Diane 12/30/14 Diane 12/30/14

2014 and 40

2014 brought my 40th year. 40. I am not sure what it is about that number that acts as a reset button for many. But I guess in some ways, for me, it has. This past year isn't exactly one I would put on repeat if had a choice. In late February my brain broke, as I've just come to call it, without (despite no less than 5 well-educated opinons) real explanation and that in itself allowed for a lot of time to sit back and reflect. I realize I've grieved this year, not the loss of a human, but of ideals we hold onto forever. The grieving and eventual acceptance of certain things has brought about a sense of calm.

I grieved the idea of a perfect family, where everyone returns "home" and stuffs themselves full of Mom's cooking and all the cousins play monopoly quietly and politely. The adults converse of politics and stocks over spiked egg nog, as Andy Williams voice fills the home.

I grieved the loss of the perfect children, those who always remember to say please and thank you, and go to bed precisely when asked. Who complete assignments and remember to hand them in on time and practice piano without asking.

I grieved the loss of the body that is firm, unscarred and perky. A body that moves painlessly and quickly. It is tan and unwrinkled; it is youthful.

40 brought me to acceptance. I think many may interchange acceptance with approval but it is not. Some very wise and beautiful people helped me come to understand acceptance for what it is this past year, and it is just that: to accept. It is like the bow of a present. You can not get to what lies underneath or the intent of the giver or even the gift without first taking off the bow. You may think the bow is hideous and squashed or uneven, torn or tattered, but it is still a bow. And you still have to look at it, and even touch it and deal with it before moving on. By accepting a sitution, circumstance, or event you have paused to look at the bow. You have paused to take a deep breath, acknowledge what is or is not in your power and then move forward.

I came to terms that any flame of hope of a "perfect" family was extinquished with a last breath on a snowy morning 11 years ago. The reality is my Mom's death fractured our family. And with any fracture, they can heal but scars can remain. The truth is she was a self-admitted poor cook and we really only looked forward to her green bean casserole, and no-one even likes egg-nog. I've accepted that we are far from any Normal Rockwell painting, and that is really ok. I've accepted that "family" comes in many forms and sometimes, oftentimes, family comes in the forms of a red-headed italian or a full-of-love banker or an opinionated stressed-out CPA. And I've come to accept that family can be established from the entity from which we are born as well as those relationships which we choose to be around.

My kids are who they are and instead of being so worried about raising good kids, I've decided to accept they are good kids. Perfect? Heck no. But they are not little asshats either. The oldest will almost always forget to say "thank you" but is the first to cheer for everyone and anyone in any competition. He is clumsy like a black lab puppy but is emotionally jarred when he witnesses someone being cruelly or unjustly treated. My middle would rather chew on glass than admit she was wrong, yet has this uncanny ability to say exactly what I need to hear, when I most need to hear it; she tenderly gives self-worth building statements that are far more profound than her mere 7 years on earth should produce. The youngest has a hugely annoying habit of burying socks in the dirt pile and a far too great of a desire to go commando, but his comedic timing is on par with those that actually made SNL funny in the day. They are not perfect, nor do I want them to be. And I've realized that as I look around at my own home and note what I love and bring me comfort are those things that are weathered, flawed, aged and have a story. This is what I want my kids to grow into; loved pieces that are not perfect but what stories they will tell!

And my body? I'm at the point I can look back fondly at my 20-something body, like one does about a great summer memory. It was good, it was fun, and it will never be again. I can also look forward to those Greatest Generationists that have maintained their health and strive to be like them. I've come to accept it will always be a little squishy, it will be beautifully flawed from surgerys that gave rise to my 3 precious gifts and I am ok with that. I'm at peace because it still works. I can still move and play with my kids. I can dance with my husband. I can still ski behind a boat and watch my kids cheer when I cut a wake and erupt in laughter when I wipe out. It still works, and for that I am not only hugely accepting, but grateful.

I've come to realize the beauty of acceptance. I am grateful to those who guided me along this learning process, because it really is freeing. As i close this year with a heart full of love and gratitude, I wish you all a very beautiful, happy and healthy 2015!

Diane 11/21/14 Diane 11/21/14

Infrequently Asked Questions

So the other day, my fellow blogger over at Is there Cheese in It tagged me to answer some really important questions! So here goes...

1. What made you decide to get into blogging?

I kept having these amazing essays write themselves while on my long runs while training for half marathons and eventually my marathon. It may have been the lactic acid delirium, but I thought I was profound and witty so I decided to put them on paper... or at least on the web.

