OTHER

I haven't been crossing much off my lists of things to do lately.  There is a stack of mail a mile high on my desk.  There is something frightening hiding in the back of the top corner of my refrigerator.  I have laundry that is now folded thanks to my mother who was here with my kids for a couple hours the other day, but it's still sitting on the couch because I just haven't decided to put it away yet.

But there are other things that I have started to sort of cross off on a different list.  This list is not like any other "to-do" list.  It is not a bucket list.  It is not a list of things we all have to do.  It is a list of things that I have always wanted to do and just never have for whatever reason.

Starting a blog and a photography business is one of them.

Spending the morning rummaging through little unique shops in South Haven is another.

My favorite so far is the book I've started writing, although I'm a little worried about my accuracy in some of it and so I've got to talk to people who have been through what I'm writing about.

I took a picture of a butterfly yesterday when my husband took our sons fishing.  This butterfly was alone as far as I could tell, but not in a sad way.  It was sort of beautifully traveling on this little adventure experiencing things, stopping here and there, and enjoying the day.  I think we all have our own little journeys...I mean that is what life is really.

There is not one single person that will be with you from the day you are born until the day you die.  The closest thing we have to that is our siblings, and even they have separate lives and journeys.  So while we aren't really alone, there is this massive list of things we have done or want to do in our lives that are solely ours, and I bet it would be impossible that you'd find any two people with identical lists.  Not every butterfly can fly the same path through their whole lives....right?

I've been reading a lot and I've seen something in support circles for grieving parents where they talk about where they are in this moment, and being okay with how they feel and the way they act.  I am extremely grateful that I didn't have a "moment" to share regarding grief...every single one I read, from a mother one week after the loss of her baby to a woman who lost hers two and a half years ago and has since had another healthy baby, was heart wrenching.  I can not imagine.  But just this act of sharing their moments with each other seemed to help and inspire them.

So in a similar manner, I'm hoping to do a little inspiration sharing here...I want to know if anyone out there has something they have always wanted to do and how they are going to go about crossing it off their list.  It's a project I'm going to call "In OTHER Words", and tell me what your mission is and how you will complete it.  Hopefully this will get your ball rolling and inspire me to keep my momentum.

On the left of the blog there is a space to enter your name and a link to your own blog or note (assuming I've gotten it working correctly...uh oh.)  Anyway, if you would like to participate, please share!  

Be brave...you have to leave the cocoon sooner or later if you ever want to fly.

BROOD

My mom used to say it doesn't matter how many kids you have... because one kid'll take up 100% of your time so more kids can't possibly take up more than 100% of your time.  ~Karen Brown

My husband and I spent the night in the nearby town of South Haven, Michigan to celebrate our anniversary.  When we woke up, we ate a crappy breakfast at the hotel we stayed at, stopped for some delicious coffee at the South Bend Chocolate Company, and then went for a walk on the pier.  As I peered over the edge, I spotted a mother mallard duck and her brood.  (I used to think mallard ducks were only males...but Google has taught me this is not so!  A male mallard duck is called a drake.)

This mother duck had essentially the same thing that I have: two adorable little creatures following me around.


Female mallard ducks, once they have chosen a mate, not only select their breeding site but actually take it upon themselves to be solely responsible for construction of the nest.


She lays her eggs one per day, usually not more than nine, and after the last egg is laid, incubation begins.  If the nest should become destroyed, she may re-nest up to three or four times, but each time she has to do so she would lay less eggs due to lack of energy.  (Imagine that!)  


The incubation period lasts between 22 and 28 days, during which she sheds feathers from her belly to keep the eggs warm and protect them from predators.  


When the eggs hatch, she will wait until they are dry and immediately lead them to the nearest water source.  Ducklings are one of the creatures in nature that practice imprinting, in which the first moving object they see is looked at as their parent, and they will mimic it's behavior.  Mother ducks stop frequently to count her young and if they become threatened by a predator, she will pretend to be injured by flapping and squawking, which will successfully distract the predator from her young.


