I Should Have Bred Iguanas...

The two-year mark

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Mon, 30 Dec 2024 08:27:00 +0000

Two years ago, I was at the hospital, trying to wrap my head around the news that my husband was gone. There was no warning, no way of possibly knowing that he would just collapse, and that the doctors would never be able to revive him.

How does a person who is so full of life, one who had been such a huge part of my life for more than 20 years, just suddenly cease to exist? It makes no sense.

I was chatting with a friend today, when she mentioned I've basically been through ten years' worth of changes in the past two. That sounds accurate. I feel like I have aged at least ten years in the last two or three.

I am mostly okay. During the first year or so after his death, my most common response to "How are you?" was to say that I was "Okay-ish." Not completely okay, but -ish. I'm not saying that there aren't people out there who want honest, genuine responses when they ask someone how they are doing, but I tend to feel like a lot of people say it because it's part of the script that we have been socialized to follow. A lot of people could use "How are you?" and "Hi" interchangeably, and they are thrown off by honest, open responses. On that same note, even if I did feel like the person asking me really wanted to know, I'm not exactly willing to unleash all my woes and vulnerabilities in the pet food aisle at the Dollar General. So, the most honest, genuine response I could usually give was "Okay-ish."

I am proud to say that I have changed my standard response to "Okay" most of the time. That feels like an upgrade to me. I tend to save most of my pity parties for my therapist, anyway.

A lot has happened in these past two years. Food once tasted like sawdust, but I can appreciate it again. I finished my master's degree. When I received the actual degree in the mail, I felt nothing. I put it back in its little box and set it on a pile of junk mail. I pretended it wasn't there for a long time, because nothing about my life seemed like it was the way it was supposed to be at the time. I eventually unboxed the damn thing, and set it on a shelf at my desk, where it sometimes even makes me feel a little good to look at it. I did that. I had to trudge through a lot of grief, trauma, and brain fog to earn that damn piece of paper. But by the skin of my teeth, and down to the last possible day to submit my research project, I did it.

And then I rewarded myself with a puppy.

I finally got a job, but it's not anything like what I was hoping to do with my degree. The job is remote, so I am saving a ton on clothing, fuel, and food. The pay is insulting, but the fact that pants aren't required almost makes it all worth it. I also enjoy not having to face people every single day, even if I sometimes feel like more forced socialization would probably be good for me.

I started a knitting/crochet/whatever group at my local library. We meet once a week, most weeks, and make stuff. I have met some fantastic, talented people there.

I learned how to unclog a sink. I also learned that I had never actually taught my youngest daughter what she can and cannot put down the drain. I guess she and I both learned stuff that day.

Meanwhile, the world has continued to spin. My heart has continued to beat. Everyone and everything is changing and evolving the way it's supposed to. And I am left to restructure a completely different future than the one I was looking forward to just two years and one day ago. The heavy sense of emptiness left by David's absence is still there, but I am getting a little better at carrying it. I don't imagine you ever truly get over a loss like this, but you learn to build and grow around it. We are meant to keep growing anyway, even when it's hard. Even when we don't want to. Learning about ourselves and the world around us, and the resulting growth, is a part of living.

If losing David has taught me anything, it's that tomorrow is never promised. If you can find happiness and a sense of purpose in life, chase it, grab it, and hold onto it with everything you've got. Many days, I can even convince myself that this is true.

I'll get there.

Grief Toasters and Organizational Clutter

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Fri, 09 Feb 2024 08:18:00 +0000

Nearly ten months before I lost my husband unexpectedly, I lost my mom unexpectedly. I have no idea how I will truly recover from either loss. I am learning you don't exactly *recover* from losing some of the most important people in your life, but instead you just sort of get better at carrying the good memories and the sad feelings with you. Always.

Losing my mom was devastating and caught us completely off guard. We knew she had been sick. She'd had a medical emergency months before which resulted in needing multiple blood transfusions. They told her she had a fatty liver. They even charted that they told her she had a fatty liver. They also charted that she, in fact, had advanced cirrhosis of the liver. Nothing about her lifestyle would have ever caused anyone to come to that conclusion. We were informed of her actual condition hours before she died, seven months after they had diagnosed it themselves. We knew she was sick. We kept trying to get her into the doctor, but they kept rescheduling her appointments or doing them via video call.

There is a LOT more to that story, but I'm just going to sum it up with this clip:

I'm convinced that IS their technical name.

So, we finally get her in to see a doctor, the doctor takes one look at her and sends her to the ER. They run a bunch of tests and decide to keep her overnight. We are called the next morning and are informed of her actual condition. And they told us as if we should have already known. And then she is dead by that evening. Just. Like. That. I need to get to my point. I'm starting to feel agitated again.

SO...I remember leaving the hospital with David. I remember having to stop at some shitty little gas station mini mart that was still open to try to buy something that my youngest needed. But I don't remember if I slept that night. Or how I slept that night. I was in complete shock. I must have slept at some point, because I remember waking up that next morning and, a few minutes later, remembering that my mom was dead. I felt like I was suddenly bowled over by this wave of confusion, disbelief, and shock with no sense of control or even an understanding of which way was up. David was next to me and the first thing I said to him that morning was, "I need to buy a new toaster." I don't remember exactly why I was so concerned about a toaster at that moment. Sure, our toaster was cheap and old. It seemed to have a direct line of communication with our smoke detector no matter how well we cleaned it. I had probably been bitching about that thing for months already. My best guess is that, with all the things I was feeling, all the control I did not feel like I had, I knew a toaster was something that I could control. While I was faced with a lot of terrible things, I didn't have to live with a shitty toaster anymore.

I finally ended up ordering a toaster on Amazon. It had a giant window in it so you could see the bread change color as it toasted. That seemed AMAZING to me. I was excited to get to watch my toast get toasted in real time. I think that excitement lasted for approximately two pieces of toast. And while it's still a pretty good toaster after nearly two years, it takes up way too much counter space and I still think of losing my mom when I look at it. Methinks it might be time to replace my grief toaster.

Since I lost David a little over 13 months ago, I have learned a lot about "widow's brain" and some of my temporary limitations. A substantial amount of fog has already lifted and I am already so much better than I was just six months ago. In what I can only assume is an attempt to straighten things out in my head and my life, I have started to buy storage bins and baskets in what I consider to be unreasonable amounts. I mean, it's really only unreasonable to me because I have not been able to use most of them yet. I have plans though. Big plans. I just have to be able to remember them. I should probably also admit that I have just purchased my third planner for this year. Planners can be very helpful in helping keep things straight, but aren't quite so effective if you forget they exist and fail to open them. Ask me how I know that.

More and more each day, I am learning that getting one's shit together after losing a spouse is a marathon, not a sprint. Actually, it's more like running a series of marathons with one shoe missing and no clear parameters.

Am I still going the right way? Am I even in the race anymore? Why does everything hurt? And where did all these plastic baskets come from?

Change of Plans

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Thu, 24 Aug 2023 22:09:00 +0000

I received a planner as a gift from David this past Christmas. It was actually one of the items on my wish list. After 20 years of marriage, we were finally learning how to buy gifts for each other without beating ourselves up about it. The holidays are stressful enough, amiright?

The day after Christmas, I stayed up late into the night filling out an entire years' worth of things including softball tournaments, birthdays, appointments, etc. This particular planner even has a place for weekly, monthly, and quarterly goals, time management, gratitude, mind maps, etc. It basically had all the bells and whistles that could appease the overwhelmed neurodivergent hot mess that typically am, at least for awhile anyway. I was going to start my year off RIGHT. 2023 was going to be the year I completed my master's degree and began working, as well as the start of the senior year of high school for our youngest daughter. I knew I needed to be more proactive and organized if I didn't want to end up feeling like I was drowning in the details.

Four days after Christmas, David passed away unexpectedly and the world just sort of stopped. Time was suddenly a social construct I couldn't care less about. The planner was in my purse, ready to help me navigate the new year, but I couldn't even bring myself to look at it. In fact, that planner's very existence made me angry. Three days after I filled that planner out with all the hope and excitement for the year to come, none of it seemed to matter anymore. The person who filled out that planner no longer existed and there was no way in the world I felt like I could relate to her. That woman seriously had no clue.

For months, that freaking planner has been sitting on a little side table in my dining room practically taunting me by reminding me of all I've lost. All the plans that will never be.

In that time, I managed to finish my research project and complete my degree. That was brutal. Forcing myself to focus on something that intense while grieving only made me more scatter-brained and more easily frustrated, with brain fog that was sometimes so thick I couldn't even make a grocery list. Have you ever tried to teach a toddler long-division? That has to be what it was like for my professor to support me through all that. The Zoom calls ended up being more like therapy sessions than anything.

And there sat that planner, where I could always see it but barely stand to.

I filled out piles of paperwork (some with help, especially on the days were I could barely write my own name and birth date without making a mistake), and I started to accept that I could take charge of my life and what it will look like moving forward.

But that damn planner remained untouched.

I then turned around and bought myself another planner, but this one was for one day at a time. That seemed to be more realistic for my foggy, salty, widow's brain as it was. This one even helped me track my meals and water consumption! (And fitness and errands and gratitude..... but let's not get too carried away, K?)

A few weeks ago, with more than half of the calendar year behind me, I finally opened up the damn planner and decided to try to use it again. A lot has happened...and not happened...in those months that I have tried to pretend they didn't exist, that the damn planner itself didn't exist. I guess I am coming to terms with the fact that some birthdays, anniversaries, and other plans will not have the same meaning or ever bring the same joy that they once had. And while it will never be *okay*, it will always be. I can't change that. And if I begin to utilize these planners effectively, they can help me take control of all the parts of my life I still have left.

Maybe it's time for me to go back to basics and give myself little congratulatory pats on the back in the form of brightly colored stickers and writing down the things I do accomplish. Some days those little wins might look like making phone calls I have been dreading or brushing my teeth and putting on real pants. Other days, getting out of bed requires so much effort that a parade should probably be thrown in my honor. (No, don't do that. I actually despise parades. Sitting on a curb or on a fold chair, watching people walk or ride by? I don't get it.) My capabilities and attention span are about as consistent as Oklahoma weather, but ya gotta start somewhere, right?

Plans can change, people can die, and life as we know it can feel like it completely implodes. But I'm still here. Life, for the most part, still feels very much like an abandoned beach in January.... foggy, salty, and empty. But I feel like some of the fog has lifted a little and I need to begin to try to look around at the wreckage and see what I have left to work with. I may not have a lot of days where I feel accomplished, be it in my career (that has yet to begin) or personal hygiene. But I'll be damned if I don't give myself some credit when I do.

Not to brag, but I plan on brushing my teeth later...

Shells

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Thu, 18 May 2023 22:56:00 +0000

I'm still the same person I was before I lost David. At least, I think I am. I feel like I am still me, only way more aware of how quickly life can go sideways and the rug can be pulled out from underneath me. I miss him everyday, but I feel stronger on some days and like I can't catch my breath on others. I am usually still quick with a joke or a humorous observation but I also cry quietly in Sam's Club when I walk past the brand of socks I used to buy for David. I guess you could say I feel like a shell of my former self, but I know I am still in there somewhere. The old me is guarded by the understanding that anyone and anything can be ripped from your life without any warning or real explanation.

I took my dog for a dental procedure the other day. When I signed the release form before they took her back, I had to initial a section to choose between them taking lifesaving measures or a DNR if she doesn't respond well to the anesthesia or should other complications arise. I checked the box for the DNR because I am in a dark place, life is fleeting, and it's hard to imagine suffering anymore than I already have. The procedure went well and she is healing nicely. It also cost about half of what they estimated it could, so that felt like an all-around win for me. She didn't die, but I was prepared if she had. If you don't answer my call, there is a part of me that is preparing for you to be dead. It's pretty dark where I live right now, but I think I am just protecting myself from any more unexpected losses. Because how could I suffer more?

Let me quickly make sure the Universe understands that this is in no way a challenge to see how much more I could lose....just to be clear!

Last month would have been our 21st wedding anniversary. Since Pismo Beach was always our go-to place when we wanted a quick getaway either as a couple or a family, I booked a room at a hotel where he and I had always talked about staying but never did. I did all the things we would usually do, but alone. I bought cheap jewelry on the pier, ate clam chowder (Splash Cafe, of course!), bought candy at Hotlix, and sat on the beach to watch the waves and the other families enjoying their day. It was difficult and sad, but it also felt very right and necessary. I felt both closer to David and I also missed him more than ever. When I passed a UPS driver making deliveries, I amused myself with the conversation I know I would have had with David. He would have been jealous of the weather the driver works in, but he would not have envied the higher cost of living and the hellish tourist seasons. Those brown trucks stood out to him no matter where we went, to the point where he often felt like his job was following him on his vacation days.

