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!

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?

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.

hurdles of awesome

I am my largest obstacle.

Seriously. I am. My fear of my past becomes fear of my present and anxiety over my future. I create scenarios in my head that just make those walls I build around myself even higher. I have spent a lot of time that last two weeks examining these bits of myself, as I got to the point where I completely unmotivated myself into paralyzation. Ugh. What an awful feeling. I know that part of it came from dealing with residual stress from the sentencing hearing, but I was using that as an excuse. I quit doing all school work and prepping my business for the opening this month. The wonderful person that recently came into my life suddenly scared to hell out of me and I started pushing away and pretending that I didn't care as much as I thought I did.

Until I had this perfect moment of clarity. I was laying in the park, staring up at the trees, and I suddenly just KNEW how awesome my life could be if I would just let all that anxiety go. So I started to. I would like to say "SO I DID!" but its a process that is longer and more involved than that.

I am ready for what is coming my way! I open for business this month! I am enjoying the people in my life! I am acknowledging my fear but not making decisions based on it. BRING IT!

Oh! And visit my website! www.gracefulexistence.com

I cultivate what I want and need

I am constantly amazed at the responsiveness of the Universe to my needs when I take the conscious time and effort to just recognize what they are and let them be known. Just the other day I was thinking "gosh, it would be nice to have some female friends here in town that x,y, and z." BAM! A friend from high school is back in touch and fabulous, and has fabulous friends and they are all x,y, and z, and then some. I need to remember this secret super power of mine when I am feeling down and out and sorry for myself. I create my life. It is what it is because that is what I made out of it all.

I have great people in my life. I just thought you all should know that.

I have been on this high-productivity binge lately that I am really kind of loving. I wonder how long this will last? I know I am not the only one because one of said great people mentioned above, Lizzy, mentioned it in her blog today too. (By the way, she is made of awesome.) It feels pretty bad ass, but maybe that is just because I was really done with feeling like I did for days on end was sit? Don't get me wrong, embracing my inner sloth was a wonderful, informative experience, and I really perfected my gluten free oatmeal chocolate chip cookie recipe, but it's nice to know that circulation still works once I remove myself from the butt groove I have created in front of the computer and on the couch.

My energy levels have always come in little spurts, but lately it is just like a productivity God spewed some life into me or something. I think a lot of it has to do with putting so much focus on m health lately, and really focusing on what I am putting into my body. Eliminating gluten and drastically reducing my sugar intake has made me feel so amazing, but I didn't realize just how great until I threw it all out the window this weekend and ate all the crap I have been avoiding, practically in one sitting. Talk about feeling like a slug! And my skin broke out. I have always been a pretty healthy eater. Or, I have been ever since becoming a mom, but there is something different about it this time, and I think it is because I am really invested in feeling better about my life, versus trying to be a good model so that someone else doesn't feel like I do, or treat themselves the way I have. Not that positive role modeling isn't a good thing, it really REALLY is, but it just feels different when it is coming from this place. As soon as I got all that junk out of my system and ate a really awesome and wholesome meal, I felt better and my energy levels were right back up where they had been the previous days. Anyhow, we all benefit from it because I feel better, so I am more pleasant to be around and everyone else is happier too.

Today two friends of mine who live in New York came to visit and I must say that watching someone I have known for like 15 years meet my kid for the first time is just about the cutest. Nothing boosts a momma's pride like being able to show off how awesome her child is. But it is interesting to me that lately, so many people from my past have come back into my life in one way for another. And not those "oh-my-gawd, how on earth did they find me?" people, but the "oh! i am so happy you called because I was pretty sure I would never talk to you ever again!" people. I'd like to think that it is a sign of some sort, or a reward for being so intentional about life lately. But maybe it is just coincidence triggered by the alignment of awesome and nostalgia? (I know that statement made no sense, sorry.) Whatever it is, I am pretty happy with life lately.

And. I have new hair. And I hate taking pictures of myself...

renewing myself

Ahhh, spring. I love this time of year. Especially before the pollen starts trying to rearrange my DNA through my nose. I love that it is light until almost 8pm. I love that there are flowers out, and birds, and I can officially start my garden.