Once they have reached the water, she will lead them to feeding sources where they will catch their own food.  After two short months of life her ducklings will be ready for flight.

I wondered how a mother duck with nine in her brood manages to keep them all safe, fed, clean, and happy.  This mother duck had it easy!  She only had two!  

I sometimes wonder how I'll manage once my new addition arrives in November, mostly only when people tell me how crazy I am for having three children age three and under.  And then I remember, I had no idea how I was going to manage one baby.  And then I had no idea how I was going to manage his younger brother.  And I'm sure everything will be okay, because I was designed to do this.  Life can't possibly get any more hectic, bizarre, and sticky than it already is.  

But it can still get better.

 




Duck info from www.northwestwildlife.com

NORMAL

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my wedding.  It was a beautiful, hot day, and I don't know where time has gone. 

Back then, it was normal for my day to consist of getting out of bed late, enjoying an uninterrupted shower, going to work with no one's bodily fluids on my clothing, eating a breakfast I don't have to share at my desk, lunching with friends, and then a nice quiet evening with my husband where he watched television with foul language and I read a Jane Austen book.

Funny how things change.

After five years and two kids, it is not out of the ordinary for a Cheeto to go whizzing past my ear as I'm trying to change a diaper and keep dinner from getting burnt.  Coincidentally, you wouldn't think it possible for a bowl of Cheerios to become charred, but life with two boys can affect things in ways you never expected. 

I don't give it a second thought that my floor is covered with an inch thick layer of ground up goldfish crackers, or that I found a Batman in the refrigerator.  Why spend time worrying about these things when if I only get ten minutes of "me" time a day, I should probably use it to shower, eat, and go potty.  And to write that novel I've been thinking of.

I found fresh puke on a Tupperware lid on the floor in my kitchen this morning.  Judging by what it consisted of, I'd guess it was Hanson's, but on a day like today, anything is possible.  When a crash erupted from their bedroom while I was struggling to find a clean shirt, I didn't rush down the hallway.  I waited for a cry.  There was none.  It was all too quiet which meant they were either badly hurt or that they had accomplished whatever mission it is that they had set out to complete.  They were fine...the room is another story. 

When I cuddle on the couch with them and someone falls asleep, I wind up with this wedgie of epic proportions that I simply put up with out of fear that if I move they will awaken.  And then when I fall asleep as well I am startled into consciousness by my two year old vaulting off of the arm and onto my shins.

This is my new normal. 

I know every word to the Hot Dog Song (and if you have to ask what that is you'd probably rather not know).  I can tell what time of day it is by whether or not I see Mickey, Handy Manny, or Cat In the Hat on tv.  I regularly have someone else eating off of my plate and I read books like, "Where the Wild Things Are" and "If You Give a Moose a Muffin."

I used to have a lot of spare time and I used to have adult conversations.  But I didn't have the love of two of the most precious people on this planet.  Life with just my husband and me was great, but it only got better. 

Before, it was normal to go to bed with only one kiss and one person to tell "I love you".  Now I get at least six kisses and I hear "I love you BIGGGG MUCH." 

I actually feel sad for people who think that money and free time are much more enjoyable, because until you love a child (and notice I didn't say have...you can feel this awesomeness with any child you know, it's just even more awesome when they are yours, whether biological or not) you have experienced just how full of joy you can be.  People say that Disney World is the happiest place on Earth, but obviously they don't know what I have.  Even on our worst days, we're still smiling. 

So thank you, Hubs, for five years, two and a half kids, and for my new normal.

CONSPICOUS

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.  ~e.e. cummings

Recently while getting ready for an overnight "Scrapathon", which I'll explain in a minute, I found a treasure chest of artwork, certificates, and old exams from all my years through school.

While I am extremely proud of the grades I made and the awards and accomplishments I attained, the single biggest smile while rummaging through this stack of craziness crossed my face when I found a drawing of myself from second grade, entitled:

"How I would be Conspicuous."

It is written on that off-white paper with the blue lines on it that we all learn to write on, and in the picture I'd drawn, my hair is half pink, half green, and the sun is shining directly on me.  There are hearts and flowers in the air and my eyes are blue.  