I have found myself preferring the company of people who have suffered similar losses and have connected with some amazing people in the process. It's like we are all in a sad, dark club where no one actually wants to be a member, but we are thankful to have each other. It's soothing to be with other people who *get it*, even though we hate that we all do. I met a small group of women who meet in person and a few Facebook groups that have made me both laugh and cry. I feel most like myself when I am surrounded by like-minded people who know my pain.

I am just trying to move forward most days. Sometimes, I don't move at all but sit still and try to immerse myself in what used to be. I can't live there, though. The world keeps on turning and it's a gift to be able to turn with it. We shouldn't take that for granted, even on the days when we want no part of what this world has to offer. On those days, I crawl inside my theoretical hidey-hole and just sit with it all. While it felt more difficult than it should have been, I completed my master's degree and have started looking for jobs. Aside from the substitute teaching gig, it has been so long since I have been a part of the workforce and I am sort of scared shitless. The original plan was for me to be able to ease into working once I completed my degree, but this past year or two has taught me that ultimate outcomes aren't really up to us. I'm not sure if I will ever be able to make concrete plans for the future again. Instead, I will focus on the direction I want to go and hope for the best. While also preparing for the worst.

I also collected a few little shells and rocks I found as I walked on the beach on our anniversary. I identify with those shell pieces, especially the broken ones. But, unlike those shells, I am not the final version of myself. I'm still in there somewhere, even if there will always be pieces missing. For now, it's safer to hunker down in my shell. Never the same but always me.

Moments and Other Finite Resources

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Mon, 06 Mar 2023 09:14:00 +0000

Like many adults (and probably some kids), my typical morning begins with a cup of coffee. Since I am the only one who regularly drinks coffee in this house, I usually just make myself a single cup. But the other day, I peered out the window as I was setting up my morning joe up to brew. It was cold, rainy, and windy and I decided it would be a good day to brew an entire pot. I mean, it's really not any more work to brew an entire carafe of coffee as it is a single cup right?

On most mornings, those when I usually brew myself a single cup, that cup is my main focus until it is gone. I have never been one of those people who can carry their cup of coffee around the house and then have to retrace my steps to see where I left it. I don't enjoy the idea of letting is sit long enough to get cold, drinking it cold, or even reheating it in the microwave multiple times just to get through finishing a single cup. Instead, I sit at the kitchen table and allow myself the five or ten minutes it can take to enjoy the entire cup of coffee. I also usually take that time to grab a bite to eat, take my vitamins, and load up on the allergy meds I need to survive my everyday life. If I get too rushed or don't plan well enough to carve out these few minutes each morning, it usually feels like my whole day is thrown off. So I make a cup of coffee, sit down and give myself a few minutes to savor the entire cup, then I am ready to move onto the rest of my day. I always finish that cup of coffee because I know it's the only one I am getting.

But, something odd happens when I decide to brew an entire pot of coffee. I rarely do this since I have a system in place and, for the most part, it works for me. But knowing I have the remains of an entire pot at my disposal somehow takes away from my ability to enjoy finishing even one cup. The last few times I brewed an entire pot for just myself, I didn't even finish drinking the first cup. Knowing there would always be more kept me from appreciating the cup sitting in front of me. I guess it could be said that I took it for granted. It's funny how easily we can take things for granted when we feel like there will always be more where that came from. A friend of my daughter's is going to school on the coast. I asked her if she visits the beach often and she admitted to me that she never thinks about it because she always knows it's "right there."

Just like that pot of coffee.

We don't live very far from a pretty well-known national park. People come from all over the world to be able to enjoy the beauty and splendor of this park. But the first time I visited that park, it was on an elementary school field trip with one of my daughters' classes in my late 30s. Had I not chaperoned that field trip, who knows if I would have visited there at all if it hadn't been for that field trip. I always knew it was "right there" and would not take much to get there.

Just like that pot of coffee.

It just seems like it's so easy to take for granted so many comforts and people in our lives when we feel like they will always just be there. When the kids seem to have grown up in the blink of an eye, is that because we feel like we didn't savor it enough while it was happening? Taking things and people for granted seems to be common, since so many of us seem focused on the future, be it the next thing or phase of life we perceive to be ahead of us. How many or things do we regularly put off focusing on because we assume they will always be there?

Just like that pot of coffee.

I just miss him so much

David was my rock. . . and not only because he could raise one eyebrow just like The Rock. He might have worked long hours and missed a lot of the day-to-day activities, but he was my constant, steady partner nonetheless. Sharing a life with another person can be really trying at times. We certainly stepped on each other's toes our fair share, but our strengths usually complemented each other. We used to joke that neither of us wore the pants in our family. Instead, we shared the pants and stumbled around as if we were competing in one of those cheesy three-legged races. We stumbled a lot, but we always managed to stay together and get back up on our feet. I guess it was naive to assume that he would always be here. But I did assume that. As much as I had wanted him to stay, I also know that he did not want to leave us either.

In fact, no one was more excited about our future than David. One of our more recent regular disagreements was about how he wanted to make big, rather specific plans for our future and how I wanted to avoid that topic. My little ADHD brain would perceive those plans as pressure and start to spin out with a whole new set of worries and what-ifs when he tried to get too specific about our future. He put a lot of stock in his retirement, which he was planning on doing very soon. My anxiety would then make him anxious, which I would usually find upsetting and. . . you can probably see where this is going.

But in David's mind, his retirement was this thing that would always be there, finally allowing him the opportunity to do all the things he felt his job prevented him from doing. I'll eat healthier when I retire. I will start exercising regularly when I retire. When I retire, I am going to spend a lot of time outside and really make the yard look good. He was so excited for the life he could lead and the options he would have when he finally retired. In his mind, those good things could wait because he would be able to enjoy them all upon retirement.

I think I am in a sort of reflective phase of my grieving. My mind likes to playback unanswered questions and regrets on a loop, which I realize is rather exhausting and not at all productive. I sometimes feel like I have a constant movie playing in the background that highlights all the ways I took David for granted when he was here. Instead of beating myself up for all the things that cannot be changed, I am making a conscious effort to try to be more present and mindful with some of the people around me. This is often easier said than done since I have an innate tendency to live inside my own head and fail to see what is right in front of me. Or hear the person yelling "MOM!" at me from 11 inches away.

I still mostly keep to myself when I can. I have had so many offers and invites from friends who just want to help, but I am not exactly ready for much of that yet. I really appreciate everyone who reaches out and wants to help me, but I yearn for the day when people stop looking at me as the woman who lost her husband while offering me hugs and condolences. (I'm actually not much of a hugger and usually only hug others if I think they need it.) I really do love to talk about David, just not so much about how I'm doing since he died. I love to tell funny stories about him, brag about his accomplishments and more stellar qualities, joke about things he did to get under my skin, or illustrate how frustrated I can feel not being able to ask him simple questions. (Honestly David, where on earth did you put my step ladder?) I mention him frequently in conversation, often still in the present tense. I have read that is common and I'm not too worried about it. I am actually embracing thinking about him that way, confident the day will come when all of my stories about David are told in the past tense. I am sure it will feel like another loss when that happens since acknowledging he only lives in my past feels like it could make the time and distance seem even more real. I'm not ready for that.

In the meantime, I am trying to focus on who and what I have right now; what's in front of me. It shouldn't matter if I have a full carafe of coffee on standby or a scenic adventure just down the road. I need to always try to remember that time and proximity are not guaranteed, so I should savor each bite, sip, or relationship like it's all I might get. You never know when they could be gone.

The End of the Beginning

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Wed, 08 Feb 2023 10:18:00 +0000

I lost the most significant part of my adult life almost six weeks ago. David was an actual force of love, support, and kindness for me and so many other people. He was the very best human in so many ways. I have never known anyone to care so much about everything he did and all the people around him. He really put a lot of pressure on himself to be so many things to so many people. Because of this, he was not always the easiest to live with. Then again, is anyone? I know I’m not! It could be said that his most serious transgression in our marriage was caring way too much about so many people and (in my opinion) too many things.

These past weeks have felt as if they were unending and, yet I also feel like they passed in the blink of an eye. I can lose almost entire days feeling frozen in a moment sometimes. Conversely, I can also shower, dress, and join the living world as if I actually belong there. Even if I feel like I can pull it off, it’s really physically and emotionally draining. I am most comfortable in my home, surrounded by my small circle of people. Or even totally alone. That is when I feel like I can be my truest self, laughing or crying as I feel I need to.

A week or two ago, I had my first dream about David. Well, one that I remembered anyway. It was late in the morning. When I can, I go back to sleep after I initially wake up each morning. It was during one of those morning naps when I dreamt of David. In the dream, I somehow just knew he was out in the garage, even though I also knew he was gone. But in this dream, I didn't tell anyone that I knew he was there. Instead, I sneaked out the door leading to the garage and there he was. I don’t remember either of us speaking, but he just held me while I cried. The peace and comfort that dream brought me was more than I had felt since he left this world, but those feelings faded quickly as I slowly regained consciousness.

Up until this past year, I had been relatively fortunate to not have experienced the loss of an immediate family member or close friend. Looking back, I can confirm that my ignorance truly was bliss. The loss I had experienced prior to this past year really did hurt, but none of those people I lost were a really big part of my everyday life, past or present. Unexpectedly, we lost my mom in March of 2022. Losing the mother that raised you, even as an adult, it changes you as a person. She was this huge link to my past, one of my best confidants, someone who could find the humor in just about any situation, and the one who adored my girls as much as David and I do. But as much as it hurt and changed me as a person to lose my mom, she wasn’t a large part of my everyday life. She was a huge part of every holiday and all the usual milestones like birthdays, awards ceremonies, and the sports played by my girls. It was at all those events where we usually knew we would be spending with her in some capacity that the loss was felt the greatest. It still does. This past Christmas Eve was just five days before I lost my husband, and I remember crying in the car on the way to a celebration because she should be here for this. My mom loved Christmas music, pretty lights, admiring decorations, and spoiling her granddaughters (and new great grandson) to the best of her abilities. It was all so exciting to her and that excitement created its own special joy about the holiday season that was felt by all she touched. David and I shared a family, a bed, a home, a bank account. . . our life.

David was my rock through all of the ‘firsts’ I had to get through after losing my mom. I tend to keep a lot of my feelings to myself, but this past year I had actually let David into those scary, unpredictable places inside my head and my heart. . . and he was fantastic. I could tell him about all those anxious, insecure, or weepy moments that I usually kept inside, and he gave me more love and support than I felt like I deserved. It highlighted that our relationship could have been so much better if I had just shared all the parts of me, even the ones that didn’t feel so endearing. All relationships have ups and downs, and ours was no exception. We had just gone through one of the down periods, but with counseling (and hormone therapy on my part) we were in this amazing upswing, and it almost felt like we were dating again. With the kids being older, date nights and cuddling on the couch were more common than they had been since the beginning of our relationship. We had joked about figuring out what to do with ourselves and each other when all the kids were gone and he retired, which was could have been as soon as a year or two from now. It’s an adjustment learning to let go of the life where the kids are young and need so much from you to a life where they don’t need you and you find yourself staring at your partner like, “Who even are we without all that?” The prospect of our empty nest began to feel full of excitement rather than uncertainty.

And then he was gone.

Monday night very well could have been the first *normal* Monday night we’d had since the holidays. My middle was home, and The Bachelor was on television. I was sprawled across the loveseat for most of the program, making my usual jokes about the intensity or catty remarks of the contestants. When it ended, the next show came on and the girls set off to their rooms. I glanced over to the couch where David had always resided during this exact same Monday night routine we’d had for the past few years, but he wasn’t there. It hit me, once again, that he’s not going to be there in that capacity ever again, and I don’t need any more proof than the container of his ashes that currently resides on a shelf in the corner of this very living room. Even without the ashes, he will always be here in some way. He’s in the stories and laughter we share, the tools and gadgets he collected (seriously David, four chainsaws?!?), and the many things he built with his own two hands and often a dash of redneck ingenuity. I’m not sure there was any project or tool he couldn’t repair or improve with his outside-the-box thinking and understanding of how things work. His dad once told me that many of David’s favorite toys as a child were the broken ones, since those gave him the opportunity to take them apart and see how they work, with the added challenge of making them work once again. He often worked the same magic with people by helping them with their own broken things or even just giving them a friendly smile and compassionate ear when they were feeling a bit broken themselves. He worked so hard to be so many things to so many people. And I would say his is a success story, especially when I think about the turnout for his celebration of life.

