I like this....

Recently, in a large French city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said:


¨THIS SUMMER DO YOU WANT TO BE A MERMAID OR A WHALE?¨

A middle aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern:

Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans). They have an active sex life, they get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing
themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Barren Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia . Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans.
They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.

Mermaids don’t exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don’t have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them not to mention how could they have sex? Therefore they do not have kids either. Not to mention who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store? The choice is perfectly clear to me; I want to be a whale.

P.S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver and a coffee with my
friends.

With time we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren’t heavy, we are enormously
cultured, educated and happy. Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, “Good gosh, look how smart I am.”

The Story of Going Vegan...maybe.

For some reason saying "vegan" is so much more intimidating than saying "plant based diet" and I can't figure out why. Maybe because in my mind, I think about all the foods I would be cutting out of my diet when I hear "vegan" whereas "plant based diet" is more about adding more plants into my diet and less processed foods and less meat. I haven't decided if I want to completely cut all animal products out of my diet, or if I just want to go for like 80%. And I know I won't be getting rid of the boots or belt that I already own that have leather in them because let's face it, I am too damn broke for that noise!

Why the new preoccupation with a plant-based diet, you ask? Well. I recently decided to be more open to the signs, symbols and opportunities that the Universe was sending my way, because in the past, that has only been a good thing. And in doing so, I realized I am SURROUNDED by veganism. And more than that, I can SEE the differences it has made for the people around me. I also have been given or lended several books and cookbooks lately about cleaner food sources that are better for us, the animals, the environment. I had this moment yesterday of extreme excitement when I realized that in one cookbook I was looking through, I could count on fingers how many recipes involved nuts. (I am allergic to several different nuts in varying degrees and it has always been a huge barrier to considering going vegan in the past.)

Also, and this is where we enter into the TMI zone, if I am being quite honest with myself, dairy and meat give me terrible gas when I eat them. I am slightly sad to admit that the last time I ate my favorite, terrible "meat eater" food (bacon) it gave me horrendous stomach pain. But! I am consoled by how good I CAN feel by some possible changes.

On top of all that, I am plagued lately by an overall sluggish feeling. Having cut out gluten for the most part, and being able to have gauged amazing results from that experiment, I started wondering if a plant based diet would yield further results. I want to be one of those really energetic, active, and happy people and I just can't find my mojo. So...here we go!

Staring February 8th, I am going to gradually wean myself off of animal products by adding in more and more plant based foods. I have decided that I want to do most of my own cooking, to make it cheaper, to cut down on processed foods, and to provide less temptation. I feel that if I really want to see how I feel I need to give it a fair shot, but I am not going to throw out all the food in my house that no longer meets (meats? get it?) my preferences. Again, too broke for that noise.

So, I know it has been a while, but I am going to skip right over the part where I talk about why I don't post here as much anymore and launch right into the juiciness that has brought me back to whine and vent and share the trials and tribulations of this mom here.

My 7 year old (almost 8) has her first boyfriend.

Yeah. That silence you felt is the same silence emanating from my shock and total loss at how to react. I mean, the part of me that is pre-emptively angsty about not fitting in or feeling the pain of being on the outside for her before she gets there may be slightly relieved at the fact that somehow, in the social structure of her oh-so mature 2nd grade class, she has a place. And when I stop and think about it, there are times I wish I could go back to having a 2nd grade relationship where you like each other, and send cute notes, and wave across the room and it's sweet and innocent. (Except not because I like my wonderful, adult, healthy relationship that has come into my life.) (And, not to mention, when I was in 2nd grade, boys were still yucky.) But the mom in me that wants to protect her from any sort of pain has already imagined the day she comes home and cries to me because this boy decided he also likes her best friend and wants to be her boyfriend for a while, because let's face it. 2nd grade relationships? Last about as long as any sort of freshly baked good when my daughter and boyfriend are both home. The fierce mother lioness in me can already feel the desire to yell at her friend "WHAT KIND OF FRIEND ARE YOU, YOU BOYFRIEND STEALING BITTY!" and then shake the boy "DIDN'T ANYONE EVER TEACH YOU SOME TACT AND MANNERS???" And that is when I get escorted off the school grounds for being "that parent" and the kids and parents alike whisper to each other when we pass by and Em no longer gets invited to birthday parties or sleepovers because she has that crazy, emotionally unstable mother, and she becomes that girl in the back of the class that out of loneliness develops the habit of....OH WAIT!

