"love your life"
I don't know if that was the entire quote or not, but they are the words I saw scrawled across the shoulders of a woman at the gym earlier this week. They struck a chord. They hit me deep.
I have enjoyed my life for the most part. Many times, though, I have found myself resenting moving away from my family and friends, or hating that we don't have a six-digit income. I've gotten angry because I can't keep up with the dog hair or the toys that overrun the first level of our home. And while those things seem like negatives, I have mostly enjoyed my life.
Enjoyed. Not loved.
I have frequently failed to understand that loving my life doesn't mean I am supposed to enjoy every aspect of it, but rather as a whole love it for all of the experiences, the joys as well as the trials and tribulations, that have come my way.
As far as I'm concerned — and I'm merely one person and one opinion — loving something means you are passionate about it, and I am definitely passionate about my life. I'm finally starting to understand that as I've had a chance to reflect on the things I truly am "passionate" about. The things I live for and love. Naturally, my top two are my babies and my husband. Then coffee.
Well ... some days coffee is the very top of the list. OK. A lot of days. Man, I love coffee!
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Dear June, a little inspiration please
June Cleaver, I am not.
But, damn it, I try real hard.
Since making the decision to stay home and focus on raising our babies, things have been less than perfect in my mind, though. I seem to apologize to Boy Wonder on an almost daily basis. Envision this scenario:
He walks through the front door and is immediately met with, "I didn't get a chance to pick up the living room. Dinner is cold. I kicked the dog and drank all the beer. Today SUCKS!" (OK, I didn't actually drink the beer, but some days it definitely crosses my mind ... a lot.) And then I stomp off because he says, "It's OK. You think I'm worried about it and I'm not," instead of commiserating with me or getting upset.
My husband is freaking amazing and ridiculously laid back a majority of the time. He gives me the time I need to be pissed off at my lack of organization, letting me rant and rave about all the things on my "to do" list that haven't gotten done and then when the kids are in bed we pick up the house together, he sets up the coffee maker and I get a few hours of restless sleep.
But, damn it, I try real hard.
Since making the decision to stay home and focus on raising our babies, things have been less than perfect in my mind, though. I seem to apologize to Boy Wonder on an almost daily basis. Envision this scenario:
He walks through the front door and is immediately met with, "I didn't get a chance to pick up the living room. Dinner is cold. I kicked the dog and drank all the beer. Today SUCKS!" (OK, I didn't actually drink the beer, but some days it definitely crosses my mind ... a lot.) And then I stomp off because he says, "It's OK. You think I'm worried about it and I'm not," instead of commiserating with me or getting upset.
My husband is freaking amazing and ridiculously laid back a majority of the time. He gives me the time I need to be pissed off at my lack of organization, letting me rant and rave about all the things on my "to do" list that haven't gotten done and then when the kids are in bed we pick up the house together, he sets up the coffee maker and I get a few hours of restless sleep.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Calmed by the chaos
"Please don't hit the dog with your carrot!"
As parents, we often utter — and overhear — phrases that are totally off the wall when not in context of certain situations. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would say those words in that order in one breath. Ever. But, I said it this morning thanks to the current youngest goober in the family.
Charlotte has been trying for 10 months to cut teeth, only succeeding so far to have two bottom pearly whites pop through. Since she likes to chew on anything she can to ease the pain, I washed up a carrot while making soup and handed it to her to gnaw on. She started off nibbling gently. Then promptly chomped down on it, got pissed off because her face hurt and started beating our Lab mix, Bailey, in the head with said carrot. Naturally, she was screaming and the tears started flowing as though the dog had been the one hitting her instead of the opposite.
Things like this are always happening in our house. Josie tries to ride on her sister like a pony, or climb on Bailey in an attempt to further her chances of being a professional bull rider later in life, and in an attempt to stop someone from getting hurt we catch ourselves saying the most ridiculous things. The only surefire result is a fit of laughter in most cases. Unless, of course, someone actually has gotten hurt.
As parents, we often utter — and overhear — phrases that are totally off the wall when not in context of certain situations. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would say those words in that order in one breath. Ever. But, I said it this morning thanks to the current youngest goober in the family.
Charlotte has been trying for 10 months to cut teeth, only succeeding so far to have two bottom pearly whites pop through. Since she likes to chew on anything she can to ease the pain, I washed up a carrot while making soup and handed it to her to gnaw on. She started off nibbling gently. Then promptly chomped down on it, got pissed off because her face hurt and started beating our Lab mix, Bailey, in the head with said carrot. Naturally, she was screaming and the tears started flowing as though the dog had been the one hitting her instead of the opposite.
Things like this are always happening in our house. Josie tries to ride on her sister like a pony, or climb on Bailey in an attempt to further her chances of being a professional bull rider later in life, and in an attempt to stop someone from getting hurt we catch ourselves saying the most ridiculous things. The only surefire result is a fit of laughter in most cases. Unless, of course, someone actually has gotten hurt.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
The "to do" conundrum
My "to do" list is never ending. Literally.
Each time I cross something off I seem to add two more things. Excluding the usual chores — vacuum, dust, dishes, etc. — there are probably a dozen other things I wanted to get done this week alone and yet they haven't been crossed off.
It's a horrible affliction, this list of mine, and I've fallen into a rut. The list is getting so long it overwhelms me some days and then nothing gets done other than diaper changes and meals.
So, I added "drink wine" at the bottom; it's something I should have done weeks ago. I figured including alcohol would make it easier for me to get things done around the house, use it as an incentive to bust my ass and feel a little more accomplished in my new-ish role of stay-at-home mom and housewife.
Each time I cross something off I seem to add two more things. Excluding the usual chores — vacuum, dust, dishes, etc. — there are probably a dozen other things I wanted to get done this week alone and yet they haven't been crossed off.
It's a horrible affliction, this list of mine, and I've fallen into a rut. The list is getting so long it overwhelms me some days and then nothing gets done other than diaper changes and meals.
So, I added "drink wine" at the bottom; it's something I should have done weeks ago. I figured including alcohol would make it easier for me to get things done around the house, use it as an incentive to bust my ass and feel a little more accomplished in my new-ish role of stay-at-home mom and housewife.
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