My middle created a video that we shared at his celebration and it’s such a good glimpse into the kind of friend, husband, father, grandfather, son, and UPS guy he truly was. He wore a lot of hats in his way-too-short life, but he wore them well.

Because she was my mom...

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Mon, 09 May 2022 08:10:00 +0000

I am here today,

because she was my mom.

I'm not always the beam of sunshine that she was,

but she taught me the importance of helping others,

even when they may never be able to help us back.

Babies of all species need love and nurturing.

I learned that,

because she was my mom.

Because she was my mom,

I became a mom myself.

I understand the importance of being present,

and never taking myself too seriously.

I learned to embrace the chaos and laugh often.

My daughters are able to learn those same lessons,

because she was my mom.

Because she was my mom,

I learned you are never too old to act like a child.

Make funny faces, do silly voices,

and tell a lot of stories.

Keeping up with children will keep you young,

and that all makes perfect sense to me,

because she was my mom.

This photo was taken last year, the last Mother's Day we were able to spend with her.

We had no clue.

This Mother's Day was the first of many where an important piece will be missing.

Tell your loved ones what they mean to you while you can.

Weather the storm! Run the race! Do the thing!

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Fri, 21 May 2021 22:07:00 +0000

When 15YO was in first grade, her class did a “Patriotic Program” at school. Each child had a speaking part during the performance. My child was given a rather wordy part, but her teacher assured us that she was more than capable of handling it. So, my ever-determined first grader repeated her part out loud so many times that the entire household had it memorized in time for her performance. This was her part:

“On the Statue of Liberty are these words: Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

This was the first time I had heard of the term “tempest-tossed”, and I had no clue how much it would come to resonate with me. Merriam-Webster describes this term as “tossed about or agitated violently, thrown into confusion, or overwhelmed.” It could be used to describe a ship at sea during a violent storm, being tossed around so that all it can do is hope it can remain afloat once the storm has passed.

I have come to realized that I feel much like the tempest-tossed ship.

I’m not trying to say that I have a more difficult life than anyone else. I know, for a fact, that is not the case. The truth is that everyone has difficulties in their lives, and not all of those difficulties are based on their own choices. All of my storms are based on my own choices, and I have no regrets in choosing them.

But I am tired.

I don’t think this feeling is just a result of my life choices, but is also a result of the world we live in. It often feels like life is a race that has already started while I am still trying to figure out which shoes I should wear. Should I wear the really comfortable ones? The ones that give me the most support and should help me finish strong? The ones that look best with what I am wearing? What about those shoes that everyone else seems to want? Am I supposed to want those shoes?

I was recently told that I seem to focus more on the things I have not accomplished rather than giving myself credit for the things I have and am currently accomplishing. I guess that is probably true. But it is difficult to forget about what needs to be done when I feel like everyone else is already halfway through their race and I am still digging through my sock drawer trying to find that one pair that doesn’t slide a little more off my heel with each step I take. What if I get distracted trying to organize said sock drawer and forget to join the race altogether?

It’s easy to feel tempest-tossed in a world like this one. I imagine I am not alone in this feeling. So, if you feel like you are a ship trying its best to weather a storm, just know you are in good company. (Okay, maybe not good company, but company nonetheless!)

Sometimes, all we can really do is batten down the hatches and aim for clearer skies. And most storms come with really great stories.

My Need for the "D" and Other Reasons I Should Not be Allowed in Public

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Thu, 29 Apr 2021 21:18:00 +0000

I seriously meant to post regularly when the world closed down last year, but that lasted....maybe a few weeks? Oh, well. My inconsistency is usually my most consistent trait and I have decided that I will just be okay with that.

We are now well over a year into this whole pandemic thing. When will COVID be downgraded from a pandemic to an epidemic? Does anyone else remember a time when you thought an epidemic was the worst thing that could happen? Do you remember standing in crowded places? Indoors? And seeing people's entire faces?

Crazy, right?

We are finally moving closer to what we have always perceived to be *normal* but this journey will not be a brief one. I'm not sure I will ever not have to consciously control my hateful glares when someone coughs in public. Seriously, it's a reflex! That is complicated by the fact that this is an especially intense year for seasonal allergies.

I say that, but I honestly think I have been saying that every year since I turned 30 or so. Curses!

So, I ran out of my 12-hour Sudafed and had to go a day without it. Going without it for one day is usually not a big deal, but going several consecutive days without any one of the three allergy medications I take is a guaranteed recipe for a sinus infection. I don't make the rules, but I certainly have the experience to understand the consequences. I had just enough time between work and having to pick up 15YO from softball practice to run by one store and make my weekly-allotted purchase of meth-grade Sudafed from the pharmacy.

As I approach the pharmacy, I see a big, empty space behind the counter where my drug of choice is usually kept and I am sensing that this could really be a problem for me. Now, I consider myself a typically sociable person in the sense that I can hold a friendly little small-talk session with the best of them. But, there are times when I should not be allowed to talk to other people.

Enter: Anxiety-induced babbling.

When something is bothering me or I am stressed, I tend to overshare, undershare, or inappropriately share things with total strangers that might make them uncomfortable or raise red flags about my intentions.

Why did I tell that Starbucks barista that I don't have a penis?

Why do I feel the need to point out my flaws to total strangers as examples of why my parents should probably never have bred?

Why do I still make methamphetamine jokes when I am handing over my license to buy Sudafed? "Thank you! Now I almost have enough for my next batch!"

So yesterday, when the poor, unsuspecting guy at the Walmart Pharmacy suggested another allergy medication, why did I say, "Is this the stuff you can make meth out of? Because if it's not, it's not going to work."

I then went on to ask him the minimum age someone could buy the restricted stuff, as if I planned to have a team of young adults helping me build up my stash. To be fair, I have an 18-year-old daughter who enjoys shopping more than I do. It would be handy to know I could have her pick up a box for me when I don't have time to run to the store myself. But at that point, I felt like any further explanation would just make me seem more suspicious, so I just shut my mouth and handed the nice man my license.

I guess it makes sense to also wonder why did he even sell it to me? Why was there not a uniformed officer following me around the store and out to my car?

I settled on Allegra-D, since the "D" means it basically has Sudafed in it. (I'm totally in it for the "D!" 😂) I had to drop one of my regular medications because they would allegedly not play well with the Allegra (Thank you, Google!). But, I must say, I already feel like I have an easier time breathing through my nose than I have in a long time. I guess it was time to switch up my typical allergy meds because of tolerance and all that.

I have been fortunate in the fact that my allergy meds have controlled the symptoms that could be confused for COVID. As long as I stay properly medicated, I don't get a cough, runny nose, or anything like that. I just sometimes get an itchy nose, difficulty breathing, and burning, watery eyes when I am outside too much. Or at all. Or if a window is open. Or if it is April or May. Or Tuesday.

I think I need to move.

Gains, Losses, and Running Errands Dressed Like an Old-Timey Stagecoach Robber

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Fri, 15 May 2020 03:40:00 +0000

Seriously...has going to the bank EVER been this much fun before? I think not! 😂

Like so many others, my feelings are all over the place when it comes to this lockdown/pandemic/quarantine thing. I am appreciating things I never gave myself time to think about in my pre-pandemic life. Like most things in life, this situation has resulted in pretty much all of us winning some, losing some, and grasping like crazy for a reason for all this. (Because there was a reason for all the other pandemics in the history of the world, right?)

Since my time is no longer short, but my attention span still remains much like that of a goldfish with a brain injury, I've decided to list the good, the bad, gains, and losses in bullet points.

Here are some things that have increased in my life since the 2020 pandemic:

The number of days I go between washing my hair is so much longer than I'd ever imagined. At one point, I actually put dry shampoo in my hair to go outside and get my mail. I didn't want to end up on a neighborhood Facebook group as the alleged homeless woman who has been seen going through people's mailboxes. If anyone has ever considered trying the "No Poo Method," can you think of a better time than now?
My alcohol tolerance has most definitely increased over these past two months. Pretty soon, my classes toward my masters degree will start up. Then, I will most definitely need my brain. Until then, well...it's 5 o'clock somewhere, right? I mean, it's not likely I have anywhere to be. And neither do most of you! Once I need my brain, my alcohol consumption will go back down to being a treat instead of an almost daily thing. Until then...
The size of pants I wear has also increased. Not substantially, but it's hard to know for sure when the things I usually wear are stretchy and have elastic waistbands. I was doing really well right before this whole shelter in place thing came about. I even did well the first month or so after it began. But, without a clear end date in sight for all of this, I'm just going to take my life one beer and tortilla chip at a time. Who's with me?
My paranoia of germs and other people has grown exponentially these past couple of months. I have always habitually held my breath when I walk past a person who appears to have any sort of communicable illness. I've never really worried about disinfecting shopping cart handles, because healthy people shop too. However, I don't read the magazines in doctors' offices because the odds of sick people reading them first are too high for me. While my methods of staying away from cooties might not be completely sound, they work for me. Not only do I now fear the potential germs from other people, but I fear the ones that I might be carrying and don't know about yet. Waking up with a stuffy nose and dry cough has never been more terrifying, until you realize you slept with the window open, it's spring, you feel the accompanying sinus pain and pressure that comes with seasonal allergies (especially when it's windy!) and you remember that you always have a dry, tight cough until you use your inhaler!
We have most definitely increased the use of our pool. This time of year, we are typically too busy with softball and school to spend much time in it. Once school is out, we still don't use the pool much because of travel softball. When one family member can't swim and wear herself out on game or practice days, how can the rest of us really enjoy it? I spent my Mother's Day floating around the pool in the sun, cold beer in hand. It. Was. Fantastic.

Here are a few things that have decreased in the past two months, and counting:

My patience for the people I live with has dwindled over the past two months. Have they always chewed like that? Why can I hear them breathing? Why are they all still here? Have they always sounded like that when they eat cereal? Have they always eaten this much cereal? Cereal should be outlawed. Who buys this stuff?
The number of pants in my closet that fit me has been reduced, especially in just this past month. There are no rules anymore, what can I say?
The amount of laundry I have to do has gone down a bit. I mean, how can we have so much laundry when we don't get dressed and leave the house very often?
Sadly, the number of steps I take each day has also been shrinking. My smartwatch is pretty much mocking me these days. The sleep tracking app I use likes to act like it's giving me the benefit of the doubt by advising me to "wear my watch during the day to see a difference in my average heart rate between sleeping and being awake." Apparently, there is supposed to be a difference! I am living proof that there is no difference when you don't physically move much during the day! SLOTHS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!
Lastly, my motivation took a serious crap. It's gone. What day is it? Who cares? I'd better get this task done, or else...NOTHING WILL HAPPEN. Starting school again will at least give me some sort of structure from which to build the rest of my life around. Until then...I honestly don't know how I will be able to account for myself or my actions without any structure.

I should not be left unsupervised...

Jack in the Box, Identifying with Crime Dramas, and Staying in Your Seat

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Wed, 06 May 2020 02:02:00 +0000

Jack wants to know if it's safe to come out of the box. Sorry Jack, NO ONE knows the correct answer to that!

Last night, I had a dream that I ran into someone, and they told me I looked like I had lost a lot of weight. I mean, I definitely haven't, but I didn't realize how much I needed to hear something like that. Hell, even if I did lose a significant amount of weight, my current quarantine crew probably wouldn't really be able to see it past the three-day-old leggings and oversize t-shirts covered in tortilla chip crumbs.

Okay, so what's the longest you have gone without washing your hair? Wait...don't answer that! Everyone's answer is usually their own, personal acceptable length of time and any different answer leaves them open to judge or be judged and THERE IS NO ROOM FOR ANYMORE JUDGEMENT IN THE WORLD RIGHT NOW. We are all gross, so we need to accept this about ourselves and those around us, even if their version of gross differs from ours. We should be taking our cues from the southern states when it comes to our crazy; don't hide it, put it on the front porch and give it a cocktail.

Thanks to social media and all the day drinking occurring all over the world, people have gotten more and more comfortable letting their hygiene-lacking freak flags fly...and I couldn't be more entertained. In case you haven't noticed, the jokes about homeschooling have started to wane. I think it's because the concept of being responsible for overseeing our children't education stopped being funny about two weeks ago. Many school districts decided, weeks ago even, that the rest of this school year would be carried out via distance learning. Other districts are holding onto hope that somehow the last week or two of traditional school will somehow be salvageable. I honestly cannot disagree with either viewpoint. If we have learned anything about how the world is working right now, we have to realize their are no right answers. This whole pandemic is one big grey area of unknown, damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situations. I don't envy the people who actually have to make these decisions. People are going to get screwed no matter how we go about this. This almost seems like the worst kind of zero-sum game. Someone almost always loses in order to benefit someone else.