Let's snap back to the present moment where my daughter is standing in front of me, bouncing and grinning out of joy with the note clutched in her hand that says "Do you want to be my girlfriend? Circle one: Yes/No". She is so happy. And more than that, she has the trust in me to confide in me these things. To tell me who she has a crush on, and that she doesn't care if people don't understand it, she likes him anyway. And that she can tell me how happy she is that he sent her this note. And that she can also tell me when she is hurting, or confused. That she can tell me when she needs a moment to herself, and that she has learned enough about herself in this world to know when she needs a hug and that she knows she can always get one from me. The angry lioness of a mom is slowly getting quieter and quieter because I am struck with the thought: Oh damn, I must be doing SOMETHING right...

GO ME!

I love having a dog. I really do. But there are just some mornings when dog owners across the world may wake up and regret that they can claim that title. It has to be a wider phenomena than just my house. Like the mornings when your dog, inexplicably, thinks that it's time to get up at 3am. And 4am. And 5am. Or the nights when your pretty sure the dog has a hair stuck in his throat because he keeps gagging, but then again, he may be deathly ill, so no sleep is had. Or the morning after said dog was left home longer than he likes due to work schedule changes and you discover that he has revenge pissed all over the house. And you step in it. Over and over and over. It was one of those mornings today. I found myself immediately thinking of how much cleaner my house would be without a dog. How much more time I might have, and maybe even a little money. My furniture would be footprint free. My arms and legs would be scratch free. The only teeth marks on the things inside the house would be from my daughter's toddler years. And then I start to feel guilty.


Without doggle, Emily would be without a furry companion to keep her company when she wants solace but to not be completely alone. I wouldn't get out of the house and walk around the neighborhood as much. There would be no holy terror ripping around the house when he gets excited, making us laugh. There would be no one to lick away fallen tears or cuddle up to warm our laps. No one excited enough to pee when we came home, and no one with eyes quite that sad reminding us to come home again when we leave. And when Emily goes to her dad's, I would be oh so lonely.

Yesterday I committed myself to running a half marathon on my 30th birthday in October. 13.1 miles.

A year ago today Grandma Joanne was in the hospital. In about 15 hours, it will have been a year since she died with no one but a nurse holding her hand. (I still don't know who that nurse was, but someday, I would like to tell him how wonderful I think he is for staying with her.) I thought that by now, I would have dealt with more of this. There are times when I feel like I have, but there are also times where it hits me out of no where, like a heavy weight on my chest. Thanksgiving was hard. A year ago on Thanksgiving I was blocks away from her. No one answered the phone when I called so I gave up. I should have gone over there. I should have been there. I should have asked my mom how else to get a hold of her live-in partner/caretaker. But I didn't. I tried once and I gave up. At least she wouldn't have been so alone if I had done something more.

The man held responsible just got out of jail and is playing games on facebook. Why this is sticking in my head, I couldn't tell you. What else he is doing, I don't know. But knowing he is out is enough to keep me thinking twice about visiting the rest of my family over there. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him because I am more angry than I even realize and am afraid of what I would say or do. I don't want to see him because I am afraid of him and what he would say or do. I don't want to go because I am tired of hearing other people's opinions of him, of my grandmother, of the whole situation. I don't put all the blame on him entirely, I feel he is responsible for most of it, but not all. And I try to give respect and the benefit of the doubt. I have to believe that it is possible for good to exist in bad situations. But this by no means makes it ok for people to tell me what a wonderful person he is and how he could not have played any part in her death. It's still too raw.

I miss her.

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,
Generally I try not complain about my problems because I KNOW I could have it a lot worse, and I am incredibly grateful for what I do have. But at this moment, I am finding it hard to breath my way through this and see the other side. I feel so stuck and I can't see a way out. I feel like crap for the way I have unintentionally made people feel, and am frustrated that in taking care of myself and my child, I just make it worse. I know that every little step is a good thing, but I am ready to be able to take some big steps too. I am tired of being so broke, I am tired of debt, and I am tired of feeling like a failure. I know I sound like a whiny baby right now, but it would be really nice to feel financially stable at some point in my life.

Thank you for listening to me gripe, and for all the blessings in my life.

