The Evening Ice Princess - Although "Princess" is not the word to best describe myself in the evenings.

I know that I must not be alone on the dark journey that we call "afternoon/evening".  I know there are others out there who turn into something else when late afternoon hits. I'm giving myself credit by referring to myself as an "Ice Princess".  A name more fitting would be "Demon of Darkness" or plain old "Crabby Bitch".

When is that precise moment when my patience becomes like a bald tire whose metal is exposed for all to see?  When every noise seems amplified and hard to tolerate.  When the tiredness sets in.  The mascara starts to accumulate under your bottom lashes no matter how many times you wipe it with your finger.  Your smile fades.  You shake your head while letting out deep sighs regarding just about anything.  The muscles in your face are tight.  You try to massage them but, it only pisses you off further that you are wound tightly enough to have to try to massage your own face!  You look and feel like crap. You are rolling your eyes and you're not even sure why, but you don't even care anyway.

The mother in me has grown tired, no, SICK of hearing her own voice.  Every repetitive word that passes through my lips is making me wince.  I can't stand to hear my own voice any longer!  I don't even know what I am saying anymore.  It mimics the "most annoying sound in the world" from the movie, Dumb and Dumber.  Go on, imagine it in your head.  Eeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaa!  Each annoying word digs deeper and deeper into my soul, puncturing that whimsical outer layer and leaving rust marks. 

I then go through the whole day being productive and happy about it.  I did countless loads of laundry, washed dishes, cooked, swept, talked with my little guy, made phone calls, dealt with unexpected "things" that came up, appointments, what have you.  I am fine with all that.  It seems that I can do quite a bit during what I consider my work hours, I hardly sit through out the day.  My work hours are from whenever I wake (5am-6am) until late afternoon.  I can do housework, take care of the kids, prepare meals, run errands, clean up dog shit, wipe up kid pee, sort mail, pay bills, etc.  I am not bitter about a single one but, come afternoon, I am bitter about most everything.  How dare they drink out of my cup!  Can't I have anything of my own?!  How dare someone leave their stuff on the floor, I'm not a maid!  How dare someone update their Facebook status in such a moronic fashion, when I don't have the patience to ignore it without becoming irritated.  Another selfie? Bite me! A bestie selfie?  Shove it! Bragging about dumb shit that nobody cares about?  Get a life girlfriend!  Then I become annoyed with myself that I am even browsing Facebook in the first place.  Husband comes home and sits on couch followed by tossing dirty socks on to the family room floor?!  Not going to fly.

I am not one of those women that become off duty when dad gets home.  I am still their mother and I and I am still running a house and I have things to do, and some of those things I just do better than him so I'd rather do them myself.  I am lucky to have a husband who helps.  He comes home after working all day and he is a parent.  He helps me give them attention, he helps me yell at them, he helps me love them.

It is as if at the stroke of 4pm, I go from relaxed, productive, singing, smiling, smooching mama, to grouchy, tired, bitter, and resentful.  Not to worry, the singing fun lady comes back by the next morning.  She is up with the sun.  We literally sing and dance on our drive to school every morning.  We have our mornings down to a science, we have great timing and we enjoy each other.

Maybe I need the evening to be more structured like the mornings?  No, I'm too tired by then for structure.  I think I am so burnt out by the afternoon that I try to just wing it and actually relax, but it never turns out right.  Why would I think I could relax when all of the kids are here compared to during the day when only one is home?  They are loud.  They argue passionately or they get along at a high decibel of sound.  I love them, every loud, chaotic ounce of them.  They are my little turds and they both drive me crazy and melt my heart within seconds.

I've tried afternoon coffee.  I've tried meditating (seriously, have you tried meditating with the background noise of "I had that first Logan!  You're a liar Dominique! Andrew don't touch that! Don't yew at me Wogan! I not yittle! Mom! Mooooom!!" 

Namaste?  Not really.

So, I have made a choice.  I will embrace the Demon of Darkness.  I will sip tea, (or coffee with a splash of Bailey's) and let out long sighs while shaking my head.  I will yell when the need arises, and then I will kiss there heads.  I will recline my chair and pretend there is no work to do.  I will hate my own voice because I know I will be happy with it in the morning.  I will laugh at how my children belong on a professional debate team.  I will remind myself that I am tired and they are wired.  I will think about how there must be some sexy qualities to a "Demon of Darkness".  I will stretch and I will take deep breaths.  I will find new movies on Netflix and I will dole out new chores.  I will win the light of the evening before they are grown, well, maybe.  I will try.  I will remember that I am not alone.