And these people I live with? Why are they all still here? Sure, David gets up and goes to work five days a week, like always. In fact, his hours are more like his hours during the holidays, only without all the festivities and catchy music. That almost makes it harder to share space with him, though. He's out, working is ass off, while we are all at home. We really don't appear to be pulling our weight in the world right now, but how can we? We mostly just float around the house, dabbling in one distraction after another. Our brains have realized that we have nothing to look forward to, so accomplishing anything of significance feels impossible. Can we even consider any of this procrastination when there are literally no deadlines? All we really know we have is right in front of us right now. I'm trying to learn how to live in the moment better, by watching our dogs. No one lives in the moment like Leo! He has fun on walks, but it's still an ordeal to walk him. He begins the walk by pulling, trying to go as quickly as possible and smell as many icky things as possible. When he gets tired, he will just stop and fall over in the nearest patch of weeds. He lives his best life in every moment, no matter what lies ahead, or how far away from home we might be.

Leo and 17YO take a much needed break during an afternoon stroll. Nobody lives in the moment quite like Leo!

It amazes me how much I still have to learn about these people with whom I share a home. For example, did you know that 14YO likes to repetitively tap random objects when she's near me? I mean, I know the kid is known for her never ending energy, but I have started to get really angry (triggered, if you will) when she does the tapping. 17YO either sleeps all day, works on schoolwork, or follows me around, starting me as if there is some need of hers that I am not meeting adequately. (It's usually because she wants Taco Bell, but not always.) I'm a little worried that some of our family stories might be used as inspiration for a future episode of Criminal Minds, or maybe Snapped! I've also learned a few things about myself during this misadventure. I have learned that hearing someone eat cereal nearby can trigger both rage and nausea, simultaneously. These people go through a lot of milk and cereal. I used to view it as YAY! If they eat cereal, I don't have to cook! Now, I would rather cook a large meal than sit and endure the chomping and slurping on what feels like an endless loop.

This afternoon, as 14YO lounged in the pool, she told me how bittersweet this time at home was. She misses her friends and softball terribly, but she was excited to say this is the first time in years that her shoulders are the same color as the rest of her arms. She truly does usually spend most of her spring and summer in a softball uniform! Most of the time, she's pretty good at finding silver linings and having a good time no matter where she is.

Hmm...maybe Leo is rubbing off on some of us after all!

In the meantime, I alternate between seeing all this time at home as a gift, and pacing various rooms like a caged animal. Is there a way we are supposed to feel about all this? I am worried about the people who are especially at risk if they catch this virus. I'm worried about the economy, especially small business that are stuck in terrible circumstances where they are not producing income, but the bills to keep their businesses afloat are still piling up. I'm worried about the people who don't take any of this seriously and continue to live their best social lives, putting many others at risk. I'm worried about the mental health of those who need support and are spending so much time alone that it's pushing them into a very dark place. I'm worried about teachers and students in the K12 system that have been thrown into a crash course in distance learning, especially those in the elementary level. The teachers and parents of that age group are feeling so much pressure in a whole new world.

Let me tell you, I have been a substitute teacher in a few elementary school classrooms. Like many adults in this world right now, a lot of those children don't stay in their seats. Many of them have the attention span of a goldfish with a brain injury. They are fun, but they are a whole different level of exhausting! Even when schools are opened again, it's being said that they will still try to practice social distancing in the classroom. With the older kids, I can almost see that. I mean, the class sizes would have to be much smaller. Maybe an alternating schedule could be put in place, so that all the students aren't to be on campus at the same time? But, telling any number of second graders not to invade each other's space and to keep their hands to themselves would almost be pointless. This kind of stuff is difficult for most adults to wrap their heads around, much less our children. In the first grade, all three of my daughters learned a song about how getting four hugs a day should be the minimum. Should we rewrite that song?

Six feet awaaaaaay...that's the minimum,

Six feet awaaaaay...no-ot the maximum!

And on that note, stay safe and try to be kind.

Cat Pictures, Country Potatoes, and the Five Stages of Quarantine

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Mon, 06 Apr 2020 03:57:00 +0000

"Seriously woman, you need to find a hobby!"

Day 23 of the Hostage Situation...err, I mean, family bonding time!

I get to leave the house on occasion, so...uh...that's pretty cool. Grabbing groceries and the occasional curbside pickup for food are my only real reasons for going anywhere. The girls are happy to go with me, even if they stay in the car the whole time. People watching in a parking lot is still a change in scenery, and they are happy for any type of change at this point!

There have been a lot of great things coming out of this whole situation, in spite of all the fear and hopelessness the media often portrays. Parades are being organized for the kids who have birthdays and aren't able to celebrate. People are pitching in by sewing masks and delivering groceries to the elderly and people with already compromised health conditions. In so many ways, we are so fortunate and should see this situation for the gift that it is. We are spending more time with family and aren't so stressed out with the typical hustle and bustle that most of us normally endure.

In the beginning, I feel like our cats were pretty happy to have us here. Now, they seem over it. Take Theo, for example. His face in the photo above is pretty much his face these days. It's as if he no longer appreciates our presence! Right? I was surprised, too! I mean, he should feel loved when we are constantly picking him up, kissing him, and shoving our phones in his face to capture just how adorable he is.

On my last shopping adventure, I picked up a large bag of potatoes. I figure potatoes are something I don't ordinarily keep around because I get busy and forget about them if I don't use them right away. I normally buy smaller bags of them for a meal I know I will make in the next day or two, mostly because I know myself and how easily I can forget about things like that.

Seriously, have you ever forgotten about a bag of potatoes and then wondered why it smelled like a dead body decomposing somewhere in the pantry?

This morning, I decided to use a good amount of that bag of potatoes to make some country potatoes. BOY HOWDY! I never knew it took so long to make those stinking things! I'm not kidding, it took me a good two hours just to make those damn things. They turned out tasty, but I'm still not sure why it doesn't cost a hundred dollars to order them in a restaurant. I, for one, will have a whole new appreciation for those things when someone else makes them! I'm likely to never make them again after this.

In spite of all the human kindness we have witnessed, the needed time with our immediate families, and some of the best memes I have ever seen, what we are all experiencing, in one way or another, is grief. We are grieving all the things in our lives we don't have, like social interaction. Grandparents cannot hug their grandchildren, no one can just decide to meet up with a friend for a cup of coffee, and many cannot do their jobs, resulting in no paycheck. I've also noticed a pattern in how people deal with this quarantine, which is so similar to how people deal with grief in general.

The Five Stages of Quarantine

1) Denial

At first, it was really tough to wrap our heads around the fact that this whole quarantine thing is real. This has never happened in my lifetime, since nothing this tragic has ever been this close to home for most of us. Is this really happening, or am I dreaming? Is Ashton Kutcher going to pop out and tell us we've all been Punk'd? No gatherings more than 50 people? That shouldn't change things too much, I guess. Should it? Either way, this will all blow over in a few weeks and life will go back to normal.

2) Anger

We start to feel angry because things in life that are normally as plentiful as we'd like are severely limited. If this doesn't end, high school and college seniors will be robbed of a proper graduation ceremony. And what about parties? People have to work hard to get to this point, but what will it mean without being able to celebrate it with their friends and families in the traditional ways? Sports are put on hold, both school and travel. Who could have predicted that many of these kids' last practice would be their last practice for the school year? What about birthdays? While I tend to think most of us go overboard to celebrate our kids' birthdays, even a simple cake and ice cream celebration with family and a few friends is off the table. People began judging each other about how they live their lives, if they aren't practicing proper social distancing. Public shaming begins to get more and more common. My girls were getting angry that I wouldn't let them hang out with friends anymore and we argued about it a lot.

3) Bargaining

We start looking for loopholes. We try to justify going places and seeing people because we "feel fine." While that's certainly commendable, this virus is known for allowing people to feel perfectly fine and still be contagious. While you are fine, how many people do you come into contact with? This is a situation that no one has really been through before, so it's hard to wrap our brains around it and take it seriously. I mean, we are now looking toward introverted, agoraphobic germaphobes for guidance. There is a small portion of the population that is truly living their best lives right now, with all the social pressures and obligations being on hold right now.

Has anyone reached the end of Netflix yet? I feel like we're almost there!

4) Depression

We feel really sad that we realize this is our new, even if temporary, normal. Will things ever truly return to normal? Will my children EVER go back to school? Why do we even get dressed each day? (spoiler alert: most of us don't!) Do you realize that many of the aspects of the lifestyle we are forced to abide by are also on the list as symptoms of depression? People who suffer from depression likely aren't getting the social support they need. People who thrive on social interaction are also getting depressed. Thanks to social media, FaceTime, Skype, and Zoom, people can still connect with others. It's important that people reach out and do whatever they can to not feel so isolated during this strange time in our lives. Fresh air, sunshine, and exercise ALWAYS help, if even just a little.

5) Acceptance

This will not last forever, but this is how things have to be right now. And it's totally worth it if we are truly able to contain this crazy virus that has now affected everyone in one way or another. The girls no longer argue about seeing their friends. 14YO has started baking. She has also become nocturnal, spending the nights baking cookies and drinking milk, based on how quickly we've been going through butter and gallons of milk recently! 17YO has rearranged her room multiple times, even painting the blades of her ceiling fan and moving shelves around. When she heads toward her room with a power drill, we don't question it. She knows what she wants to do and will figure out how to do it, always leaving things better than she found them.

In the meantime, kids are being guided through their education by their teachers, at a distance, and their day-drinking parents, in the home. There really are no rules anymore! Up is down, down is up! The things that are normally necessary to be healthy could possibly kill you, and the people you love. You are more likely to be negatively judged for standing too closely to another person than for staying in the same clothes for days at a time or consuming alcohol early in the day. Still, the store shelves are empty of toilet paper, bleach, Lysol, and hand sanitizer. The market has been disrupted, especially concerning toilet paper. People panic-bought it all in the beginning of this thing, which now results in people panic-buying it whenever they can find it. As long as I have a couple of week's worth on hand, I'm not going to stress about it. Between watching Tiger King, seeing all the memes about washing hands, touching your face, and toilet paper, I will continue to be entertained by how different people are handling things...especially the ones making the memes. KEEP 'EM COMING!

Keeping Up When Everything is Standing Still

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Mon, 30 Mar 2020 22:16:00 +0000

I finally got around to updating my calendar.

How on earth will I keep this all straight?

No more than a month ago, 14YO was looking at the calendar on the side of the fridge. Most of us have a calendar on our phones to keep us abreast of what's going on, but I like to have a main, centrally located calendar we can all see at a glance. I've honestly been better at keeping this thing up-to-date than I thought I'd be. I even use different colored dry erase markers for each person, though David and I usually share the same color. 14YO's things are usually in blue, while 17YO's things are in red. It helps to see it all in one place and I would probably be lost (or more lost, anyway) without it. Since the youngest in the house happens to also be the busiest (and cannot drive herself anywhere yet), this calendar is usually more blue than any other color.

Despite the fact that this thing has been updated pretty consistently and the colors have remained the same, it was on this day not even a month ago when 14YO happened to look at the calendar and say, "All of the blue stuff is just mine?" I held back what I was really thinking and curtly replied, "YEP." Once the little turd had confirmed that our world pretty much does revolve around her, she chuckled and said, "That's pretty lit."

And then she walked away.

You see, this kid never really stops. She plays travel softball in the spring, summer, and fall. She takes weekly pitching lessons. She plays on school teams for a couple of different sports as well. Between school and friends and sports, my kid is living her best life and I'm her ride. And now...

THERE. IS. NOTHING.

No practices, no games, no school, and no gatherings of any kind. 17YO's prom might be canceled, and it definitely won't happen on its originally scheduled date. We are all getting antsy and anxious for what's to come. Their schools have now pushed the return date back to the beginning of May. If they do go back then, how is this all going to work? The last month of school is normally so chaotic, but imagine trying to cram extra activities of the five or six weeks missed into that last month as well.

*shudders*

I'm not sure if cabin fever has completely set in, but the inability to just go somewhere and see people is starting to wear on me at times. I usually alternate between viewing this time at home as a gift and a hostage situation. I really get why we need to stay away from each other, but not everyone sees it that way. We're really fortunate to live in a time where so many jobs can be done remotely. Thanks to programs like Zoom, teachers are able to connect with their classes and explain lessons, with everyone staying safely in their own homes. Without a better screening process to catch this thing before it spreads or, even better, a vaccine, we need to keep from going places and touching each other just a little bit longer.