Snow days and growing up

Something about waking up to the hush that comes about on a snowy morning turns me into a giddy 8 year old inside. I love it. Not that I rush right out and jump in it like I used to. Being older and crabby about getting cold and wet gets in the way. (What is it about getting older that makes us more susceptible to the weather extremes?) I did however get up at 6:30 and take my dog out. It is endlessly amusing to watch a stubby legged dog try and come to terms with the cold, wet, sticking to his legs quality of snow. (It is also a lot harder to pick up after your pet in the snow, especially when it's still dark outside, because it melts down into the snow and you have to plunge your hand in after it.)

The other amusing thing about waking up to snow that wasn't there the night before is not the sounds of delight emanating from the neighbor kids outside, but the flood of texts I got from grown people exclaiming and heralding the snow. Some from co-workers out of joy for an unexpected day off. Others from people whom I would have expected to be asleep talking about wishes for snow coming true. My mother called what feels like 8 or 9 times to check on us. (In reality it was only twice I think, and both times she had other reasons for calling but still. "Did you see the snow!?") I sat and watched the snow on my back porch very early this morning and drank some tea and realized that I must be at least a little more grown up that I used to be because when I was a child, I would look at it and think "Well, I don't know about all the beauty crap the adults are talking about, but it's going to need to snow a lot more before there is enough for the snow fort!" Now that I am considered an adult I look at the snow and think to myself how beautiful it is. And THEN consider forts, snow ball fights and snow angels.

Facebook statuses are primarily about snow, hot chocolate, and maybe a few gripes about having to work in it. I heard my neighbor upstairs singing a song about the joy of snow days while her children chanted for hot chocolate. I may or may not have thrown a snow ball or two at the kids outside, and may or may not have thrown some at my dog just to watch him run wild in confusion and joy.

It may be less than an inch on the ground, and it may be almost entirely gone by noon, but I love that something so simple can elicit so much joy in people.

So that last post, the one about staying home all day? I still mean every word of it.

But.

I have been sick for a little over 24 hours and it's driving me crazy being stuck here with all my clutter. I have cabin fever in the worst sort of way. Contributing to this is a sense of feeling like I am still in my early 20's and just left home when I look around and notice that NOTHING in my house matches. Usually, I don't really care, but there is something that instills a sense of comfort and home when you actually put forth effort to make your home your own.

So here I sit, surrounded by too much stuff. Most of it stuff that I took because someone was offering it to me. Not because I need it. I didn't need the hide-a-bed couch, because my living room isn't big enough for two couches. I struggle with clutter a lot. It is my biggest challenge. Some of it is sentimental clutter and tied to emotional issues inside of me that I continue to work through every day. Some of it makes me feel like bad mom for not wanting to keep it around. Some of it is still there out of a lack of motivation and presence of never-endings ways to distract myself. I am so ready to be done with it. So. Once I get better. My winter mission is to make my home more of my own. Get rid of the couch. Get some shelves to organize some necessary stuff, and get rid of the things that when I look at, I am instantly drained by a sense of obligation or just frustrated by it's presence.

Not that I put much stock in appearing as an adult, but it would be nice to have a little more ownership over my space.

And to reward myself? Dinner party!

Every winter, the days become dark and gray, the world outside my home is under constant assault of Oregon's indecisive weather, and I mentally and emotionally crawl inside of myself. Without fail, every year when this time rolls around, as I trudge out of bed and off to the obligations the day brings, all I really want to do is stay home in my warm, comfortable house, drink tea, make art, read books and cook good food. I love it.

And I think that maybe it's a little odd for someone who has a tendency to get suffocated pretty quickly in situations, relationships, jobs, friendships and anything else that I would be so completely happy at the prospect of holing up inside of myself, inside of my apartment. But I can't help it. I love spending the day moving from project to project as my attention or desire wanders. I love the smell of baking, and beeswax candles that burn all day. I love taking my time.

And I think that is really what it comes down to. A craving for time. It is a luxury to be able to wander as I please. The world around me naturally goes to sleep during the winter months, it's a natural inclination to slow down that drives me to shut out the rest of the world and just be with myself for a bit.