I go on to describe how my hair would be multi-colored and that I would stand out from the crown and wear red shoes.

I have no memory of actually creating this masterpiece.

I it is very obvious, however, that I don't intend to "just be like everyone else".

I find it even more entertaining that in second grade I could correctly spell "conspicuous" and yet Mrs. Tapper had to write "spray" in red ink above where I'd written "sprae".

But I find great comfort in knowing that I've always found a way to be myself and that it's always been my goal to be a little different from those around me.  I find great value in peoples' differences.

Back to that "Scrapathon", which I would describe as an epic overnight extravaganza filled with friends, food, scrapbooking, and LOTS of laughter. 

This discovery of all of the things that make me, "ME",

(A short list:
A geometry exam in which I received 35 of 30 possible points, got the extra credit!
A packet explaining my nomination for The Principal's Leadership Award.
Several essays with notes penciled in from seriously the FINEST English teachers known to the education system...thank you Mrs. Teske and Mrs. McKeeby and Mrs. Parish (LOL) for that!  I love reading your notes still.
Various notes from my Latin teacher, Magistra Miller, which when I read them somehow in my head the words sound exactly as she would have said them.
Silly things like "Love Matches" from Spanish club fundraisers and notes from CandyGrams and things that only a high school student would give much thought to.
Thank God I saved all this, if only for the entertainment purposes.)

has me considering a scrapbook of things about me, so that someday my kids can look at it and either love it or at least chuckle at my silliness, but ultimately my hope is that in at least some of what's in there they might see a little bit of themselves, and they might realize where they learned that it is perfectly acceptable and normal to want to be conspicuous. 

IDEA

"Have you any idea how many kids it takes to turn off one light in the kitchen?  Three.  It takes one to say, "What light?" and two more to say, "I didn't turn it on." - Erma Bombeck  A few different people now have asked me where I get my ideas for what I'm going to write about or what picture I might use.  The answer is not that I sit quietly at a desk all the live-long day thinking them up. I usually just go about my normal day to day routine, and all of a sudden my brain is forming the sentences and paragraphs, even spell checking. Great ideas don't have to be meticulously planned out, thought about for days and hours, approved by committees or voted into being.  (And I didn't say all my ideas are good....please refer to the melted door to our microwave for example...too long of a story to share here.) They just need one person who can visualize what they are thinking and share it with the world, or the three people that might see it on Facebook that day. Great ideas are really a lot like bad ideas....they just sort of happen.  Who among us can say we wake up in the morning and tell ourselves we plan to inadvertently ruin a perfectly good microwave?  I definitely didn't.  I just got an idea about cleaning it (Wasn't this story too long to share?  What am I doing?) and forgot that I also had a pot of boiling water on the stove...one push of the door too far open and now it's brown and warped and looks like something toxic happened.  Which, in this house, is not out of the realm of possibility. Similarly, not many people wake up one day planning on creating genius works of art or writing award winning books or losing fifty pounds and actually make it happen.  (Of course, people do plan to do these things, but an "idea" and an action are two separate entities.  Most plans do not go "according to plan"...or else there would be many many many many more novelists, rock starts, artists, and skinny people in the world.) A great idea isn't just about THINKING something.  It is about having a thought, and doing it.  You can think all day long about going potty, but unless you are Harry flippin' Potter I doubt it's magically going to happen in the way that would be most hygienic. I know you have great ideas.  Don't just think them.  Do them.   Don't wait for someone else to agree that it's a fantastic idea.  Don't stop if someone tells you it's a horrible idea.  You don't need permission to like your own thoughts or actions.  You don't need permission to like yourself.   You are a great idea.

WEED

If you feed it, it will grow.

Lately, there has been a lot of talk around here about undesired things.
Random objects we don't use anymore, bad habits, and negative people.

The thing is, they don't just go away.  You have to throw them out, stop doing them, or delete them from your Facebook/life.


If you wake up having a bad day, and you feed into that energy, it will undoubtedly turn into a day of horrors as large as the man I saw eating two Whoppers and some other unknown sandwich last week in the Burger King play place.