2. How has it impacted your life?

mmmm.... It has helped me put in some kind of record, things I would eventually want my kids to know about life, love and leggings if I were rammed by my goat tomorrow and suffered a head injury or something. I am not as regular as I would like to be, but the reality is I know I can't force the word... they come when they come, in a rapid-don't-bother-me-I-need-to-get-this-recorded-now-despite-it's-2:30am-now form. The comments and statements from a variety of people (ages, moms, retired people) has boosted my self confidence a bit.

3. How do you manage to work blogging into your schedule?

WHat schedule? Ok, ok... usually somewhere between 10pm-1am. I am a night owl thru and thru and when I get writing, the walls could be burning down and I don't care much. I need to get the words out.

4. What's your favorite non-blogging "me-time" activity?

Stepping over the big chunks on the kitchen floor, frantically searching for matching socks at 8am, and upcycling existing clothing into funky little girls clothing.

5. If you could be anything in the world, what would you be? (Could be a profession, an inanimate object, an animal...sky's the limit!)

One of my spoiled rotten cats. They spend the entire winter (Which here in the great white north is like 9 months) camped in front of the fireplace.

ANd then there was another set.....

1. If you had to listen to a song on repeat all day today, which would you choose?

Oh this is tough....and I can't answer honestly... but I will say I have listened to Taylor Swifts 1989 album about 35 times in the last week and a half. Don't judge.

2. If you wrote a book on parenting (that evil genre), what would the title be?

Welcome to Chaos! Check your sanity at the door.

3. What is your spirit animal?
Which animal likes to eat? A lot? All day long?

4. What are three of your favorite words?

Douchebaggery, asshat, gigantor

5. Disneyland - Yay or Nay?

Hell yes!! We just took the fam there for the first time last May and it was fantastic!!

***

4 comments:

Brandyn BlazeNovember 19, 2014 at 10:34 AM

Thank you for taking me up on this challenge!

I would totally prefer to do my reading on a sunny beach with an adult beverage as well, maybe we should plan a trip together. We can tell people it's a highly exclusive blog conference and make all our friends think we're moving up in the world. :-)

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Sarah LillianNovember 19, 2014 at 10:46 AM

Haha. Love this post. Grilled cheese sandwich would totally be an excellent spirit animal. Speaking of, I had grilled cheese sandwiches (yes, plural... I'm currently 9 months knocked up) and tomato soup for dinner last night, but I may just have to pull a repeat and have the same for lunch here in a hot minute. But with more cheese on the sandwiches this time, I tried to be reasonable with my cheese allocation last night but that was a dumb decision and I was slightly disappointed with the result.
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Diane 9/26/14 Diane 9/26/14

Jesus and Bill

I don't know a lot but there are a few things I know for certain. I know if you mistake a salt canister for sugar canister, your cheesecake will taste, well, salty. I know if the stars align, and both Congress and the Pope allow you to plan you a girls day, you will awaken that morning to the warm feeling of vomit from a child in your bed. I know that Transformer toys require a PhD to transform.

Yeah.... right......

I know that being human is very very easy, and being Christlike is very hard.

A couple weeks ago I listened to a great sermon about forgiveness. The overall message was that Christ tells us to forgive seven times seven, or essentially endlessly. I found myself thinking, "But what about...." and "Yeah, but...." or "What about forgetting? Do I need to forget too?"

That is the thing about Jesus. He was a pretty cool dude. I mean, he loved and loved, forgave and forgave some more. He did everything that is completely counter to our natural human behavior. We, as humans, can be so primal. We get mad, we react. We are wronged, we want revenge. We are hurt, we blanket ourselves in that hurt, keeping it wrapped around us like a Snuggy for all to see. Imagine if we strive to be more Christ-like, or less goat-like...

Yes, I said goat-like. Stick with me. I know not everyone is Christian, or even a believer in any higher power, but everyone believes in goats. They are real, you can touch them, you can hear and even smell them. I've learned a lot by watching Bill, my goat. If he is mad, he bellers and hollers, and will even honk at me. If he is jealous he will butt the dog. If he is lonely, he will prevent me from leaving by cutting off my walking path. If he does not want to walk, he will.not.walk. Bill and I share similar emotions, but I do not have to share his behaviors. Thankfully I have a brain that is bigger than a walnut, and I can choose my behaviors. But, that is the tricky thing about being human. We really have to WANT to act higher, better, more Christ-like (or less goat-like.) The desire has to be strong enough to override the natural tendency to act impulsively like Bill.