Please!  Share some of your Demon of Darkness moments with me.  I am sure there is much comic relief to had. Let's share the laughs.

Messy Me -My Messy Beautiful

I was initially writing this essay for the My Messy Beautiful project, which you can see at www.momastery.com/carry-on-warrior which would be one of many other blog posts by many bloggers about THEIR Messy Beautiful on Glennon Melton's blog. Unfortunately, life got a little messy and I missed the deadline! 

Here is a sample of MY Messy Beautiful.

I am a mess.  It doesn't always feel beautiful, but when I remember to be aware of myself, I can see the beauty in all messes.  I've experienced fearful messes, like being told I won't be able to have children.  I've experienced painful messes, like losing my father.  I've experienced joyous messes, like having babies.  I've experienced legal messes, like custody battles for my step children.  I've been through emotional messes, when your mind digs through your past mistakes in order to move forward.  The mess of depression.  The mess of being overwhelmed. The mess of worry and doubt. The mess of letting go.  The mess of disappointment. The mess of asking for help. The mess of taking charge.  The mess of loving. The mess of empathy. The mess of losing yourself in grief and in parenthood all at the same time and fighting to find yourself, only to find that you will never be the same.

Then there are the day to day messes.  Do I yell at my kids too much?  Are my kids too attached to me?  Should I have written this damn book by now?  Should I go back to work? I waited too long to eat and now I'm grouchy!

When will I be done with this this hip surgery recovery? Bills! Those overwhelming times in motherhood when you feel like you suck. Forcing myself to slow down, then beating myself up for not being as determined as I once was. Catching up all the laundry and then watching it pile up out of hand again.  Enjoying that euphoric feeling when everything is in its place and life feels organized, only to be reminded that life doesn't work that way. 

Life is a collage of messes.   I seem to be better organized when I have many things to organize.  When I took as much as I could off of my plate, I easily forgot things, misplaced things, constantly worried that I was forgetting something important (and sometimes I was).  Life got a little too clean.  I needed messes so that I could organize them and direct them.  Keep them coming!  These messes are life, and you carry on. You carry on with your armful of messes dragging behind you.

I am naturally a worrier.  I've always worried about things, even as a child.  I worried about my parents, worried about my little sister and brother.  I worry about decisions, money, friends, people's feelings.  My teeth are mostly smooth from grinding them in worry, while sleeping and awake.  I worry about messes.  I worry about writing this essay.  I have made a conscious effort to worry less.  The contradiction within myself is a mess.  This is my life.  These messes, big and small have made me who I am and I love myself.

Not allowing the messes to blur my happiness can be a mess in itself! Take pride in your messes and the warrior inside you that cleans them up! I've found that as long as I remember to stop and enjoy the mess, enjoy what I take from the mess, and capture the moment that the mess clears, the sun shining right after a rain, the blur begins to focus and everything feels whole. That is what matters. Being whole, being all inclusive, love, worry, happiness, and messes, this is the good stuff.

Quickie Blog Post: The Dead Dads Club

I will never forget a scene from an episode of Grey's Anatomy I saw several years ago.  Hearing this short dialogue between two of the main characters was the first time I felt understood since my dad had died.  I knew then that other people knew how I felt.  Now, of course I know millions of people have lost their fathers, but I didn't have peers who had been through my experience, it felt isolating, among other things.

Christina:  "There's a club.  The Dead Dads Club. And you can't be in it until you're in it.  You can try to understand, you can sympathize.  But until you feel that loss...My dad died when I was nine.  George, I'm really sorry you had to join the club."

George:  "I...I don't know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn't."

Christina:  "Yeah, that never really changes."

Who ever wrote this part of that episode had to have been in The Dead Dads Club.  I could not believe how well it related to how I felt. I had said shorty after he died that the hardest part was that the world wasn't the same to me anymore.  He wasn't in my world, and it didn't feel OK. It was a process to learn  how to be happy in this new "world" that I didn't care for.

When I became a mother, a dear friend said "Now you are a part of the secret club of motherhood".  It was a nice feeling. I was a part of this club where everyone else in it knew that beautiful feeling of becoming a mother.  It wasn't the same with the Dead Dads Club.  It wasn't nice or beautiful. It was painful and dark. 

