a beautiful day.” And then I stopped correcting her because it is a beautiful day.