For years I have felt that in someway, it is selfish or strange or unacceptable for me to do that. But this year I am practicing radical self care and have decided to honor that need inside of me instead of fight it. While I may not be able to sleep until I am ready to open my eyes everyday, the fact that I know I have carved out time in my life to be able to do this SOMETIMES is rejuvenating and feels awesome. I have already noticed a huge difference as I do this. Instead of feeling at odds with the world around me and that incredible stress that plagues a lot of people this time of year, I have a quiet sense of peace at my core.

And with that, it is time to take cinnamon rolls out of the oven, and pick out yarn from my stash for that new scarf I have been wanting to try my hand at crocheting.

Happy Sunday.

Things from kindergarten that are more useful now than they used to be #5439

Sticker charts.

I mean, really. How many balls can one person expect to juggle without one of them dropping? A day planner no longer cuts it. There are so many little things daily that I would like to accomplish, and writing them all in my day planner, for every day of the week, every week, all year would be a pain in the ass.

SO I am going to make myself a sticker chart. Because, nothing beats that silly drive inside of me to see how great I am written down on paper. What will be going on my sticker chart? Simple stuff that aren't ingrained as routine, such as taking my multi-vitamin (mom will be so proud!), leaving no un-rinsed dishes in the sink, eating gluten-free (bonus points for sugar free maybe?), and giving myself ten minutes at the beginning and end of the day to myself.

Is it weird that I am ridiculously excited about this?

Remembering

Sometimes I forget. I forget the pain, the sadness and the anger that my family evokes deep within me. Most of the time I don't. Sometimes I forget the amusement I oddly enough find in our dysfunction. Most people will say they have dysfunctional families, but mine takes the cake. It goes so far beyond embarrassing, weird and sad that I actually laugh at it. What I always fail to remember is how very good it feels to sit with someone who understands. Who can laugh with me and not just because it's so ridiculous that there is no other way left to react, but because she understands, she has experienced it. SHE KNOWS. There is something that brings about a sense of peace deep within me when I am able to spend my time with someone who doesn't listen or speak of it out of sympathy, but as a way to remember our shared history.

My cousin was here last week and words cannot describe how very amazing it was to see her. We have not seen each other in 12 years, and I could probably count on one hand how many times we have seen each other in person. We do not talk often. But despite that, we have this weird, freaky cousin sense. We are a little over 9 months apart in age, our children are exactly nine months apart in age. We begin and end relationships with similar people at roughly the same time, with people that came into our lives through similar paths. We seem to have rough spells at similar times, and after talking about our parenting experiences, parts of it are eerily similar. A friend of mine who got to meet her said it was like looking at a shorter, more blunt version of me. Five days was nowhere near long enough.

I have spent so much of my life trying to let go or forget a large part of my fathers family that I forget how very much I love and cherish some of them. Why does it have to be the part so damn far away? Having Katie here reminded me how even in the parts of life that I have deemed painful, there is beauty and love, and something to cherish. And, she is just too awesome for words. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful people in my life.

Sometimes I stop and think

What the hell am I doing?

I love this time of year. I love the smell and sound of rain, I love the cool temperatures, I love the seasonal food coming available. I love the natural inclination to reflect. I love that this all coincides with my birthday, a logical time to reflect, with a season that is symbolic of certain things coming to an end and other new beginnings.

Today I am all by myself at home. In my yoga pants and sweatshirt, drinking tea and slowly doing some house work. The last week has been a stressful one, but has brought about some much needed change and questions. I ended a professional relationship with a client, which at first brought tremendous feelings of failure and guilt, but when settled in with, brought a huge sense of relief. I love being a health coach, but I need to refocus myself a but, and refine exactly who and how I want to help. It was my first full week at the part time job I took working with children. It was wonderful and tiring. I am not used to having to be up and presentable and at work by 7am. That is a dreadfully early time for me and my mind/body, which is part of the appeal of being self employed. But I love the people I work with and for, I love that I get paid to remember how to play and I love that it will provide some financial stability while I wade through this professional swamp I put myself in the middle of. Most of all, I love that I am off work in time to pick up Em from school and spend my afternoons with her. But, after a full week of it, I am exhausted.

All of the stress and change and changing of my mind left me in a bit of a funk the last few weeks. Well, more than just a bit of a funk, in a huge funk. But Friday came and found me ready to float out of it. My work day brought me laughter, my afternoon brought me some time to myself to organize my surroundings physically in order to make space mentally, and my evening brought me the company of a wonderful person who reminded me how to feel joyful about who I am. And to feel pretty. (I am comfortable enough now to be ok admitting that I like to feel pretty.)