This year spring seems especially pivotal in my life. I have made changes that have been a long time coming, I am focusing on parts of my life I have been hiding from the past few years, and I am moving in a direction that feels right. Renewal at it's most invigorating.

This weekend my best friend came into town and on the day of the equinox, we went for a hike out in the woods. Being surrounded my trees and the running water, it was so grounding. But more than that, it was incredible to be surrounded by such beauty, with someone, but in silence. So often life gets so filled with noise and I don't realize how overwhelming that is for me, or how it only lends to a feeling of lonliness because the noise serves as a barrier. Silence is so powerful.

I am looking forward to the experience the Universe throws my way in the coming months. I am starting my own business, going to a chaplaincy training, going for an adventure in New York City, and have been emerging back into communities I thought I had left behind long ago but am realizing now that I just needed to be there on my own terms, not someone else's expectations.

Isn't life grand?


Oh-and, have I mentioned that I get all impulsive and experimental around my best friend? I cut off my hair and put some red in it. It's pretty fun.

Note to Self

Dear Wonderful Self,
I know if felt really awesome to get back out there and run yesterday evening, but you were so amped up that the endorphins were wreaking havoc on my ability to sleep last night. I feel no sorrow for you as you contemplate how awful that dull ache behind your sleep-deprived eyes is. Ok, maybe a little because I have to put up with it too, but still.

If you are going to take such good care of yourself that you have all this awesome energy, can we please make it happen during daylight when the rest of the world expects me to be a functioning unit? Not that being up and cleaning at 3am because there was nothing else to do was such a bad experience, but being up and feeling hung over without having had a drop of alcohol really kind of sucks.

I am sure we can navigate this bump in our relationship and will have many more years of a happy union.
Yours Truly,
Your Self.

In Which She Accomplishes Nothing

I have done absolutely nothing today except rock the sweat pants in a sexy manner, and read fluffy books that take no brain power. And cook food for myself. The only thing saving me from making and then eating an entire batch of cookies right now is the fact that I am out of sugar and have no chocolate chips. And the sweat pants make a persuasive argument for staying home. Besides. I have hot chocolate.

Some of you may be wondering what has sent me into hermititude and depression, but before the picture show in your head gets too far, let me tell you, I SO deserve this down time. It's finals week after all. And, I entered myself in the "mom of the year" contest this weekend letting Em have a sleep over (I even over heard the "your mom is so cool. my mom isn't special like yours, shes a different special though...), then hosting three children and four grown adults for the day (I cooked AND had a clean kitchen when all said and done. I am currently pondering just what super-human influence allowed me to accomplish this in my lazy stupor), and hung out with my mother the following day. Which was nice. But I was tired.

I woke up this morning with stuff to do. I got out of bed and did the most important, which is good because it means I continue to have a place to live. I promptly came home, thought of what else I should be doing, put my pajamas back on and curled up with my book. Maybe tomorrow I will work on my book some more and finish up that last assignment so I can take my online final. And maybe I will go grocery shopping, but I have enough vegetable matter in my fridge for a few days, so maybe not. I have rather enjoyed being lazy.

Happy Monday.

in/peccare

I have been receiving a lot of messages in life recently. Most of them are telling me to ignore people in one way or another. The attitude people project and the way they treat people is a projection of what is inside of them, and the way they feel about themselves. I think this is so valuable to remember. How many times has the way I am feeling about myself colored my feelings and actions towards other people? More than I care to admit. I am the kind of person who tends to take things really personally. There are certain people in my life with whom it is a constant struggle to not walk away from interactions with them angry or hurt. It helps me to remember just how miserable they are inside. (Not that I assume all assholes are miserable inside, but the ones I know well really are miserable inside.) It is not my responsibility to account for their misery, nor is it to make them feel better, or take some of the toxic load off of their shoulders. I am responsible for myself.

I was recently given a copy of "The Four Agreements" based on Toltec wisdom. The first agreement is to be impeccable with my words. Sounds simple enough right? The word comes from the latin word impeccabilis. In- (without) and -peccare (to sin). Sin is not only a biblicial thing, but an intent, a presence of malice. So to be impeccable with my words is to be without judgement, or falsity. (Is falsity a word? It is now...) To have an intent of positivity or gentleness. Not only with others, but with myself. This affects the way I interact with myself and with others. The way I approach, engage, and respond.