In the meantime, 14YO is attempting to bake a cake from scratch. Her attention span is pretty close to that of a goldfish with a brain injury, so we're all a little nervous. She just confused cups with teaspoons and was about to add 1 3/4 cups of baking powder to her mix. If this girl had her own cooking show, it would be found in the comedy section! And only the bravest audience members would want to try her creations. And her show would likely be sponsored by Pepto Bismol and Tums. Don't worry, she can laugh at herself....we taught her how!

Here are a few of the things I am hearing as I type this:

"This cake is going to be BOMB DOT COM."

14YO-"After I finish this cake, they will be calling me Bobby Boucher."

Me-"The Waterboy?"

14YO-"Who?"

Me-"Do you mean Bobby Flay?"

14YO-"Isn't that Adam Sandler?"

Me-"....."

"Mom, what color should I make this cake? I never see green cakes, so I'll make it green."

(Luckily, she changed her mind about that one!)

At least we can say that this experience is a good exercise in her reading comprehension skills and her understanding of science. Or so we can hope. This is a good time to go back to basics in a lot of ways. Board games, jigsaw puzzles, books, and family walks are usually forgotten in the rush of everyday life. When you get sick of that stuff, there's always Tiger King!

“If I were home more, I’d...”

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Mon, 23 Mar 2020 02:47:00 +0000

You guys, is this real life right now? It still feels like we are in a movie. A comedic thriller, of sorts, combining your worst fears with some of the best memes of all time. We joke, but not because we don’t respect the reality of the circumstances. We joke because we need a reason to laugh now, more than ever.

I’ve ignored this blog for years now. A lot has happened the past few years. I earned my bachelor’s degree in psychology. I am about to start applying to get my master’s degree…if I ever nail down the one I want to pursue. The Paradox of Choice is so real in my life right now! The oldest of my spawn is married now. The baby of the family is about to be in high school. My middle daughter continues to make me feel like she is the one raising me, and she is less than a year away from being a legal adult herself. Needless to say, life keeps David and I pretty busy. In fact, I spend a lot of time making excuses for my shortcomings by saying things like, “If I were home more…”

Well, guess what? I’m home more for the time being. David’s job is still considered essential, so he leaves for work everyday. But the rest of us…we are HOME. School, travel sports, and my current position as a substitute teacher are all on hold indefinitely. I know we will get back to our regularly scheduled chaos eventually, but that chaos is something I find myself regularly complaining about. Personally, I don’t do well with little downtime. I need time to withdraw, escape, allow my mind to wander and process all the things. All the things just feels like too many things, most days. It’s safe to say that I identify the most with my self-proclaimed introvert friends. I would rather sit somewhere quiet and read. In fact, the busiest times in my life will find me giving up several hours of sleep, just to find that time alone I crave.

This week, I’ve really had a chance to think about the things I would like to get done with this gift of time that has been bestowed upon me. My girls still have homework online, so that needs to be a priority. 14YO (yes, the baby!) is working on Punnett squares, and I am sort of geeking out in the hopes she lets me help her. It took me one human biology course to realize how much I enjoy Punnett squares. Apparently, I’m way more of a nerd than I ever allowed myself to realize.

I’m okay with that.

The first task I tried to knock out was cleaning up my laundry room. While I’m definitely not finished, I made a huge dent in there. Did you know I have a sink in there? I mean, I guess I knew that, but it’s just been so long since I’ve seen it. At some point, a few small pieces of laundry must have fallen off the top of washer and into the sink. I found little, bitty odd socks and teensy-tiny panties. It’s been such a long time since anyone in this house had such small feet or such a pint-sized backside. Yes, it’s been that long since I’ve seen the bottom of that sink! I didn’t get much use out of the sink for several reasons, so it’s no wonder it’s been so long. But, it’s still ridiculous nonetheless. The faucet is “splashy” and makes more of a mess than is worth it, and the newer front-loading washing machine and dryer are larger than those types of machines were when this house was built. The sink is back in the corner, and there’s not really adequate space to make it easily accessible.

But my usual excuse of “I’m not home enough” is not really going to cut it, given the current circumstances. So, I plan to try to work on those things that I always put off, because I’m “never home.” My two youngest have also started to do things they don’t usually have the opportunity to do. For instance, they have been fighting more. Now, I’m not talking about the usual bickering that comes with fighting over clothes or who gets to choose dinner. These girls have the opportunity to fight over actual space, leading to pushing, screaming, and chasing each other with spray bottles. I, for one, love it. Those kinds of fights have always been so typical between siblings, but often get missed because we are all too busy to really infringe on each other’s space.

That is so sad to me! I feel like we learn so much about ourselves and other people when we have those typical squabbles with our siblings. Also, our world just became a whole lot smaller, even if it’s only temporary. We are bound to have to elbow each other out of our way at one point.

So, there might be quite a few more posts from me over the coming weeks. I mean, what else I am going to do with my time? (Besides sharing memes...I will be doing that no matter what!)

The Thing about Things

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Thu, 18 May 2017 19:03:00 +0000

Tired.

Done.

Tired.

Did I mention 'TIRED?'

We've now reached that point in the year where we suddenly realize that we are juggling way more balls than we are capable of juggling, so we have to decide which ones we will drop. I usually choose housework to drop. (The use of the word 'usually' was totally not necessary.) This is also known as the last month of school. There are also sports-related things, graduation-related things, and friend-related things. Because, things.

The last month of school is a magical time where they decide to wrap up an action-packed school year by ADDING EVEN MORE THINGS. To celebrate all the fantastic things our kids have done and experienced this school year, let's create more things! The biggest problem with this way of doing things is that, mentally, we are already sort of checking out. The weather gets nicer and we begin to spend much of our day envisioning what we will do this summer.(Read: NOTHING) One of the many fun things they typically squeeze into the last month of school is their morning to celebrate MOM. They celebrate mom by making her wake up an extra hour early, loading her up with carbs, and taking a picture of her to commemorate the occasion. I don't mean to sound ungrateful because I think it's fantastic and I know it takes a lot of work to pull it all off. That being said, my children did not get their photogenic qualities from their mother. In every single picture, I sometimes look scared and I usually look angry. This year, I looked drunk. I will consider that an improvement in the realm of my vast collection of bad pictures. As a bonus, my kid looks like she's made of plastic. Like, she's an actual doll.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Exhibit A:

Hey look, that drunk lady brought her life-sized doll to school!

This is in no way the photographer's fault. The photographers at these things are always great. I've seen dozens of fantastic pictures of other people to support that. They seem to turn out really great as long as they don't contain ME. I should gather all the pictures of me in these events over the years and make one hilarious album, but that would just be adding another thing to my list, and that is so not happening right now.

I know I'm not alone in the school-age children spring fatigue syndrome that parents feel, but I also know that I don't have it the worst. Right now, I'm really feeling for my parakeets.

My parakeets just had their second clutch of babies. Their first clutch consisted of four eggs, two of which actually hatched. I was so impressed with the great parents that they turned out to be. They really seemed to be a great little team and took amazing care of their first two babies. However, just as the first set of babies were out of the nesting box full-time and eating on their own, their father started picking on them. I noticed his aggression and that mom was nowhere to be seen. Upon checking the nesting box, I found mom protecting a NEW SET OF EGGS. After a week or two, there were a total of seven eggs in the new clutch. A few weeks later, over the span of a week or two, six of those eggs actually hatched. When they were all tiny, it didn't seem to be very different from the first clutch. But, now they are almost ready to eat on their own, but not quite. They still need to be fed by their parents, but are almost as big as their parents. And there are SIX of them.

I have never felt more empathy for a feathered creature than I do these two parakeet parents. They go through food like CRAZY, the babies chirping to be fed. All. Day. Long. Sometimes, they just sit on the perch outside the box, side by side, half-leaning on one another and looking DEAD TIRED. Until the chirping starts again. Then, they have their own little parakeet argument about whose turn it is to feed the little parasites. They fight a lot more now. Sometimes, they just stare at each other for extended periods of time, while it almost looks like they will bust out a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to help them decide who gets the next shift. (David and I used to use the same approach to decide who had to change the next nasty diaper when ours were tiny!)

Just know, Fred and Ethel, I have never felt like I understood you as much as I do right now.

Well, time is a-wastin' and it's time for me to get back to TRYING TO DO ALL THE THINGS. If I stall around long enough, I won't have time to clean the kitchen.

And that would that really be such a bad thing?

Good Students and Bad Mothers

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Wed, 09 Mar 2016 22:23:00 +0000

Wow. It really is sad how little I write these days, given how much I actually enjoy it. I guess you could say I’ve been a little busy lately. (Like the husband and the three kids don’t make me busy, right?) I actually started something last summer that I wasn’t sure I’d actually have the balls to do…

I went back to school.

That’s right, folks! You are reading the words of a forty-year-old college freshman! I am attending classes with people who went to school with my oldest daughter. It does get a little less awkward over time. A little.

I am what I consider myself to be a former terrible student. I’m trying really hard to amend for the sins of my past and it took a bit of humility to start this process again, basically from scratch. You see, when I was 18 and 19 years old, I should not have been allowed to make my own decisions in life. Really, I seriously needed someone to tell me what to do! I went to my local community college because it’s what a few of my friends were doing. And what else was I supposed to do, right? I didn’t even apply as a high school senior like most of my peers. I just sort of filled out an application and showed up to a few classes, hoping to add them. I did manage to successfully add the classes of my choosing that first semester, but what was I supposed to do after that? It might be surprising for you to learn that actually going to class and completing assignments wouldn’t have been the next step, right? I mean, wasn’t enrolling in the class, paying for it, and buying the books enough? In my terribly stupid young mind, it certainly should have been all it took.

But, the problem with being a barely legal adult is you have a whole new set of rights in this world but you don’t have the brains or life experience to back them up. I never ditched class in high school because I knew they would know and there would be consequences. What consequences? I’m not really sure because I never went there. But in college….in college NO ONE CARES IF YOU SHOW UP. I mean, of course they care and they will drop you if you miss too many classes, but no one ever seems to notice or say anything about that. No one will call your parents or want to schedule a conference. No one can give you detention or intervene in any way. You call your own shots and make your own decisions, no matter how awful or ill-informed they may be!

Eventually, school just sort of became something that just got in the way of my social life and ability to earn minimum wage at my local pet store. I mean, who wants to go to school when it got in the way of all that magnificence? I signed up for classes and only showed up the first few times. I stuck a couple out to the end of the semester without ever doing any of the work outside of class that was asked of me. One semester, I managed to get a B and two Ds. The only way I could possibly explain that is the B was in Art Appreciation and I must have been a visual learner. Other than those three grades (if you can even really call them that!), I received nothing but Ws and Fs in all my other classes. Every. Single. One.

I didn’t pay much attention to those pesky details back then. We definitely didn’t have the resources that we do now to gather that information, either. After two years of complete idiocy, I decided to stop ‘going to school’ (and I use that term loosely!) and just work. Almost a year later, I had my oldest daughter and my future was sort of mapped out for me after that. I got married, became a SAHM, and had a couple more kids. Who needs school when you just want to raise children, right?

WRONG. So. Very Wrong.

20+ years later, I decided to try to go back to school. I had to meet with a counselor to get my pesky Academic Dismissal status taken care of. Apparently, the community college system is not very forgiving and they still remember the idiot I was a lifetime ago. My cumulative GPA was 0.833, so on paper it must have looked like I lacked the mental capacity to tie my own shoes. I was limited to the number of classes I could take at a time and I had to have each one signed off by a counselor before I could enroll in them. I even had to submit progress reports. I called it my ‘Academic Ankle Monitor.’ I recently had my ankle monitor removed and am, once again, free to make my own terrible choices as I see fit when it comes to my education.

So far, school is already significantly easier and more interesting when you actually care about your own success. In most of my classes, I’m amazed by how different it feels to look around the class and see all the younger people throw these opportunities away by barely showing up to class and looking for outfits on Pinterest when they should be taking notes. I can almost tell you which students are only there to keep their parents off their backs and which students will be gone before the end of the semester. After managing a household and raising three kids, it’s so much easier to sit in the classroom and listen to one person talk. (That’s really all I have to do for the next two hours? Just one thing?) It’s taking a lot of effort and some sacrifice to get to my classes each day and I’ll be damned if I waste that class time texting or playing on Facebook. I am there because I want to be and I won’t waste this chance again.