Over the years it evolved a bit.  It will always be a club I wish I wasn't a part of, but you don't really have a choice in the matter.  You do, however, feel a little less alone after time.  With each "member" you meet, a little light lets in.  It isn't as dark anymore.  It is a lingering sadness, but not such a prison anymore.

Wandering

Today was unexpected. The plan was to take my 3 year old with me to Modesto to have our van looked at after dropping the big kids off at school. Just before daddy left for work, little man asked if he could go to Granny's house on his way. He hopped in dad's truck and off he went. At first I felt a little emotional. My baby wanted to leave me! I planned on hanging out with him. I said goodbye a few times and headed to big kid drop off. 

As I drove away from the school my van was quiet. So quiet in fact, that I could hear my own thoughts. My thoughts started to think about how nice it was going to be to have a day alone with no guilt attached.

I brought a cup of coffee, a good book, and some knitting, assuming I may be sitting at the dealership for a bit. I didn't even turn music on, I just drove and listened to my own thoughts, since I could actually hear them.

I got there a little too early. No big deal! I sat on their cheap black leather couch and jumped into my book. I was perfectly fine with sitting there alone for a few hours if needed. Eventually, we did some paperwork and they were ready to take the van. They asked if I had a ride because it may take a while. 

"No, I drove here from Patterson." 

"No problem, we will give you a car to drive around."

Are you kidding me? I'm being given a car to drive, free time on my hands and no kids? This may sound lame to some, but to a woman who is damn near constantly with anywhere from 1-5 children in tow and in a rush to be somewhere, it felt like I had just won a prize.  I tried my best to conceal my excitement. I'm sure I was glowing.

They gave me the keys to a 2000 Toyota Corolla.  I loved the simplicity of this car. Made me think back to my 2000 Cavalier I had when I was about 22, when I was alone most of the time.  I got in and took a minute to think about what the hell I was going to do with myself. I decided to check out the used book store I had been eyeing for months. I felt clumsy. It was so quiet in there! I wasn't used to going to quiet places because I usually had loud tiny humans with me. Once the friendly lady directed me to my favorite book section, biographies and memoirs,  I began to relax. They even had the book I was looking for! 

After that I just wandered. I wandered to different stores and just took my sweet ass time wandering around those stores. The entire day was relaxing but clumsy. It was relaxing because I was alone and free. It was clumsy because I was in an unfamiliar vehicle and revisiting "alone".

I wasn't a mom in the store, I was just Jenny. In all the excitement, it took a few stores for me to get comfortable with just being Jenny. Every journal I touched at Barnes and Noble knocked over two more journals next to it. Every book at Yesterday's Books that Inpulled out I then struggled to put back in its place. When I shut the car door, the seat belt was in the way. I was extremely indecisive when trying to pick a parking spot at Ross. Through it all though, I remained excited. I knew this free time was gold plated.

I walked through the doors at Ross and there was a friend of mine coming in the other door!  She had her little girl in the cart. We hugged and chatted for a minute. After that it was smooth sailing. It's almost as if seeing her reminded me of the "mom" me, but that my kids just happened to be elsewhere.  Some familiarity in the day. I was comfortably roaming around the store. I tried stuff on, I wandered, (and occasionally talked to myself out loud because that is what I do). It was fabulous. I wasn't pressed for time, my patience was not limited or decreasing. 

I had the freedom to change my mind on what curtains I wanted about three times. There was no little guy pulling things off the shelves. The store felt different. It was as if it wasn't really me at all, or some other version of me. It was kind of like being stoned but with much more clarity and appetite control.

Time to head back to town to pick up my daughter from school. Time for some mommy daughter time. We headed BACK to Modesto in search of a "fancy place", at her request to spend time at until the van was done. We found a wonderful coffee house hidden downtown, completely decked out in beautifully quaint decor. She, of course, chose to sit at the brilliantly ornate couch and coffee table with her juice and chocolate muffin. We chatted, we nosed around the patio and concluded that we would come here again sometime. The van was ready!

Today was one of those special days where you step out of routine just long enough to enjoy yourself and get back to you. I was happy to see my boys when I returned home. I felt rejuvenated and rested, even though tired from the busy day. 

Parents need little breaks. Breaks make you better parents. They make you appreciative and closer to whole. 