I have been working on this the last week or two. This and not internalizing the negativity of others. The pleasant side effect of this is that it has helped me cultivate positive attitudes and presence in life. I have this vision that can only be described as vitality. An attitude and feeling in life that I strive for. A way of life. A way of serving others. A way of being. It is closer. I can feel it.

Credo Week, day two: What is good, right, true?

WHAT IS GOOD, RIGHT, TRUE?

What values and authorities do I respect and why?
Who do I consider a role model?
What examples do I follow?
Do I base my ethical choices on rules, culture, consequences or something else entirely?
Does human evil exist and if so how so?
How could I change the world to be a better place and what do I do already?
What do I believe about ultimate authority, God(s) and/or Goddess(es)?
Who has the power to decide the truth?

There is plenty in this world that is good, right, and true. Too many people try to define this for everyone else, yet cannot define what it means for themselves when they look within. Maybe this is because when we look within, we have to face the times when we have not chosen what is good, right, and true? I have a special admiration and respect for people who know beyond any doubt what their values are. Or have the courage to evaluate and change accordingly so that they are true to themselves in this moment. I value and respect people who have the courage to broadcast their values to a general public that has no obligation to be joyous or even respectful of those values. I may not agree with another's values, but the fact that they are strong enough in their belief is something I envy at times.

I value those walks of life that take into account their impact on the world around them. I value the kindness and decency of treating others as you'd like to be treated, and I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that what we put out into the universe comes back to us threefold. I respect people who have the mindfulness to be able to see through the exterior that people put up and realize that we are all struggling at times, that what we portray of ourselves on the outside is not the whole person we really are, and that can treat everyone with patience and gentleness. I struggle with this sometimes.

I think everyone is a role model. Not necessarily a good one though. Some people step up to the challenge and responsibility and live their lives as a role model, wearing their values on their sleeves and letting their actions speak for them. Others tend to ignore or not see the potential they have in affecting change, or hide from that responsibility, because it is a huge one to live up to. It requires us to be accountable for our choices and actions in life. It means being able to know and explain why we eat, live, act the way we do. It also means acknowledging and accepting the times when we did not do right by ourselves or others, learning from it, and then incorporating that lesson into who we are. Not everyone is conscious enough of themselves to do this. Who do I see as role models is my life? There are so many. The first three that come to mind are my daughter, for her endless ability to see the magic in life and remember what is good and important. My mother, for her strength she has for others. I have never seen someone sacrifice so much or be so steadfast in times of struggle as she has in my lifetime. She is also a role model to me because she has exhibited that when you sacrifice of yourself too much, that strength becomes a weakness, and through her, I have learned to care for myself. And St. Therese of Lisieux. Her dedication to being happy in order to help others be happy is inspiring. In her book she talks about making a point to feel love for another nun in the convent who she was least fond of, by way of smiling at her always and greeting her with love. I think if we all took time to be nicer to ourselves, those we love, and especially those we don't, the world be a lot more stable.

Does human evil exist? Maybe in the choices that we make. I don't believe that anyone is inherently evil. The idea of original sin is silly to me. We are all a product of our environment and as we grow older we become our own person, and make choices accordingly. We each have to power to make our lives as good, happy, hard, or evil as we choose. To a large extent I feel all of life is a choice for each of us. It is easier to leave ultimate authority to a Diety for some, but when it comes down to standing there deciding to help the person who has tripped in the middle of the street or walk away, I am the only person debating what to do inside of my head. At the end of the day, I may feel my choice aligned with my Great Spirit, or maybe it didn't and it is fuel to try more next time. Ultimate authority rests within ourselves, we choose to give it up to someone or something else, but we have the ability to take control of it. Diety, to me, serves as guidance and gentle support, not ruler and judge.

At the end of the day, truth is decided within me. I live my life based on my intuitions, and so far, the times I have listened to it, it hasn't failed me yet.

Credo Week, day one: Who am I?

Who am I?