Do you know what’s funny? I’m actually sort of a little smart. I mean, I’m no Sheldon Cooper or anything, but my brain is good for more than just making grocery lists and sorting laundry! I can go to class, do my homework, study, and do well on tests. To me, a good grade almost feels like the paycheck that I haven’t received in more than a decade. Seeing those results on paper (or on my computer as I view my unofficial transcripts online) is like seeing the fruit of my efforts and proof of my success. It’s hard to feel successful when you’re raising kids or taking care of your home because you’re NEVER DONE. I have finished a few classes now and it feels good to know I started something and completed it.

I’m now on the lookout for study methods because I’m taking a short-term biology class that JUST MIGHT KILL ME. Seriously! This will definitely be my most challenging course so far and I really need to know how to take the information off those PowerPoints, out of the book, and get them into my head. I also need to know how to convince that particular teacher that lecturing on two more chapters BEFORE she lets us take the test on the SIX CHAPTERS WE ALREADY LEARNED might be getting in the way of my success. Who are we kidding? She’s just a meanie and wants us to fail. That HAS to be it.

Not being as focused on things at home definitely has its own challenges. 10YO just came home from school wearing a ripped up shirt and a messy pony tail and announced that TODAY WAS SPRING PICTURE DAY. Fan-freaking-tastic! At least I won’t have to worry about whether or not to buy them! I was definitely more nervous and stressed out with my oldest, but I was THERE. My youngest is definitely getting the shaft when it comes to details like these. I was in a rush to leave this morning and didn’t even see what she was wearing to school, nor did I remember it was picture day.

OOPS.

I guess it’s a good thing that this kid takes a mean selfie! Who needs a stuffy old, overdressed photo with a hairdo that never happens in real life, anyway? (MEEE, dammit! ME!) If nothing else, at least she’ll have a few more good stories for her future therapist. So, there’s always that…

On your mark....get set....WAIT WUT?

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Thu, 21 May 2015 19:29:00 +0000

The Home Stretch.

Can you feel it? School is almost over. We are so close that our brains have already tuned themselves to the 'Summer Vacation Channel' and all learning as we know it ceases to exist. Sadly, the teachers are still attempting to teach our little darlings, but they are probably spending twice the time trying to get them to settle down and pay attention than they usually have all year.

Which is why this is the perfect time to get them to showcase their abilities at their school's Open House, right?

Maybe...have some big awards ceremonies to celebrate their accomplishments.

Or, perhaps this would be a good time to test them on how much of this Common Core math stuff they actually understand!

(Actually, go ahead and test them...and let the chips fall where they may!)

At this point in the school year, anything at all just becomes 'One More Thing.' That one tiny extra thing feels like too much. It's the costume we have to throw together to make our sixth graders dress like Disco Duck. It's the flyer about the thing we need to have at the place on the same day of that other thing that we didn't want to go to either. Basically, it's the straw that will break this camel's back. If you invite me to any sort of social gathering during the last month of school, there is a good chance that I will not be there. Because anything social is automatically considered optional at this stage of the game. I choose to do as few optional things as I can possibly get away with because of all the things I have to do just to survive. Surviving spring allergies and softball practice and class parties and team parties and final field trips and remembering to check backpacks for notes that keep us abreast of all the things that all the people need from us so we aren't running to CVS at 11 p.m. on a Sunday for poster board...that will pretty much take everything we've got. Plus, there is always something they forget to tell us or a flyer we missed and we will need to take time away from something else in order to put out that unexpected fire. Scheduling every second of the day with something productive will only backfire on you at this point. Just put one foot in front of the other and quietly plan to run away. You probably won't have to...the end is near! I promise.

This blog here sums it up perfectly, methinks. That woman speaks the truth.

End of school hard.

PREACH!!!

As your children are arguing with you about the school's dress code or those pesky homework assignments or those reading goals that now seem so far out of reach, gently remind them that their days of sleeping until 10 a.m. and FaceTiming their friends in the comfort of their pajamas and watching SpongeBob until their little brains actually implode are so close they should be able to taste them. It's not necessary to mention the summer homework you have planned or the ways you intend to keep their immature frontal lobes from going into complete hibernation over the too short, yet too long summer break. Any additional resistance should be avoided at all cost.

When you find yourself surviving on just caffeine, adrenaline, and fear of failure, just know that it will be enough. We'll all be singing along with Alice before we know it...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=2Oo8QzDHimQ

Fitbits, Crackhead Boxers, and Being Sedentary

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Mon, 17 Nov 2014 22:05:00 +0000

I'm pretty sure that smile is mocking me.

I haven’t considered myself an active human being for a very long time. I know I was a pretty hyper kid, for the most part. Sitting still was one of my greatest challenges when I wasn’t in a classroom setting. (There is a time and place for that sort of thing you know!) My mom always knew that a true punishment for me was to force me to stay somewhere and be still. Since I have my own kids now, I am not sure who truly suffered more when I was forced to stay on a certain piece of furniture or in my room for any length of time. I know for a fact I gave her plenty of hell as she made good on her threats. I also know how exhausting that can be as I am now raising a smaller, maybe even more persistent, version of myself. Reading wasn’t difficult for me, but I never read for pleasure because that required a good amount of sitting still. Although I was terrible at that particular skill as a child, I am excellent at it now.

Seriously. I can, like, out-sit the best of them! Part of me is excited for my next illness or surgical procedure because of all the sitting and lying down that is a part of the recovery process. I had a colonoscopy a few years ago and gained a whole new appreciation for the outpatient procedure. The staff usually works 8-5 and they get regular breaks and lunches. They are usually in good moods and not stressed out about being on their feet for the past 12 hours and never getting the chance to either feed or relieve themselves. They are more open to making small talk and bringing you those blankets from the magical warming oven. That thing is a gift from heaven and we should all take a moment to thank the person who came up with that idea. If you happen to wonder what to get me for Christmas, a magical box that makes things warm so that I can wrap those things around me is pretty high up on my list right about now.

I guess it’s good to know that I still have the same attention span as I did in my youth….I just got away from my point of this post!

SQUIRREL!!!

What I am trying to do is share with the world that I recently got a Fitbit to track my everyday activity. (Why do we now feel so compelled to share this crap with the world? I can probably count on one hand the number of people who might remotely give a damn about this. But share, I must!) I just got the basic model called a Zip so I could clip it to any part of my person and get on with my life. (A rubber bracelet would have annoyed me to no end!) I saw this purchase as a way to track the number of steps I take in a day and give myself small, manageable goals to increase them. Basically, I need to trick myself to make any significant changes in my life.

I’ve been told I’m stubborn, but you’ll never get me to believe that.

They say the average person should take 10,000 steps a day, which ends up being about 5 miles. I feel like I am a pretty busy person, and I’m sure that I still am. However, a lot of the things that keep me busy are things that don’t end up forcing me to move much. (Have you seen that video of the sloth trying to cross the street? I think I’m a lot more like him than I am most of you!)

Apparently, the number of steps I take on average each day places me in the dead center of what most people consider to be ‘sedentary.’

Yes, I’m very proud!

I was certain I moved more than your average pregnant woman on bed rest, but I guess I don’t. I’m pretty sure that whoever can see the data on my Fitbit probably assumes I am part of a royal family who gets carried around on piles of velvet pillows while shirtless bohunks feed me grapes and fan me with palm leaves and…where was I going with this again? I suddenly have a new appreciation for my metabolism and I am not quite sure why I don’t weigh so much that they have to remove one of the walls of my home to get me out of it. As ‘busy’ as I am, it’s clear that not much actual movement is required to fold laundry or cook dinner or wash dishes. Yeah, pretty much most of the things I do in a day involved standing in the same place. There are always those moms who use their kids’ soccer practice as an opportunity to take a brisk walk with a couple of friends. In case you haven’t picked up on it by now; I am not one of those moms! I don’t like walking with other people because my legs don’t listen very well and it takes concentration to not trip over my own feet and keep up with the pace that the other person clearly prefers. I hate to feel like I am slowing someone down. I don’t like to walk alone because….well, because I DON’T LIKE TO WALK. I cannot stress that enough.

I love that I can see firsthand where I need to improve myself. I don’t love that I’m not exactly sure what I want to do with that information. Now that I know how little I actually move, I am way more curious about how many steps other people take in a day. David is a UPS driver. He is moving ALL DAY LONG. How many steps does a typical UPS driver take in a day? I can assume it’s a lot, but I really want to know how many. I am tempted to clip my new toy onto my youngest daughter. The kid seriously never stops moving, with the exception of when she is in class at school. It’s scary how much that one is like her mother. How many steps would the Fitbit count during a cartwheel? She does those things all freaking day. What would happen if I were to clip the Fitbit to the collar of one of my boxers? (Not just any of them, but the youngest one that we affectionately call ‘The Crackhead.’) How many steps does it take to get into a playful scuffle with the other dogs or to chase the dot of a laser pointer? How many steps does it take to walk in enough circles to decide on the perfect place to take a crap? No WONDER my dogs are in such good shape!

I’m pretty sure that whoever could see the data collected on my Fitbit would then think I was a crackhead. Who goes from being sedentary to numbers that are off the charts? And where does one get the pills required to make that happen?

For today, I am hoping to achieve the number of steps that would put me about halfway between what would be considered ‘sedentary’ and the ideal 10,000. I need to embrace my newfound love for yoga pants and athletic shoes and use them for more than just sitting at the table and drinking coffee. Am I the only person in the world who didn’t know how awesome yoga pants are? It’s clear that I should come out from under my rock more often and take a look around.

The world still has a few things to teach me, I guess.

Pick a Team, People!

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Thu, 04 Sep 2014 20:29:00 +0000

So many parents have their children in sports or other extra curricular activities outside of school. There seem to be so many options when it comes to learning about the value of hard work, practice, exercise, winning and losing with grace, and being a part of a team. Those are all very important things that our kids can learn through all of these games and events. Between soccer, baseball, softball, football, cheerleading, 4-H, Destination Imagination, school plays….let’s just say we have a lot of opportunities for our children to learn these basic life skills. As parents, we seem to be overrun with options when it comes to extra curricular activities for our smaller humans. We have so many options that we tend to bite off more than our children should have to chew.

Right now, I have a soccer player, a cheerleader, and a cheer coach. (I can barely count the cheer coach as my responsibility because she is 18, in college, and gets herself where she needs to go. However, she’s still MINE.) We have practice four days a week for those two different teams. Games are on Saturday, but the soccer schedule won’t be made until after the seeding tournament, which is…oh crap, I think that’s coming up soon! I’d better check on that, huh? Those games can be anywhere between 10 minutes and 2 hours away from our house. I know that Saturdays are going to be crazy and David and I might have to divide and conquer to get both younger girls to their respective games when they need to be. Sometimes, one of my girls may have to catch a ride with one of their friends’ parents to get to their game. They are learning to understand that we will make every effort to be at their games, but we make no promises. There are very few good excuses for us to miss their games, as the kids are our priority right now. I usually stay and watch most of the practices too. It’s a good chance for me to see how they are interacting with their teammates and coaches and to actually see their progress as it happens. (Okay, so it’s a good chance for me to read as well. I can multitask!)

Enter: More options.

There is a play coming up. My girls would love to be in it, but rehearsals would overlap with their current practice schedules. This is the part where I feel like we start sort of failing our kids. If I allowed them to audition for the play and they made it, they would be forced to choose who they are going to let down on a regular basis. Will we let the soccer team down in favor of play practice? Will we miss half of play practice in order to make it to soccer practice on time? What if there is a soccer game on the actual day of the play? We would be forced to make a choice and would be disappointing someone no matter which choice we made. And somehow, parents are making that seem like it’s okay. It’s okay to let the team down and not show up for soccer because we want to do this other thing this weekend. After all, team loyalty and commitment aren’t really all that important, right?

So, so wrong.

In addition to the play, the girls have also expressed an interest in taking piano lessons and gymnastics. I know these kids are young. I know they have so many possibilities ahead of them that we can’t help but sign them up for as many activities and experiences as possible. I also know that the world wouldn’t end if 11YO didn’t show up for a soccer game or 8YO missed a football game. But the lessons they really need to learn from these activities aren’t just about getting better control over a soccer ball or learning how to kick higher. When you sign your child up for a team or activity, they are making a commitment to their team to always show up and do their best. (Within reason, of course. Illness and one-time family commitments are pretty much the only things that should take priority over that promise they made to their team.) Whether our kids ended up enjoying their team sports or not, they have to finish out the season. They made a commitment and it should be honored. Even if they get injured and cannot participate, they should be at those games cheering on their teammates. That also helps reinforce the feeling that they are an important part of that team. Kids need to feel important to people besides their family members and that doesn’t usually happen when they are allowed to half-participate in a dozen different things.