My birthday is in a few weeks, and while turning 29 does not usually lead to a lot of re-evaluation and contemplation as 30 does in most people, I find myself spending a lot of time the last few days looking back at what I had expected to do with my 20's, and where I anticipated being as I stepped into my 30's. On the whole, I am not too upset with where I am, I am happy with my life. I think most of all, I am craving certain kinds of stability. None of this is new, but it is on my mind. Financial stability is something I continue to work towards, and probably always will because it doesn't seem a wise thing to just shirk that off. But also, stability that comes along with a solid community of people. Yes, I have my church community, my friends, but when I look at all the people dearest to my heart, they are scattered across the globe like seeds to the wind. I have started to focus a lot more on my immediate community, and working on finding people here, now, that feel like good people to align with, to care for, to laugh with, and to love.

As my daughter continues to grow, being a mom is an incredible gift. I enjoy her so much more than I think I ever thoughts parents could. Is that weird? That I thought that? Seeing her make her bold statements to the world around her inspires me to be more courageous and confident.

Yes, there are things I would like to change, to overcome, to repair. But as I look back on the last year of my life, I can say with confidence that this is the first time in my life that my problems and my stress don't encompass all of me. They don't define me, they don't rule my moods and decisions as much as they used to, and they don't sap my happiness. I am happy. And I love that.

I know I say this a lot, but it is so very true. I have a blessed life.

Best friends are awesome. They listen to you go on and on about a new someone in your life. They drive impossible distances to come and see you. They help with whatever they can. They make your kid laugh that deep, contagious laugh. And they stay up late watching ridiculous tv shows with you.

Children are awesome. They snuggle up to you to remind you of how much love there is in life and how very blessed life is. They laugh in a way that drains stress out of your day in two seconds. They smell good, even when they smell bad. And they make all the struggle worth it.

I am feeling blessed in life right about now.

Another reason to not have more kids: Camping

Sometimes I get these Super-Mom-like notions in my head of what would be a really great idea. Like this one: gosh, it would be so fun to take Emily camping with friend-of-her-choice for a WHOLE weekend on the coast, AND take the dog.

Not that it wasn't fun, the girls were super stars, and earned all three levels of the Junior Ranger program thing they do at state parks here in Oregon. We swam, we hiked, we played, we sang, we laughed, we ate our body weight in s'mores. But, ohmygosh. Something about the dull, stuck inside-ness of the winter must have washed out of my working memory how very difficult it is to camp sometimes with children. Or, let me say, how difficult it is to camp the way I LIKE to, when there are children. That is not to say it's not fun, it's just....work.

Something in little girls clicks at the age of 6 and suddenly getting along and being nice isn't cool. What's cool now I guess is this snotty, pretend we are teenagers with more cool "stuff" than you game that drives me up the wall and tears my heart into a million pieces all at once. It hurts to watch this mean, competitive backstabbing attitude become the social norm in my sweet little girl. Watching the pain in her eyes at points during the frantic "Oh yeah? My limo has..." just kills me. Can't we all just get along? I remember not liking most females growing up, but I don't remember it starting this young, or being so...materialistic and vicious.

The amount of dirt that works it's way into every crevice of all people and equipment grows exponentially with each living being that is present, or so it feels like. Also, I take my child for granted. Not every child has such a respectful curiosity for nature. Some children, for instance, seem to have this kill it/eat it situation where if you can't become intimate with it, it's scary/gross/poisonous or all of the above and must cease to live or exist. This also reminds me that when the dog relaxes a bit, there are several patches of unidentified goo that need to be picked off or cut out of his fur.

My dog, bless his little soul, is not a camping dog. I have gained pounds of guilt for every instance I glanced at him, shivering and shaking and looking at me with that pitiful "WWWHHHYYYYY do you have be tethered to something like this in this cold, cold place with all of these people and dogs I can't play with" look. He would nearly jump for joy (as much as his stubbiness allows for at least) when we crawled into the tent for the night and would whine until someone let him crawl to the bottom of a sleeping bag where he could finally cuddle up to someone and be loved and warm.