Who am I in terms of my cultural backround, my gender, my activities, my family and their history? What do the things I really enjoy say about who I am? What is my religious story, from childhood til now? Are there some beliefs I held when I was young that aren't true for me now? How have I become the person I am today? What experiences and beliefs have shaped me? Where is my life journey headed? (questions brought to you by Credo Week on facebook found here)

Answering the question of who I am conjures of images of who I used to be, and who I want to be, all of which mixes into a blur of who I am right now. It's fluid, I am constantly changing. That is one of the beautiful parts of this life I have been given, I am constantly provided with the opportunity to reassess who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. It brings me great joy to know that I can change that and it's not only alright, but a wonderful thing!

But who am I really? I am me. A woman learning more and more everyday to embrace femininity. I am a mother. First and foremost to my beautiful little girl, but also to the world at large. My gift to this world, or one of them, is my capacity to love and care for those who need it. It is in my passion to feed people. Not just food that sustains them, but to feed their souls, their minds, and their hearts. It is found in my desire to know what is behind tremendous acts of faith or displays of love. It resides in my ability to listen and feel the emotion behind the words. And it hides in the quiet embrace of spirit that I strive to feel all around me. I have discovered these gifts within me as a bi-product of being raised with a broken, dysfunctional, hilarious, marvelous family. One that destroys itself out of habit, has offensive and violent dedication to things that don't make sense. One that has faith, when convenient, and opinions galore. One that has hurt and neglected me. And one that has loved and held me. Climbing through the anger and pain to be able to see the beauty has taught me that this gift of who I am, it is because I who I was, who they are. I have the strength, and wisdom that I do because of them. I have the empathy and compassion in spite of them. And I appreciate the true gems found among them because of the failings of the rest.

I began life thoroughly confused by religion and God. The institution of church felt cold, uninviting and mandatory. God felt vengeful and unloving, a suspicious father figure waiting for the inevitable moment when I would display that I was, in fact, a bad person. Why would a diety create a body of people only to set them up for failure and eternal damnation? How was this a loving creator? As I got older, I realized I didn't ascribe as completely to the tenets of faith that those around me did. I craved more on a personal level. If I was going to follow God, I wanted to have a good long conversation with him before I turned over my soul to his care. My mother, bless her, never did what others tried to do, which is tell me what God's answers would be to my demands and questions. The acceptability and encouragement of spiritual exploration led me down many paths over the years and somewhere along the lines I realized I was a Unitarian Universalist. A community of love and respect, with the freedom to choose what I believe. It is through this open acceptance that I have felt the safety to question what I believe, to open up to myself and others about my doubts, my fears, and my joys. The resources to explore what other paths are out there that support my own personal spiritual growth. This has taught me to be confident in the life I choose to lead. This has provided me with a loving spiritual home to fall back upon when I need it most. And it has given me an avenue in which to give. To serve. It is through this service that I have felt most connected with a web of life, with Spirit. I can't define precisely what kind of diety I believe in, but I know that I have not found it in someone else's bible or law. I know it is there because of the serene and perfect moments in life in which I have felt it. And because of the moments which I refused to believe in it, yet found it was still there. I have felt it most often through the spirit of love and the way in which it enters and blesses my life. Through the people that I know, and the challenges I have.

I give because I love. I learn because I thirst. I write because I long to connect and share. I love because of what I have received in life. I am still standing because of my courage to keep climbing through the tears and laughter of love, hate, confusion, despair, contentedness, joy, sadness and ambiguity of life.

It is impossible to define who I am without defining the world around me and everything in it, because it has all contributed to the maze inside of me. But whatever it is, whoever I am, or wherever I end up, it will be amazing and beautiful.

my happiness project

Lately I have felt this pull towards something I cannot define or see. It's an urgent kind of tug, on my heart. It's not scary. It's just there. So much of my life is focused on "doing". Doing homework, doing the endless amounts of housework, making lunches, helping Em do homework, doing work that might in the long run make me money, doing what I said I would, doing what I feel like I should. What happened to just being? I feel like I worry so much about getting things done that I am missing what really matters to me most. What is scary is that sometimes, when I stop to think of those things, I don't remember what some of them are. I feel like I start to lose myself in this to-do list that the world around me never stops contributing to. It isn't that I am unhappy with my life, quite the opposite. I am more happy now than I have been in a really long time. I just feel like I could appreciate it more. Or take more time to actually see the things in life that are beautiful to me. I want to stop being so focused on what I have to do next so that I can take time for what is in front of me right now. Too often, I push those things aside.