On top of practice schedules and games, kids also need to squeeze in homework, time with friends, and time to just be kids without anyplace to go or anything that has to be done. Basically, they need time to be bored. They need time to be kicked outside to wander around the yard or ride bikes. They need the chance to build a blanket fort in the living room or to work on crafts or put a puzzle together. Some of my favorite days are the ones where nothing is planned. (Those are, truthfully, my most favorite days EVER!) They don’t usually start out very fun, though. My kids usually approach me and point out that we NEVER do anything fun and all of their friends have way more exciting lives than they do. Why can’t we DO something fun? Why can’t we GO somewhere? Those days start out with lots of complaints from the peanut gallery, but usually end with a board game that has been hiding in a closet or an adventure in the yard where they pretend they are running a restaurant or trying to survive in the wilderness. I don’t initiate those things. I simply ignore their whining and they eventually end up doing things that kids are supposed to be doing and having way more fun than they expected to have. Like it or not, they are going to have to live with themselves for the rest of their lives. They need to know what to do with themselves when there is nothing to do. That’s when they truly start to figure out who they are as people.

No, my kids won’t be auditioning for the upcoming play. 8YO won’t be playing Fall Ball, even though she loves softball, because the practice schedules are likely to either overlap with cheer practice or fill up the rest of our week with obligations. It would probably either burn her out, cause her grades to suffer, or make her feel like giving less effort because she will be spreading herself so thin. She is eight years old. The skills she would learn in a second sport or activity at this time in her life aren’t as important as the lesson she is learning about prioritizing and following through on her commitments. In the spring, she plans to play softball again. If she changes her mind before signups and wants to do something else, then she won’t be playing softball. I allow my kids to choose their activities, but it’s up to David and me to make sure they learn how to follow through. According to my kids, I am the mean mom that won’t let them do more than one extra curricular activity at a time.

I can live with that.

Prioritizing, Nudist Colonies, and Houseplant Homicide

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Wed, 16 Apr 2014 21:08:00 +0000

Hello, my name is Leann…and I have some bad habits.

Don’t we all, though?

(Seriously, I need you to say that I’m not alone here.)

And just like that, I reveal what is probably my worst and most self-destructive habit: I spend a good part of each day second-guessing myself. What am I doing right now that I actually should be doing? Well, it’s quite obvious that I am writing this…but is that the most important thing? I guess everyone needs an outlet, but it’s hard to tell myself that this is the thing that I should be doing right now. After all, there are dozens of other things that I could and probably should be doing. The kitchen tablecloth should be changed. There are crumbs on it. I seriously need to give my floors a good mopping. And vacuum my couch. There is always laundry that could be washed. And I do realize that closing the blinds is only a temporary solution to dirty windows. (At least, that’s what I keep telling myself!)

In case you haven’t noticed, this is not one of those blogs you can refer to for cleaning and organizing tips!

The sad reality is that those things will always need to be done. Sure, I have joked about dragging my family to live on a nudist colony for the sole reason that I would be more likely to feel like the laundry is actually DONE at some point. Even when it’s all washed, dried, folded, and put away, the stuff we’re wearing…IT’S DIRTY! (Sure…it would be awkward, but I’m hoping the sense of accomplishment I might get from having the laundry completed a more attainable goal would outweigh the things I and my family would not be able to UNsee.)

On a day like today, it’s fairly easy to convince myself that all those chores are not the most important thing. I can argue a good case in favor of this theory, really. After all, do I really want my headstone to say, “Leann…Beloved Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, and she kept a very tidy pantry?” In all honesty, I don’t think I could really be the sort of person who stays on top of everything amiss in my home. I don’t seem to be able to find any middle ground between acting like I don’t really care and screaming, “YOU PEOPLE ARE RUINING MY LIFE AND ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH ANYTHING OR SIT ANYWHERE EVER AGAIN.” I can’t seem to find the motivation to follow behind my family members and pick up the trails of crap they leave behind as they meander from one room to another without building up a fair amount of resentment toward them.

And how exactly does a pair of shoes end up with each one in a different room? Also, do not get me started on the Rainbow Loom rubber bands that can be found along the baseboards, under the furniture, and in every pile of crap I sweep up from any room in the house!

I don’t think we are necessarily messier than other people; we just don’t have good habits in place to stay on top of things. I don’t think to do a nightly sweep of the living room and other common areas to put things away and straighten up everything. (How are people find that kind of energy and ambition at the end of their day?) But, in all fairness, I also don’t think to water plants or feed fish on a regular basis either. My children and pets stay alive because THEY TELL ME WHEN THEY NEED SOMETHING. AND THEY DO NOT LET ME FORGET.

I’m also pretty sure there is a mug shot of me somewhere behind the register of every garden area in every chain store in this county with the caption, ‘DO NOT sell live plants to this woman. She’s a threat to houseplants and basic horticulture as we know it. Selling a live plant (of any kind, no matter how drought or flood tolerant you might think it to be) to her is basically giving that plant a death sentence.’

Part of my problem is my whole thought process. Most people might notice that a plant needs water and….oh, I don’t know….WATER IT. For me, it’s not that simple. First of all, I will need to get some form of container full of water in my hands. Usually, I just dump a half-full water bottle that is probably left on the coffee table or wherever. That’s is not always a guaranteed thing to find, though I usually find it more often than not! Even then, the number of things that grabs my attention before I can get the water to the plant and actually water it can be staggering. I might see something else that needs to be put away. I might remember a phone call I was supposed to make or something crucial that might need to be added to that week’s shopping list. If any one thing gets in my way between me and the act of watering that plant, that poor plant doesn’t stand a chance of being watered on that particular day! The next day doesn’t usually look good either. (Sadly, the problem with grabbing half-empty water bottles to water my plants is that I sometimes end up overwatering the plants. I possess absolutely no intuition whatsoever when it comes to the needs of all things green. Also, I have little to no natural sunlight in my house…and I like it that way!)

A couple of years ago, I read a book that made an impact on how I see things. I should probably read it again. It’s called ‘The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business.’ It really spoke to me. In the book, they talk about how the creators of Febreeze first struggled to even give the product away and then went on to make it a household name. They did this by making people believe that it should be a crucial part of their daily routine. It also talks about Target and how they give us all these deals in order to track our purchases and send us coupons relevant to where we appear to be in our lives, thus getting us back in their store more often. For example, an adult female who purchases a pregnancy test and yoga pants is most likely pregnant and they will mail her coupons for baby stuff. An adult male who purchases dinnerware and linens is probably going through a divorce or moving to a new place and they will send him coupons for frozen dinners and basic toiletries. If they can predict the habits of the customer, they can make themselves more relevant and necessary in the everyday lives of those customers . Shopping at Target will become a regular habit for people and they will go there more often. It’s genius, really! I imagine the stores that require a membership have that same ability. Just recently, I went to Sam’s Club and purchased nothing but a jar of coconut oil and a package of men’s underwear.

What does that say about my life, Mr. Walton?

I need to get into the habit of….getting into better habits. I just feel like all the jobs I need to do as a mother are distracting me from the jobs I need to do as a mother! I usually spend most days in survival mode and just conquer what seems to be most important that day. If 8YO has a softball game or 11YO has a soccer game, laundry is likely to seem more important. If we run out of clean forks, running the dishwasher gets bumped to the top of my list of things to do. (But seriously, how do these people go through so many forks?) Some days, my priorities don’t concern anything in the house and are all about running errands and shuttling the kids from one place to another. If someone is coming over, well…then it becomes my priority to go into ‘crisis mode’ and run around screaming at those fork-overusing, shoe-losing, Rainbow Loom rubber band-dropping people I seem to have spawned. They are actually able to clean quite well when you put a little pressure on them. (The fact that I am usually shooting flames out of my eyes and foaming at the mouth by that point doesn’t hurt either.)

Thanks to that book, I’ve realized that we all have the power to overcome addiction, poverty, depression, and improve our overall lives by being honest with where we are in life and replacing one bad habit at a time with a good one.

But will I ever have the power to keep houseplants alive?

Probably not.

Let Them Feel

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Fri, 07 Feb 2014 19:58:00 +0000

Our family has recently suffered a loss. Okay, so we lost something we only knew existed for a little over 24 hours, but it was a loss just the same.

The day before yesterday, I was on the phone with a friend when I heard this horrible screeching noise coming from outside. I peered out the blinds onto the back patio first. My three dogs once caught a baby opossum and played with it to death, so I naturally assumed they were part of the reason for the terrible sounds of suffering I was hearing. The back patio was vacant and quiet, meaning the dogs were somewhere in the rest of the yard napping. The sound was definitely coming from the front yard.

I stepped out my front door to see this little white creature hopping frantically in circles and screaming while my cat clumsily stalked it. Thankfully, my cat is a very crappy hunter. The creature in question was a baby bunny. A really freaked out baby bunny. I quickly put my cat in the house and chased the bunny toward my front door. It wedged itself between the building and this old metal milk jug that sits on our front porch. I reached down and picked up the critter, who was sort of frozen in fear at that point. While trying to get a better look at my latest discovery, the little booger did this little ‘ninja maneuver’ where it did a back flip out of my arms and landed back on the concrete. I quickly scooped the furball up in my arms for the second time. My mind was instantly reeling, trying to both figure out where the bunny could have possibly come from and what I could do with it to keep it safe until I knew what we were actually going to do with it. Keep it? Find a home for it? I knew what David would want (not another pet, that’s for sure!) and I knew what the girls and I would want. (The more the merrier, right?)

How could one NOT want to keep this little bundle of adorableness? I will name him George, and I will hug him, and pet him, and squeeze him…and pat him, and pet him…and rub him and caress him…

The girls were so very excited to find out, when they got out of school, that there was a bunny waiting at home. Since I have a bit of experience with rabbits, (from the years I worked in a pet store and the menagerie of critters we had when I was growing up) I know that handling a rabbit too much in general is a bad idea. Handling a young, recently freaked out little rabbit is a really terrible idea. Rabbits are prey; flight animals, if you will. Too much attention can stress a rabbit out when it’s most basic instincts are telling it that it’s life is constantly in danger. Now, once a rabbit is strong and used to it’s people and environment, they can be handled more and even trained to run around the house like a dog. I have personally seen a few rabbits that really didn’t seem to know that they weren’t, in fact, dogs. I carefully explained to the girls that we needed to leave this bunny alone as much as possible until it got over its PTSD or whatever you call the current state of a recently freaked out little critter. (If you have never heard a bunny scream, consider yourself lucky. It’s traumatic for all who have to hear it.)

I gave the rabbit a medicine dropper of water every couple of hours, letting the girls touch and pet it a bit when I had it out. Other than that, the bunny spent most of that first day in a box, hiding under an old beach towel.

We had an old rabbit cage and I was able to get the girls to clean it out. I borrowed a water bottle and some alfalfa hay from my friend (Thanks Jenn!) and had 17YO pick up a small bag of rabbit food. For the rest of the day, the bunny only took small amounts of water and had no interest in eating anything.

The next morning, we woke up to what seemed like a whole new rabbit. Its eyes were brighter, its ears were up and swiveling in the direction of any noise it heard, and its little nose was pink and constantly twitching. It nibbled on a small piece of carrot and a tiny bit of alfalfa hay. I was excited to see it finally had an interest in food, but relieved it only ate a little. Bunnies also have delicate tummies and don’t handle changes in their diet very well.

Seriously, why do people have rabbits as pets? Your instincts to want to feed them a lot of food and snuggle them constantly COULD KILL THEM. What kind of pet is that?

The most freaking adorable kind, that’s what!

11YO poses with the bunny that morning. Seems fine, right?

This little thing fit in my hand! Who wouldn’t want to keep it safe and make sure it thrives?

Basically, we came home yesterday to find the bunny was, once again, listless. Within mere hours, the bright eyes we saw that morning were nowhere to be seen. The ears were not up and there was no fight left in it as we scooped it up and held it. I attempted to give it more water, dehydration being the only thing I would possibly know how to treat…even though, knowing its water intake, I didn’t think that could be it. It didn’t accept or fight the water. I placed it back in the cage, under the towel where I knew it felt safest, and left it alone. I warned the girls that it didn’t look like the bunny would survive. After all, we had no idea where it came from, how old it was, or what had happened to it prior to its appearance in our front yard.