However, if you weed out the bad, it simply can't keep living.  Unless it replants itself in some other yard (life) and takes up roots there.  But you regain control of your own garden.


You can plant what you like.  You can reap what you sow.  You can water and care and facilitate as masterfully as Martha friggin' Stewart.  But I'm guessing a weed or two will still find a way to sneak in.  And they will stay there, unless you forcibly remove them.


And if you don't, and you keep feeding and watering and facilitating your plants, those weeds will grow too, right along with their neighbors.


It's not always easy to figure out the difference between a weed and a flower/tomato plant/former friend.


Sometimes, you just have to go with your gut and ask what purpose is served by this piece of vegetation/person.


I can personally think of one particular person who really was serving me no purpose.  She wasn't even being nice.  I don't know if she thought she was funny or if she really just thinks she is that much better than everyone else, but I deleted her a while back.  I don't say hi when I see her, I don't ask mutual friends how she is doing, I simply weeded her out.  My instinct was confirmed when just a couple weeks ago one of our mutual friends was really hurt by something this woman did....and I can only be thankful I didn't stress over removing her from my life.  People like this really aren't worth it.  


What's sad about this isn't that I lost a friend.  Because when I really think about it...she never was a friend to me.  I was a friend to her.  And now I'm not.  So the sad part is that SHE lost a friend...and not to toot my own horn, but a good friend.  If she continues with her nastiness, I believe she might find herself very alone very soon.  The problem with being a weed all the time is that no one has room for you next to their flowers.


You sort of wind up alone, in the midst of a bunch of other weeds.


My point is, don't sit around letting life/crabgrass/people get you down.  If they aren't improving the garden, weed them out and move on, and enjoy the fruits of your labor.

 

CRUNCH

So you might have noticed I've been a bit, well, absent lately. 

At some point in the last week I developed a life.  Which isn't to say that I didn't participate in life before that.  I guess what I mean is that when it rains, it pours.  Things I needed to do just started climbing out of the woodwork and I found myself lacking the normal amount of allotted "blogercize" each day.  So I'm skipping the past week and, fully inspired, starting fresh today.

I realized over the past week that any need or want I have for something actually exists only in my head. 

I need a million dollars. 

While this would make life a little easier, perhaps, I seem to have managed a rock star lifestyle and plenty of good times for the past 27 years without actually possessing a million dollars.

I need at least 28 hours a day, and Saturdays need 34.

Picasso, Mozart, Oprah, and Anne Hathaway have all accomplished a great deal on the carefully rationed 24 hours that each human being gets in a day, so I should be able to also live my dreams and have time to make dinner and have a fresh coat of polish applied to my toes each week.

I need a nap.

My two year old can resist naps at all cost and still manage to reserve enough energy to tame a wild horse.

I want some damn chocolate.

It will only increase the size of my ass, which I do not want or need.  Major dilemma. 

Are you following me?  There are literally hundreds of things in this life that we claim to need or want that we really don't if we just think about it.

We just need to make better choices with the time, money, sleep, or calorie allowance we do have.

I can't say that a time crunch didn't contribute to my non-blogging week, but it isn't really any one's fault but my own.  I spent too much time crossing things off of a list of to-dos that were really written for me by other people...and I have to stop doing that to myself.  Shouldn't my own list come first, and that way when a crunch occurs, it's not what I want that gets crunched out?

Sure, other people are important, but when we're talking about needs and wants, our own should be a priority too.

If you started reading this thinking, I really need more money, or time, or coffee, then what I am saying is that you really don't if you're living life right.

Have you heard that little comparison about how life is like a box?  And there is only so much room in the box, and it's up to you to decide what you have room for in your box? 

The same thing goes for each day. 
The same thing goes for your wallet. 
The same thing goes for your stomach. 
The same thing goes for your to-do list. 

Figure out what you must have in your box, and then forget about what there isn't room for.

That way you won't crunch anything when trying to close the lid.