So, here I am, sitting with this feeling, and I happen upon a book. The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. And it is all about what I had been feeling, organized by a slightly OCD writer (I mean that in an envious I-wish-I-could-lay-it-all-out-like-that kind of way). I start to read this book and it is so much what I want to do with my life. There is so much awesome right now, I don't want to just glaze over it anymore. I don't want to settle for hoping my loved ones know how much I appreciate them anymore, I want to hold myself accountable for enriching those relationships and seeing that they know I love them. I am tired of my mental and physical clutter holding me back from enjoying life more. And, as if you hadn't guessed already, I am starting my own happiness project. In the book, Gretchen Rubin picks 12 areas of her life that she wants to boost happiness in, or appreciate more. One for each month. She even has little bullet points in each area that are specifics of WHAT will make that happen, and she lays them all out on a little chart so she can give herself check marks or X's at the end of the day to rate her progress. How organized can one person be? Anyhow. My happiness project. I don't really know what it is going to look like yet, or how it will play out, but I do know that I would like to be living my life and conducting myself with more intentionality than I have been. God bless the inventor of auto-pilot, you were a genius, it's just not how I want to live my life.

I am excited about this. I am kind of a nerd for organizing things, even if my household disarray doesn't reflect that all the time.

I am embarking on an exciting journey. For the last year or so I have been searching for a path that would allow me to fulfill more of my needs and I am beginning to walk down a new road that I feel will do just that. I love the feeling of excitement, curiosity, and unfamiliarity that is overflowing with possibility. Today is the first official day of my program with the Institute of Integrative Nutrition. For roughly the next year I will be learning how to make better choices with my life, change the way I eat, and the way I live, in order to feel better. I will also be learning how to help other people do the same for themselves. Just thinking about this new journey gives me the chills, in a good way! There have been so many people in my life that have supported me, cradled me, loved me, pushed me to listen to what I want to do and then help me get there. I know I have said this before, but I am truly blessed.

Here's to a new adventure...

Christmas Tree debacle

I'm not a scrooge, I swear. It's just that I really don't care about a lot of the conventional structures and traditions of a materialistic consumer society. (I type as my gaze drifts to the cheesy wrapping paper strewn across the floor by my child in an effort to view her gifts in the best possible light of the gray morning.) That, and I'm lazy.

Being lazy isn't something that anyone likes to admit, but it's time that I own up. Of the five years I have lived here we had a real tree three of those Christmases. Our first Christmas here, Em's dad was still a bigger part of my life and he was here to haul the tree in, and then when it was all over, haul it back out to the curb when all was said and done. By the time our second Christmas rolled around, he wasn't here as much. So, the tree made it up and decorated about two days before Christmas. When February rolled around it was still set up. So I did what any sleep-deprived, single, impatient, lazy mother would do and moved it out onto the back porch. Where it stayed for another month until my dear friend Miles came to visit. Miles is like a house elf. You leave for work and when you get home the dishes are done, the stains in the carpet are gone, and so is the Christmas tree. As embarassing as still having a Christmas tree in March may have been, you would think I would have learned my lesson, right? Apparently not. The third Christmas, something very similar happened, except instead of Miles or some other blessed soul coming along to the rescue, I got a warning letter from the landlords saying something to the extent of: "Dear Tenant, while we understand people have busy lives it is utterly ridiculous that your tree is still on your back porch. It's March for cryin out loud, what the hell are you thinking? It's a fire hazard. Get your lazy ass out there and take care of it, chump. But don't put it in the dumpster or we will fine your ass. Happy Spring, and thank you for renting from us." What's a carless Mama to do? (Although I felt much better upon noticing that there were at least four other apartments in the same predicament as me...) I couldn't put it in the dumpster. Correction, I couldn't put it in MY dumpster. So naturally, after a beer or two too many, my friend and I, decked out in black, hauled it to the other apartment complex's dumpster in the middle of the night. I know, I know, how immature but it was fun. And really, how amused would you be to take your garbage out in late March and find a tree there? I would be thrilled. It's like a little reminder of all the holiday joy you shared with your family. Or-if your like me-a nice metaphor for the stress headache you accumulated during the holiday and how you need to let it go, trash it, dump it, just say bye-bye to it.