So turns out driving around and walking through stores wasn't the best thing for my still healing hip. I do see knitting and writing at that quaint coffee house in the near future though. 

It was a long, beautifully stoned (metaphorically speaking) day, time to snuggle up with this guy.

Some things I've learned so far in my 30's

I will soon be half way through my thirties. It seems there is a journey attached to each decade.  

When I was in my twenties I never thought about the fact that I was in a particular phase of life, or what there was to take from it. Although I had goals, I was not actively aware of growth. Looking back, the first half of my twenties were a self-absorbed alcohol and love drenched, wild ride. It was exciting, spontaneous, painful, sad, and joyous journey figuring out how to grow up.

I had my son at age 25. It was perfect timing in the universe. Life slowed down, became calm and took on a brand new meaning that was beaming with beauty. My life became intertwined with the life of this beautiful little peanut that was all mine. It was my job to create his childhood! Something he would look back on for the rest of his life.

The tail end of my twenties was a whirlwind of emotion and life changes all crammed into one year. I got married, I had another baby, I lost a parent, we bought a house, and I lost myself. It was the most loving, heartbreaking, and loneliest year of my life.

My thirties instantly became an open door. I was aware. I needed healing and growth. I needed to start over. We were in a new place making new memories, meeting new people, and making a life for our family. I was putting myself back together. I think we all will forever have pieces to put together, but for now I  feel more whole then I ever have, picking up pieces along the way.

Here are some fun facts that I have learned so far on my journey through thirty-hood:

1. I am enjoying my thirties more than my twenties, but in a different way.

2.  You think of your regrets often, but when they cross your mind, you feel more at peace with them.

3.  You cannot handle drinking like you did in your twenties.

4.  Sleep has become very high on the list if priorities. I do not say this as a mother. I handled less sleep in motherhood as a twenty-something just fine. It wasn't until after thirty that it really took a toll.

5.  Your back hurts.

6.  You have a deep urge to assert yourself.

7.  Friday night only means that tomorrow is Saturday.

8.  Teenagers and twenty-something's get on your nerves.

9.  Your eye for bullshit is developing nicely.

10. Your patience for bullshit is decreasing, which is frustrating, but makes you feel proud.

11. You learn that time heals, just not the way you expected.

12. You really do need 8 glasses of water a day.

13. Old friends that are still there for you and always have been are like diamonds. 

14. Making new friends is like gardening. Weeds need to be removed or they will drive you crazy. Flowers need care to blossom and brighten your life. They are the gem of the garden.

15. Alone time, (for me anyway) has become essential to my well being.

16. I roll my eyes more than I did as a teenager (this could be connected to the lower tolerance of bullshit).

Hopefully the last half of my thirties is as enlightening as the first. I'm already curious as to what the forties have in store.

Getting rid of STUFF

How does one accumulate so much STUFF?  I feel like I am constantly purging things from the house. It feels great but I still look around and see STUFF! I need simplicity, I need it bad. I try so hard and it always feels just out of my grasp.

For our family there are a few factors as to how we accumulated so much stuff. When my dad passed away about five years ago, I ended up with half of the furniture and "stuff" from his house, plus my own stuff! I have gotten rid of things here and there but held on to many things out of sentimental attachment. Letting go in that sense is definitely a process which takes time. The memories will not die, bottom line. 

Now let's throw in that we, together, have five children, and all of their STUFF. As I downsize their stuff, people give them more STUFF. I have tried many ways of organizing their stuff with beautifully thought out procedures on how to keep it that way.  It turns out that the kids are not as enthusiastic about procedure as I am, none of them, ages 3-12.  Party poopers!  

Having a two story house makes it just a tad more irritating trying to keep things where they belong. The kids being stuff downstairs that should stay upstairs, and things get lost upstairs that should be downstairs. After having hip surgery, there are only so many times I can go up and down those stairs in a day without wanting to hurt someone, and then have an adult beverage. 

I am an organizer. I feel good when things are organized. I get happy just looking at organization. I have trouble relaxing if the view around me is unorganized. So bigger measures need to be taken to really simplify. It's no where near something you would see on Hoarders, it's just too much for me. I feel smothered and weighed down, plus it's important to me to instill in my kids that less is more, because it really is.

It's been baby steps leading up to bigger steps. Months back I got rid of most things that usually sat on the kitchen counter tops, they are gone or put away somewhere. Major difference in how I feel about my kitchen! A good friend, Missy, had talked about how cleansing it felt to get rid of something you are attached to. To just do it! I did that in my kitchen and it was liberating. Thanks Missy! On to the rest of the house!