SUNDAY

Sundays are my day to just be.  No matter what I have going on, I find that I am most at my normal, relaxed, uncomplicated self on Sundays.  There is something about a Sunday that just makes me feel comfortable.

It does not matter if the sun is shining.

It does not matter if where I am or who I am with.

The clothes I have on and the state of my hair and make up have no impact.

I simply feel like me, no matter what is going on or who is around.

One of my favorite quotes is, "To thine own self be true," which is from Hamlet.

In other words, be who and what you are.

I find this easiest to do on Sundays.  Maybe it's because I spend the rest of the week being what everyone else needs me to be or wants me to be.  It could be that I have so many roles to play that finding "me" and being that person gets harder and harder. 

But Sundays always seem to bring me back to my t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, ponytail, chap stick, laying on the couch reading a book and eating a bowl of cereal self.  I don't remember choosing to be this way, but as Elizabeth Lyons says, "Bloom where you are planted."

Just be what you are.  Even if you have to wait until Sunday to do it.

SATURDAY

Saturdays, I realized, are my day of options.  I always have A MILLION things I could do/work on/attempt/ignore on Saturdays.  But alas, there are only 24 hours to fit these things into and some things just don't fit. 

{Am I the only person alive who believes Saturday needs at least a ten hour extension for practicality purposes?}

Anyway, if you look at this picture, there are five different slides in view that you could ride on.  

I would equate my normal Saturday as being at this park and someone telling me I'm only allowed to pick two slides, when all five of them appear decidedly fun, unique, and worth my time and effort.

I guess the secret to a successful Saturday is enjoying the slide you have time for, with the knowledge and hope that you can come back next Saturday to try the others.

Or, if you are like my son, you can whiz through each slide proving that time can't stop you, and if you do it right you just might have time for the swings too. 

FRIDAY

Finally. 

Friday.  I can relax.

Why do Fridays always just have that relaxed feeling, like things are just a bit more carefree and fun than they were just a few short hours ago on Thursday?

I guess it doesn't really matter.  All that matters is that when Friday hits, you find a place to relax....whether that's watching a game of some sort, or having dinner with friends, or some comfy pajamas and a couch (or in my case all of the above).  We had some friends over to watch the game, and I was so relaxed I may as well have been napping in the sun on a soft piece of grass.

And, after Friday, anything can happen.  We'll see what this weekend brings. 

THURSDAY

Thursday is when everything comes together.  You're mostly done with what you had on your "to-do list" for the week and your weekend plans are heating up.  Who doesn't wake up excited on Thursday?  Thursday is also our most likely night for family together time, and this week we spent the evening watching Landon dump half a bottle of Parmesan onto a piece of pizza at Fazoli's and then went to Gander Mountain and Michael's.  I'll let you decide which store was for me and which store was for my husband. 

No matter how you look at it, you just can't be mad at Thursday.  I cannot recall a single bad day in my life ever occurring on a Thursday.  And, after all, when it's over, that means it is finally Friday.

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday is my day of progression.  After all that happens on Tuesday it would be easy to lose the wind in your sails.  But I know that it's Wednesday, I'm one day closer to the weekend, so if I just keep going I'll get there.  Kind of like this leaf in my front yard that is in the Wednesday stage of it's bloom:

You can look at Wednesday either as a meaningless day in the middle of the week with mediocre prime time television shows, or, you can look at it as a step in the right direction, a forward movement to where we all want to be, which is the weekend.  It's all downhill after Wednesday.  You've done the climbing on Monday and Tuesday, so Wednesday is the peak of any mountainous week. 

TUESDAY

On Tuesday things usually seem to get more productive.  This is when we sort of "find our groove" and through hard work and a push to get through the week, we deliver whatever our project is with full force and capability.  One of my friends had an especially precious delivery this week:

This is the sort of thing that makes up for the existence of Mondays.  Tuesday can almost completely erase the horrible aftertaste left by a Monday like a gallon of Colgate attacking a garlic clove.  Tuesday can be so productive, in fact, that it takes that Monday bad attitude and quietly yet forcefully turns it into a Wednesday smile.  It just goes to show you, with a little push great things can happen, and why not on a Tuesday?