Last year I thought I was out-smarting my laziness and refusal to dispose of trees and I bought a cheap plastic one instead. First of all, it smelled like plastic, not that awesome pine smell. And it just looked stupid. But I was able to just fold it up and put it in my outdoor storage shed, and did so before the end of January, until the next year. That would be this year.

Now it is at this point I should remind anyone who may be reading that I have the worlds most successful mother when it comes to passing on paranoia and anxiety. My mother is totally convinced that there are mice in the storage units. And she very well could be right. She is also very sure that I will contract the deadly Hanta virus from these supposed creatures that may or may not be there. And she points this out every time the subject of that damn shed comes up. I usually do a pretty good impression of the disgusted teenage daughter with my eye roll and "yeah mom, got it."

This year, Emily and I are sipping hot cocoa, listening to christmas music, and excited to decorate. I pull the tree out of storage, carefully listening for the pitter patter of little rodent feet. I pull the tree inside, set it up and we decorate. Then my mothers paranoid voice pops into my head, yet again, with the anxiety stemming from the possibility of mice in the storage. Because naturally that would mean we are all going to die from the Hanta virus. I look over to the sliding glass door and see little specs on the carpet. Oh dear god, no. Mouse poop. Little turdlets that I can only assume have fallen out of the tree and are now on my carpet, not to mention the little Hanta germies all over my hands and clothes, and Emily. So I, being rational, flip the fuck out, throw the tree on the back porch, make Emily wash her hands, strip her clothes and shower off. I vaccum about five hundred times. Emily finds one more on the carpet, picks it up and says "I found one Momma!" Ack! Noooo! Red alert! Red alert! "Emily, put that down right now and go wash your hands again!" She ignores me and instead starts laughing hysterically at me. I am confused, I can't figure out why. She puts her hand on her hip, screws up her face into her best 17 and smarter than you expression and says "Mom! This is bark dust from the plant you tripped over on the way in with the tree! Gimme a break!"

Oh. Haha. I knew that.

Now, the day after Christmas, I yet again have a tree on my back porch. It's plastic and smells bad and is sitting in the exact spot it landed when I threw it out the door in my hanta-horror. I wonder how long it will be there this year...

Confessions of a closeted 14 year old girl

So, sharing my child with her other parent is one big learning experience after another. A lesson in patience here, logic and reasoning there, and then there are times when I am just left confused as to why anyone would think certain things he does are a good idea.

Example: Letting a 5 year old watch High School Musical, Hannah Montana, Sonny With a Chance, or Grease.

Now, some of the above, such as Grease, may be a classic that we all remember singing along to growing up, however, the thing to emphasize here is that when I watched Grease, I was old to know what a virgin is, and get that they were saying Sandra D is a nerd for not going "to bed till she's legally wed", and also stable enough in my own opinions to think that was rather callous of them to sing about in public when the poor girl needed a friend. It was funny though, and catchy and overall a good movie. But. Not coming out of my sweet little girls mouth. Have you ever watched the faces of people in the grocery store when they are ogling at the fact your five year old is dancing around singing "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee, lousy with virginity, Won't go to bed till I'm legally wed, I can't, I'm Sandra Dee, Watch it, hey, I'm Doris Day, I was not brought up that way..." while she swoons over the Robert Pattinson display? It really makes people question your parenting ability at times. Actually, screw other people, it makes me question it too. It is just a little nerve-crawling, teeth-grinding inducingingly creepy to hear out of her mouth.

Let's move on to the Disney pop princesses now shall we? Now, originally, I was tolerant of Hannah Montana. The content was, while being developmentally WAY older than five years old, decent for the most part. The thing I have a problem with is the whole sending messages to my beautiful, unique little girl about how she should look and act to fit in. Because that is just bull shit. (That is also a blog topic for another time. One I do believe I have touched on in the past, here. ) The thing that really annoys me now is that they all are little rock stars in the making. With those crappy, pop, catchy songs that get stuck in my head so damn easily. Most of them most likely didn't write their own songs, probably don't know how to play the bass guitar they are clutching in that music video, and by the way, thanks for teaching a new way to waggle your hips to my tiny little dancer. (I am comforted by the fact that Emily will also croon along with Dean Martin, wail along with the Beatles, and can rock along with Ani DiFranco too)