This morning the bickering came to a head when the girls were arguing over which of the *identical* camping chairs they got to sit in. I moved them to opposite sides of the campsite, and for the first time in three days, had some quiet. And it came to me...as much as I love children, other people's children really get to me sometimes. I can work with them yes, but when they are a part of my family for days at a time, I become someone I don't know that I like. I don't like the way they chew, or the nickname they have given my daughter, I don't like the tone of their voice when they are picking on my kid, or the way they pick their nose and eat it. When they roll all over everyone's bed buck naked, I am surprisingly grossed out. I hate when they ask my kid if her mom and dad ever have sex because it opens a door that no one is really ready to explore. It drives me batty when they burp as loud as they can in my ear and I can smell it, when they make farting and pooping and peeing noises, and when they ask to hold my dog's leash only to yank on it so hard it sends him into a coughing fit. And then, when they say I am the best cooker ever and give me a hug I feel like the worst person ever for thinking or feeling all those things and nearly cry out of guilt. Is this any easier when there is another parent there? Who knows. I don't.

We got home, dropped of the Friend and unloaded. We showered the grime off (why is it that scrubbing the shower can take 45 minutes to get it clean and then 7 minutes of showering renders it worthy of a pig-sty?) and Emily looked up at me as we were watching a movie and said "Momma, I really just want to lay in bed and snuggle and have 5 minutes where it's just me and you. Camping was fun, but I wish it was just you and I, even though I wanted her to come with us. I miss you."

*tear*

So we climbed into bed, and promptly feel into a cuddled-induced sleep for almost three hours.

I will now be spending the rest of my night on the quiet porch, with a glass of ginger ale, and nothing but my thoughts.

Or the latest episode of True Blood and a friend. We'll see.

There are times in my life where the words seems to flow endlessly out of me. Onto paper, into a computer, into someone else, into the air. They never stop. An endless train of consciousness or something like it. An incessant need to try and relate the experience of life in words that never seem to do it justice.

And then there are times when even if I try, no words will come because the emotion has welled up so intensely that the words fall away and all I need is to sit and feel. To observe. To witness. To be. It is in moments like these that my mind stops and my hearts bursts with gratefulness and joy for all that I have been given. Even the struggles are blessings in moments like these.

Summer is passing so quickly. One snapshot after the other in my mind of life the last few months. Emily is growing so fast. She now reads some of the bedtime story, and has lost her first two teeth recently. We have been spending a lot of time at the park playing, and by we, I mean her and her friends. I am the mom sitting on the bench realizing how fast my daughter is hurtling towards the point of not needing me as much as I need her. I find joy in her confidence in life, mingled with a little sadness that I couldn't have slowed it all down and enjoyed it more.

I worry about my mother more and more all the time. And my father. It's funny and discomforting to watch the process as you grow of your parents going from all-knowing, protecting giants to smaller, weaker, more insecure individuals. My father took that fall a lot faster in my eyes than my mom, and for very different, self-created reasons. But my mom, life has battered up and down and she is still there, still treading or moving on. Whether she's smiling or crying she is still living and moving and working towards a better life. I am proud of her. But it's an odd sensation to be on the side of life where I no longer expect shelter from her regardless of my struggles and also feel compelled to shelter and protect her.

I have amazing people in my life, and my mother is among the most amazing. Someday, I will write about her life.

Life is surrounding me with love. Friends that do stupid things just to see me smile, who drive impossible distances to eat ice cream on my couch and color with crayons, friends who throw aside their "adult maturity and pride" to watch stupid movies with me, friends who support me however I may need it in the blink of an eye and unquestioningly. And most recently, a man who will drive over in the middle of the night and bring me ice cream and sit up with me after I have eaten something I am allergic to, just so I don't panic about being alone if something really bad happens, who tells me how incredible he thinks I am, and who will do goofy things with me just for the sake of being silly and assinine.

I am working with my first client, and it's very awesome. Some Great Spirit is throwing me spiritual experiences left and right to pry open my eyes, my heart, my mind. My dog intuitively knows when to cuddle and when to give me space. My kitchen is full of food, my house is full of love.

Life is SO very good.

Growing up FTW!

I recently ran into someone I went to high school with and it was nice in a nostalgic "oh yeah, your one of the ones I liked" kind of way. As we were catching up, he lamented "Man, we are getting old!"

Ok, first off, no, we aren't. We are OLDER, but if you feel old at 28, I have this nice little health coaching business to help you out...