Learning to respond to life, like Jesus (not like Bill) can sometimes be very difficult. It may require retraining yourself from very old behaviors that you have had since you were a child. It may be painful as you process some events that formed your behaviors. It may depend upon you evaluation of things you have always known as "truth" because that is what you were told. It may require establishing healthy boundaries and a large amount of self-awareness, but it can be done. If my walnut-brained goat can be taught to answer me when I call his name, we as humans can learn different behavioral responses.

And why does it matter? I mean in the end, we will always be sinful humans and Bill will always be a goat, right? Because of the pain, that is why. Bill, in his impulsiveness, doesn't intend pain, but a goat hoof to a foot hurts. Because him refusing to move, because he does.not.want.to.move, is exhausting. When we react primitively to hurt, jealousy, or being wronged, it creates more pain. Pain to us and pain to the wrong doer. It perpetuates and grows and is exhausting. And it matters because we are flawed, we are human, and we mess up. But by striving to be more like Jesus (less like Bill) maybe the book of what is acceptable behavior can slowly be rewritten. Because the journey that comes with attempting to be a better human being is worth it, to yourself and to others.

We are better than goats. We are. We may not all be as amusing as them, but we are better. If you can not ask yourself "What would Jesus do?" then ask yourself "What would Bill not do."

Diane 9/5/14 Diane 9/5/14

The Unspoken Threat Among Us.

There is a sweeping danger that is going unspoken of, with nearly no attention drawn toward it. There is no one dumping water on their heads for this cause or putting jello down their pants to raise awareness of this threat. Many do not realize that me, myself, am a casuality of this danger, and I now realize it is my duty to raise awareness and possibly create a solution for this evergrowing problem. The threat I am referring to is Driving with Kids.

Driving with Kids begins silently. In fact, one may even forget they are present in the car, until you are reminded of their presence by the sound of a watery, liquid laden explosion followed by ear-shattering crying. The jolt of the smell and the sound can startle a sleep deprived mom out of her semi-comatose state resulting in her realization that she has sat through 3 green lights and the horns she was hearing were not her personal tribute of 25 or 6 to 4 by Chicago.

A Mom's head is in grave danger in Driving with Kids. The back of a Mom's head is the target of shock and awe between flying sippee cups, Lightning McQueens, pacifiers, bottles and Thomas and his damn friends. Her vision is equally at risk. She may experience great visual field impairments by floating Applebees balloons, flung scarves, mittens and hats, and sunglasses that have previously been used as a teething toy.

Driving with Kids can create a myriade of symptoms for a Mother. Some examples are:

A: Her brain feels as though it is in a blender

B: Her desire to have 3 more arms so she can multitask the specific song selections of "Everything is Awesome" "Let it Go" and "Who let the Dogs out?" from the iPhone

C: An overwhelming curiousity to see the actual strength of duct tape

D: Sudden knowledge of the entire Frozen movie dialogue, in French. And Spanish.

E: Her acceptance that children never run out of words, to say, at the same time. Ever.

F: Torn shoulder muscles from reaching behind her, while driving,to retrieve a pacifier from under her own seat

Prolonged driving with kids can result in tremors, twitches, and rocking silently in a corner, while sucking on her thumb.

Little is known about the permanent affects of Driving with Kids, but research has shown the following to have reduced some of the symptoms:

A: Wine, Beer and/or Whiskey

B: The ability to pee and poop, alone, with the bathroom door locked, at least once a week.

E: Completion of one People Magazine or US Weekly in one sitting.

F: Chocolate, cheesecake or chocolate cheesecake.

G: Any show on TLC or HGTV, except for Honey Boo Boo, which is contraindicated.

F: Transferring driving duties to the Father. However, studies are suggesting that males succumb to the affects of Driving with Kids 96% faster than females. Proceed cautiously.

It is known that Driving with Kids can last years. Currently, the estimated affects last between 14-16 years, but can be replaced with a secondary condition called Riding with Driving Kids. More research on this area is pending, but early reports are this condition brings as severe of symptoms as Driving with Kids.

It is time to raise awareness. Millions of women are struggling with this debilitating condition, and are too afraid to reach out for help. I am hoping by stepping from the dustbunny laden shadows of my own world I can help others come forward. There is strength in numbers. While we will never eradicate Driving with Kids, knowing others share our struggles strengthen us all. To Moms everywhere, behind the wheel, I raise my to-go mug of coffee to you. Stay strong and keep on keeping on!

*Disclaimer: This is called satire. Please don't get up in my junk about it being sexist or making light of texting and driving or anything like that. It is written in jest (kind of) and meant to make you smile. Enjoy!*