But I have a confession to make. I secretly enjoy some of it. *gasp*. Not because I think it is GOOD, people, but because it is so easy to dance all sloppy like around my living room to. Emily and I have dance-time when we are too amped up or sad or angry or frustrated, where we turn off the lights and dance. For someone who isn't a dancer or a singer, some of this crap is really easy to move to. In private. NEVER in public. And, while I am being honest and confessing, I, against my will, get sucked into those evil little shows. It dawned on me last night as Emily and I were watching Wizards of Waverly Place (on YouTube, helping people too cheap or totally against paying for cable still get indoctrinated with the media's subtle brainwashing every day!) that I was laughing at the show! Granted, it was only a small chuckle, but it was enough to make it impossible to ignore that I was sucked into these adolescent plot lines and actually did want Sonny and Chad to FINALLY admit they like each other.

I'M DOOMED! There must be help for people like me somewhere, right? I mean, what if I can't shake it? What if I find myself late at night watching entire SEASONS of this crap, by myself? I will buy those teeny bopper magazines with the pictures of the latest, trendiest stars, and cut out pictures of my, I mean EMILY'S, favorite ones. I will purchase all of their cheaply produced albums, put them all on my ipod to bop along to everywhere I go, they will replace the Elliot Smith, the Patsy Cline, and the Weezer. (NOOoooo! Not the Weezer!) Will I end up as one of those Twilight Mom's that stormed the set of the latest greatest teen obsession to the extremity that they had to beef up on security to keep them away? I can see it now. I will just pop into Starbucks after dropping Em off at school for the day to get my non-fat no foam vanilla latte, and then on the sly, while everyone else thinks I am at a meeting, I will creep over to the super secret filming location where I meet up with my other crazed, stuck-in-their-adolesence moms. Together, in our skinny jeans and puffy jackets with fur around the collar, that we 'borrowed' out of our daughter's closets, we will stalk the stars of the show and sip latte's until we absolutely have to peel ourselves away to go pick up our children. But not before changing into our business suits and mussing our hair just enough to look like we have been stuck in a board room reviewing next year's budget. (Numbers always make my eyes glaze over and my brain go numb.) Emily will have no idea until she goes to retrieve that puffy jacket for a night out with her friends and finds the map to the set in the pocket and the magazine cut out of the hunky teenage star that will be half my age (worn at the edges and creased from gazing at it for hours on end, of course).

I can't let this happen to me! I have to get back to my bitter, "pop-culture is lame" self. I mean, I OWN SKINNY JEANS ALREADY! That is just another step closer. I must find some sort of outpatient recovery program that will prescribe hours of listening to the Pixies and Ramones, we will watch avant-garde films like Tank Girl, and sing rebellious, angry girl music around the camp fire. It may cost me the equivalent of four of those low budget bubble gum pop films, but it will be worth it in the end.

I fully intend to do this. Right after Vanessa leaves town. We have plans to see New Moon this weekend...

Don't judge. Or judge, but still LOoooOOOVe me despite my weaknesses.

Things I have learned recently

-Running on the beach? Not glamorous. The wind nearly and literally took my breath away until I felt definite lack of oxygen things happening.

-Running with my hair in a ponytail? I get secret joy out of feeling the swish of it back and forth. I know, it's silly, but it is one of those things that bring me small joy.

-My daughter may secretly be a wood nymph. Or something like that.

-The idea of a vacation outside of Oregon excites me.

-Most of the unbidden spiritual moments in my life, ever, have taken place in the woods, near water. I am thankful for the opportunity to experience such things and shall remember this next time I feel the need for spiritual retreat.

*toot* goes my own horn.

So, now that I am all awesome and not paying attention to watching the stop watch as much on my runs I am noticing all sorts of things. Like the pavement that has every tenth of a mile marked with spray paint. And you know what? I ran two and half miles tonight! Now, to some, that may not sound like a whole lot, but to someone who has spent most of her life telling herself she is weak, that is fucking awesome! I had no idea I was running that much. Upon returning home my mom asked how it went because I didn't look winded at all like I usually do.

Go. ME.