MONDAY

So I've been a little out of touch with 1000 Words this week.  Not sure why, I mean, it's not like I didn't have the same 24 hours in each day, but this week just seemed a little crazy!  Anyway, this is my own personal study of what the names of each weekday mean to me.

Mondays are a lot like all of the bills that come in our mail.  Everyone hates 'em.

This past Monday, for me, was marked by things I couldn't finish, things gone wrong, not enough sleep, not enough money, not enough hot water for the epic shower I desperately wanted to take, and not enough common sense.  That's why I say the definition of Monday, in it's simplest form, is UGGGGGGGGGGG.  That's a U followed by 11 Gs, and for each moment of the day that you say, "UGGGGGGGGGGG," you add another G.  A really bad Monday might wind up looking like this:
"UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!"

Monday usually comes all too soon after Sunday, which is a day of awesome bliss, and just sort of ruins the mood.  Anyway, the only redeeming quality of Monday is that it ends.

CRAP

Some people do not like the word crap.  They don't even let their kids say it. 

I overuse it.

And then one of my friends went to reply to a Facebook post and his auto correct changed "crap" to "carp".

So now, when I'm with my kids at least, I try to say, "Oh carp."

However, there are days when "OH CRAP!" is necessary.

Or, you find the leavings of a bird on the hood of your Chevy Malibu parked in your front yard and the only word that comes to mind is crap.

Crap can also be used to refer to the nonsensical ramblings of someone who doesn't usually have the facts...."That's a load of crap."

My recent "OH CRAP" moments:

Leaving my debit card in the ATM.
Spelling a client's name wrong on her pictures.
Forgetting to call someone important back.
Realizing I didn't put extra undies in Landon's backpack.
Almost needing extra undies myself when I drank too much water before work.  (Preggo bladders just don't work at 100%!)

I like to look on the bright side you could say...so I have discovered at least one good thing about crap.

It can be washed off with a good enough hose and some soap.

So the next time I hear myself saying, "Oh CRAP!" or "Ohhhh CARP!" I'll just get to cleaning up the mess, whether it was caused by a bird or dog or small human.  For the most part though, I think we each contribute to our own crap.  At least I do.  I mean, after all, if I hadn't parked near that tree, there wouldn't have been crap on my car.

THROUGH

So there's this country song, and the chorus goes like this:

If you going through Hell, keep on going.
Don't slow down, if you're scared don't show it.
You might get out 'fore the Devil even knows you're there.

I have a few friends that are "going through something."  (Hell can be defined in many ways based on who is describing it.  Personally, right now I'd say Hell would be having everything I need for a bologna sandwich but not a drop of ketchup.)  I've been thinking a lot about what it means to me to say someone is going through something and here's what I got:

If you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, you haven't quite gone far enough.  Don't quit.  Keep on going.  You don't say "I got through it" at the end of an ordeal because you sat there like a bump on a log just throwing yourself a pity party.

If you keep driving, paddling, walking, crawling, etc., you might not enjoy the journey you're stuck on but eventually you'll look up and see that you have indeed made it out purely due to determination not to stay.

Hanging around and wallowing in all the bad crap in our lives only gives time and ability for more crap to pile up.  Trust me....if you don't change a shitty diaper, the shit doesn't just go away.  More will eventually arrive and then all you have is well, more shit to deal with.

The happiest people I know are not the people who don't have any shit to deal with.  They are the people who simply decide they aren't going to let it stop them from enjoying the ride, which only allows them to get through it faster.

It really doesn't matter if we're talking bills, or relationship problems, or work issues or a blown tire.  As a matter of fact, if your tire blows and you just sit around bitching about it you're not going to fix the problem nor get yourself anywhere.  You have to take action, help yourself out a little, and get back to the journey.

One of my friends did just that recently.  She had a setback, and then decided that it didn't matter, and that a blown tire couldn't stop her from getting where she wanted to go.  She's closer now than ever and she learned that no matter what happens, if you just keep going, you'll get through it.