Our huge pieces of furniture are for sale. There is only one cube of toys and a castle allowed downstairs for play. Other than that, play in your room! 

We are still in the middle of it, but it already feels freeing. I will not miss all the STUFF crowding my thoughts and mood. I will no longer have to spend so much time trying to organize STUFF. There are 7 people who have stuff in our house, it's hard enough to handle the laundry, so I say, kiss it STUFF! 

My cheesy piece on RAIN

"Some people feel the rain.  Others just get wet." - Bob Marley

I didn't always feel the rain like I do now.  When I was a kid I really didn't care for it.  It made me feel cold.  As a teenager it messed up my carefully and purposely sculpted bangs and ruined my mascara.  Rain was a pain in my ass.  I knew there was something special about it and I loved the smell that it pulled form the earth, but I was too busy wanting to be warm and cute to figure it out.

When I was in my early twenties I lived at home with my dad and I was a smoker.  My feelings about the rain started to change as I did.  I used to love sitting in the gazebo that housed the hot tub in the back yard and enjoy a cigarette in the rain.  Fat raindrops would come falling through the open sky light into the hot tub as my exhaled smoke made its way out.  The sound on the roof was reassuring.  The wood structure  was moist and smelled comforting.  I sat on the wooden bar stool at the built in counter while small drops snuck in through the cracks onto my hand. It was peaceful.  Just me, my thoughts, and my cigarette.

There is a day from my later twenties that I purposely burned into my memory.  What seemed like an uneventful day, had become a fond memory due to the soothing touch of the rain.  It was my first apartment with just myself and my little boy, not even two years old.  It was a Monday and I had the day off of work.  The complex was quiet. My little boy was napping.  I had the back door open so that I could hear and smell the rain.  I walked back and forth to the laundry room that was just outside my back patio.  I remember how content I felt, folding laundry, looking at my sleeping child, listening to music as my apartment filled with the smell of rain.  I told myself I would remember that feeling, the smell, and the sound, so I could return to it whenever I wanted.  It was the perfect rainy day with no where to be.  I wasn't cold, in fact, I felt like the rain had captured me, warming my heart.  I could tell that my relationship with the rain had changed. 

When my boy woke, I took him to the back door and told him to take a big breath, to smell the rain.  "Doesn't that smell great?" I asked him.  He seemed as delighted as I to be sharing this little treasure.  To this day, almost nine years later, he yanks the back door open to get a good whiff of the rain.

Later that year I took a road trip to Oregon with my son and my cousin.  It was then that I truly bonded with the rain.  It rained pretty much everyday.  I noticed things.  I noticed that I didn't think to cover my head when getting out of the car.  I walked down the street, I walked on the beach, in the rain, but I didn't get wet, I just felt the rain.  It wasn't a pain in my ass anymore.  It was cleansing, it was a gift.  It was fresh and it made me feel alive. 

Last year  my oldest son and I made one of our most cherished memories together with the rain.  It was pouring outside.  We put on big jackets and leashed the dog.  We ran.  We took our dog and we ran together for almost a mile without stopping in the pouring rain.  It stung a little as it smacked or faces.  It was cold but our insides were warm from running.  We laughed and we shouted out into the rain.  It was so fun and so exhilarating that we could hardly contain ourselves.  What a rush!  Our dog seemed equally as excited.  Neither of us really wanted it to end.  We went home in soaked clothing and took hot showers (including doggy) and recapped how much fun we just had.

The rain had become so special to me that I jumped at any chance to share it with my children.  The last good rain we had, we sat on the front porch and drank hot chocolate together.  We watched how everything was the same but looked so different.  The wet road looked unfamiliar and far away.  The rain was loud but soothing.  Watching their faces light up as if they were watching magic was a sweet treat. 

I love how the rain makes everything more vibrant.  Grass looks greener, flowers look brighter, even the dirt appears to look more rich.  The rain reminds me of calm. It reminds me of love and comfort.  It always feels necessary and meaningful. It feels cleansing and pure.  Have you ever noticed how the rain makes anything more passionate?  Kissing, singing, running, dancing, a walk.  The rain is passionate on its own, bringing passion to everything under its umbrella.

Photo of painting - St. Giles in the Rain.