And second, I have discovered that I LOVE "getting old". Here is why:

-There is a self-confidence that has crept in with age and life experience that is really comforting. Or maybe it is just that over time, I care less and less what other people think? Either way, it's grand.

-Insurance discounts that kicked in once I turned 25. What is it about 25 that dictates I am suddenly mature and responsible enough to not have to pay as much for car insurance?

-I have found that it's ok to embrace the parts of me I was told (whether overtly or not) were negative, or bad, or just not acceptable. Such as: I enjoy sex and being a sexual person; I love to be a reclusive, gluttonous sloth when I need to unwind; I no longer feel the need to commit myself to something just because it is something I *could* do; sometimes I enjoy really crappy literature; I don't like some people and feel no need to go out of my way to be nice to the really offensive ones; and there is nothing quite as satisfying as sitting on the couch in my underwear while watching an old movie and eating ice cream straight out of the carton (I can see my mother cringing right now).

-I don't care if I can't dance up to par with other people's standards anymore, it feels good.

-While it is somewhat of an ego-boost to get hit on in the bar, instead of internalizing it as a sign of my worth, I merely take it as a compliment. It neither makes or breaks my night in it's absence or presence.

-I no longer automatically register the things my mom tells me are good for me as solid gold fact, but take the time to do my own research and decide whether it really is good and right for me. (No, I don't feel like crap after eating too many nightshades.) (AAAND, eating too much of anything can make almost anyone feel like crap.)

-I like that the older my actual age is, the more people assume I am not, in fact, a mindless girl. And I like that I receive less condescending BS from people.

-As I age, I find my voice more and more. I like being a mouthy, opinionated woman who is ok making my needs known.

-I take care of myself in ways that work for me and feel right to me, because I *want* to be a healthy person, not because someone else is telling me that it's good for me.




All this being said, I still like being taken care of when I get sick, I still laugh at fart jokes, and I still have my teddy bear. And I am more than ok with all of the above.

Are fixed dogs supposed to be this horny?

Because mine is. Seriously. Every night upon following us into the bedroom for bed he has a little humping session with his doggie bed. The other night when the Boy was over and playing music on his guitar for me (*swoon*), he started humping his toy. My mom was petting him the other day and he started humping her leg. He humped my daughter's stuffed cat yesterday. He licks himself and humps the air.

This is getting ridiculous.

Knowledge is power but sometimes, it's scary

Normally, I don't write about my struggles with anxiety, but today, I am going to. I am sitting here staring at the computer and waiting for a nurse to call my back before I take these drugs. I have a kidney infection. How it advanced from bladder to kidney without me feeling ANYTHING, I have no idea. How I got it, I have no idea. All I know is that I have one. And ya know, it can kinda be a big deal if it goes untreated. So I go to pick up the meds they prescribed and with it came three pages of fine print warnings about side effects. Scary things like nerve damage and bursting tendons.

**an hour later**

This is the part where I admit that upon reading that I turned into a complete basket case. I called my mom, because no matter how unknowledgable mothers may be about what their children ask them, they are still an authority for some reason. I succeed in freaking her out because, hey, my anxiety had to come from somewhere, right? (She apologizes for this profusely every time she receives one of these phone calls.) Then I call the pharmacist. And she tells me hardly anyone ever experiences those side effects, they just HAVE to tell people about them. (What would the world be like without scare tactics I wonder? I mean, I see why they have to, but f-ing hell...). Then she tells me how serious a kidney infection is, like I don't already know. (From my mom, from the doctor, from past schooling I have received). That I should relax and just take them. Then I talk to my moms nurse friend who essentially says the same thing, and that she is allergic to it, and that yes it has side effects, but so does food. And then how serious a kidney infection is. She is, however, the only person to not do any of the following a)ask if my partner (assuming I even have one) is a clean individual, b) whether I pee after sex, or c) why didn't I seek a doctor when it was just a bladder infection. (Really? If I knew I had one, I would have!) I have a good cry about it because what is an anxiety attack without tears? I freak my daughter out. In between all this, I vent to friends who do wonderful things to calm me down. I put Em down for a nap and cuddle with her for a bit. Eventually I do calm down.

I need to remember to breath in situations like this. And that life is bigger than this body I life in, and that I will be ok.

And, in really bad situations, just remember that an astrologer told my mom that I would live into my 80's. ;)