Within half an hour or so, the bunny started having seizures. The girls initially started to giggle because it’s something they have never really witnessed before. Seeing a little baby rabbit rolling across the bottom of its cage was unexpected, to say the least. I quickly explained that it wasn’t a good thing and that it couldn’t help it.

Sadly, 11YO, 8YO, and I watched the bunny take its last breaths within a few minutes. 11YO and I just watched quietly as 8YO threw herself onto the couch, wailing. I explained that the bunny could have come here sick and sometimes things die and we can’t save them. Life is fragile, especially when it comes in the form of a fluffy, white, baby rabbit. After many tears, (all from 8YO, mind you. 11YO is more like I am and doesn’t cry as often.) the girls decided they wanted to bury the rabbit. On their own, they chose a spot and dug the hole. I inspected the hole and, once I helped them make it a bit deeper, we all came inside to get the bunny’s body. I got an old pillowcase and 8YO carefully picked the bunny up and wrapped it up. She ceremoniously carried the bunny outside and placed it in the grave, picked up a handful of dirt, and looked to me for approval before throwing the dirt on the bunny. I told her it was okay to do that and that a lot of people do that at funerals, either dropping handfuls or even shovelfuls of dirt on the casket before it is lowered into the ground. (It gives many people a sense of closure to be a part of the process of burying a loved one and I think it’s a beautiful tradition.) We finished covering the grave with dirt and the girls placed a small stick in the ground to mark the spot.

We stood outside a few minutes and then the girls put the shovels away and we all came back into the house. The rest of the evening included homework, showers, dinner, and making s’mores in the fireplace. There were, however, no more tears. The night was exactly as it needed to be.

While I am certainly not happy that the poor rabbit died, I’m glad my girls got to experience those feelings of loss and sadness. These are life skills that so many kids are being denied the privilege of learning. Like most parents, I don’t take pleasure in seeing my kids suffer. However, I know they need to. I have to put aside my own needs and remind myself that part of being a good parent is letting them fall down sometimes. That’s the only way they can learn to pick themselves back up again. They need know how to feel things, good or bad, and deal with those feelings accordingly. I can’t tell them how to feel or that their feelings are wrong. Everyone needs to come to their own conclusions in life based on their own expectations and experiences. I never follow a lecture or punishment up with an immediate hug and words of affection. They need to feel remorse for wrongful actions and I can’t allow them to skip that part to make myself feel better. They need to learn to feel regret and decide for themselves why their actions or words were a bad choice.

I look around and see so many kids that don’t seem to be getting those life lessons. It would have been so easy to try to shield my girls from the death of the bunny. I could have sent them to their rooms or offered to take them somewhere else. Protect them from the sadness. I could have promised them another bunny right away or something else they have been wanting me to buy them. I could have done so many things to stop the tears and distract them from the sadness they were feeling at that very moment. But they needed to feel that. And I would much rather they learn to deal with their feelings of losing a bunny they had barely known existed for a full day before they lose a significant person in their lives. The stages of grief need to be dealt with whether you are dealing with losing a goldfish or a family member. Death is a big part of life and we have no real control over that. We just have to learn how to get through it.

When I worked at the pet store, I can’t tell you how many phone calls I took from frantic parents who were looking for the exact duplicate of a pet that just died so that they could replace it before their children either got home from school or noticed they were gone. Even at the age of 18, before I had kids or even a clue about life, I had to fight my urge to tell those parents that they should just let their children find out that their pet died. They should be allowed to cry and be sad. If they want to storm to their bedroom and slam their door, let them. If they want it, they should be showered in hugs and kisses and be encouraged to share stories about the pet they lost. They should be reminded of how lucky they were to have spent time with something that grew to mean so much to them. And they should be given the chance to pick themselves up and move on with their lives. It’s okay to be sad. Don’t stifle or distract them from the truth.

Tomorrow’s not promised to any of us, right? That’s a good reminder to enjoy today a little more; appreciate what we have right now and the memories of what we used to have and have already lost. It’s made us who we are and maybe we can use those skills and experiences to make the world a better place, one dead bunny at a time.

Making Lists, Ball Point Pens, and Toenail Clippers

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Tue, 26 Nov 2013 09:01:00 +0000

Thanksgiving is in just three (oh, crap! It’s after midnight!)…so no, TWO days from now. I have started making my list of things I would like to get done to make the day run more smoothly. I always plan to plan ahead. Then, I procrastinate to the point where I have to begin choosing which things I can do without getting done because there is no longer enough time to possibly do them all.

Of course, I needed to get the updates done on my computer first.

Why? Because it was important to me at the time. It was the ‘something shiny’ that caught my attention at that exact moment and…well, that’s it! Do I need a reason? (Yes.) Well, I don’t have one, so that’s as good as it’s going to get.

Okay, that pesky task is out of the way now. Imagine how much better the turkey will taste now that my computer is fully updated!

Seriously…that sounded so much more intelligent in my head.

I grabbed a pen and a paper (which would also not work nearly as well if my computer didn’t have all of its updates) and started jotting down the things I plan to get done tomorrow. As I’m writing down the second item on my list, I notice the pen isn’t working right. It works when I make the test scribbles on the top of the paper, but not when I try to write down the actual words I need to write down.

How do ball point pens know to do that?

I think I’d better add ‘Toss out old pens’ to my list. If I had a working pen, I totally would! It’s not as if we don’t have any working pens in this house. I’m sure there are probably hundreds of them around here somewhere. However, they seem to stay hidden in the same place with all the toenail clippers and the tape measurers we’ve ever bought.

Honestly, where in the hell do those things go? How many pairs of toenail clippers have your purchased in your lifetime? How many can you find right now? See?

I think it’s time to call it a night. I find the process of making lists simply exhausting. Tonight, it just wasn’t meant to be. Let’s just hope that the few things I wanted to write down will still be in my head first thing tomorrow morning.

Well, okay…I at least hope to see them again after I’ve had my first cup of coffee!

In closing, here is a picture of 7YO (when she was FOUR) taking a selfie.

She even has ‘the look’ down, doesn’t she? I can already see her a few years down the road posting an Instagram pic (or whatever app the whipper-snappers are into by then!) after spending two hours between makeup, hair, and editing only to write,

#nofilter #nomakeup

Don’t you just love social media? Everyone can be exactly who they really are.

I Just Need a Broom and a Dustpan....and a HOUSEKEEPER!

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Sun, 24 Nov 2013 06:31:00 +0000

AAAAAACHOOOOO!!!!!

Man, there sure was a lot of dust piling up on this thing! The only thing I can say about my latest absence from the blogosphere is: This blog is always on my list of 'Things to Do'...it just always gets kicked to the bottom of the list!

And then I blinked.

I blinked and school was out. It was summer vacation and I was finally going to get to do ALL THOSE THINGS I HAD BEEN TOO BUSY TO DO DURING THE SCHOOL YEAR.

(I didn't do most of them.)

Then, I blinked again.

I blinked and school was about to begin again. I was sad to see our summer come to and end, but looking forward to embracing some sort of routine again. Although I find too much structure and too many 'have tos' in my day stifling, I definitely lack the motivation to get very much done of my own accord. To quote a friend,

"You should definitely not be left unsupervised!"

As much as I love to be alone, I tend to agree with her.

Since I almost feel the need to introduce myself again because I haven't been here in so long, I guess I should fill you in on the latest amusing anecdotes of my spouse and spawn. (David, 17YO, 10YO, and 7YO.)

David is....well, he's David. :-) Most days, I consider that to be a pretty good thing. Most days.

17YO is a senior in high school and drives. Yes, they allow her on the road with other people and pedestrians and dog walkers and such. Most days, I feel okay about that. She wants to be an orthodontist and, coincidentally, just got braces last month. I think she would actually make a great orthodontist because she has excellent people skills and would most likely be known for her amazing bedside (or chairside) manner. The college and scholarship application process is underway and I sort of feel like a circus dog with all the flaming hoops that still need to be jumped through. It's a complicated process, but I am lucky because 17YO is doing almost all of it. Her school seems to be very thorough about pointing them in the right direction for college and scholarships, but only time will tell. We don't see her much and she always seems to need more time and money.

10YO is doing really well. She is thriving in fifth grade, adores her amazing teacher, and is just finishing up her first season (Well, first season since she was five!) playing soccer. She loves it and wants to continue with the indoor and spring seasons coming up. My quiet introvert really seems to be finding her place with her friends, teammates, and classmates. It's nice to see the timid ones come out of their shells. She is a stickler for rules and order and doesn't have much of a tolerance for anyone that doesn't walk the 'straight and narrow' right along with her. I'm hoping she'll eventually loosen up a bit. (I'm sure most of her friends are too!)

7YO does pretty well in almost everything she does. She loves second grade and and her teacher. She seems to make friends well and doesn't seem to struggle with any particular subject in school. Not yet, anyway! She does, however, seem to struggle with patience. She seems to have quite a bit of natural charisma WHEN SHE IS NOT AT HOME. At home, as my mom so aptly pointed out one day, "That child would argue with a stop sign!" (Yes, Grandma really nailed that metaphor!) We pretty much just keep our fingers crossed that she uses her powers for good and not evil. Once again, only time will tell!

I am just plugging along. I changed my eating habits and lost twenty pounds. Okay, so I tried to make eating less of a habit than it had been. I also cut out most of the junk. I am to the point where the junk makes me sick if I overdo it. I need that sort of consequence or I will continue to overeat and outgrow my pants. I am a glutton, plain and simple. I am also currently an auburn-ish brunette. Change is good, right?

I am still searching for the keys to happiness, wealth, success, a house that cleans itself, and meals that prepare themselves. Oh, I would also LOVE to find a faster way to knit socks! (Because two years just seems like a long time to get a pair of socks done!)

Okay, so I didn't spend the entire two years knitting them...I just have the attentioin span of a gnat most days and my projects spend a lot more time in the craft closet than they do in my mind!

I used my handy dandy (yet seriously outdated) scrapbooking program and made a little extra decoration for my fireplace mantle.

I also like to spend a little time each day annoying my girls. The oldest is the most fun, even though she is by far the easiest to annoy. Recently, I took several selfies of myself and my cat and kept text them to her throughout the day. She told me I needed to get dressed and leave the house.

My work here is done.

If You Ask Leann for a Cookie...

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 22:03:00 +0000

Sometimes I feel like this book was actually written about ME.

Sometimes I'm the poor victim who gets suckered into giving that needy, easily distracted little rodent a cookie, and sometimes I'm the mouse. Sometimes it's a cookie I'm given (or a request to bake some!) and sometimes it's a task or an idea. The cookie can also be seen as the mess left behind by the rest of my family...who also take turns as the role of that pesky mouse.

Just last night, one of my darling children lost her grip on an almost full gallon jug of apple juice as she was retrieving it from the fridge. It landed sideways, the cap broke off, and apple juice instantly covered my kitchen floor. During dinner. Now, I guess I've just cleaned up too many messes to let this one disrupt my dinner. The child in question mopped up the juice and resumed eating her dinner. While it looked clean, I knew that there would be a sticky residue left behind and told myself I would be mopping it tomorrow. I did mop it today, but I still need to go over it again. I'll leave the mop out to remind myself to do it, but I'll probably stop noticing it right away and won't remember what it's for until I stumble across a sticky spot I missed when mopping the first time. I'll try to get to it tomorrow.

By the way, 'tomorrow' is actually my very favorite day to complete any task. My desk needs organizing? I'll get right on that. Tomorrow. See how easy that is?

I have been meaning to write a letter to someone in response to their letter to us. I really wanted to respond correctly to the original letter and needed to find it first. That makes sense, right? It's just too bad that there were so many things to grab my attention between my computer and where the original letter was most likely kept. Just walking down the hall it always occurs to me that there is laundry to wash, dry, or put away, and there are bathrooms to clean and closets that must contain that *thing* that I had been looking for and forgotten about but I am convinced I really need to find right now but was probably sidetracked by something else the last time I tried to locate said item.

See how easily it happens?

If you ask Leann for a cookie,
she'll decide she needs to bake some.
While she starts gathering the ingredients,
she will realize that she doesn't have any butter.
She will decide to go to the store,
but she won't have time to get back before the kids get out of school.
She will start to make a list of other things she needs from the store,
when she notices that the recycling stuff needs to be taken out.
When she starts to gather the recycling,
she will remember there is a plastic jug in the garage that needs to be added to the rest of the recycling stuff.
When she goes out into the garage to grab that last jug,
she will realize that there are a few pairs of the girls' shoes out there too.
When she brings the shoes back into the house and puts them in the proper rooms,
she will see the dirty laundry in the bedroom floors.
Once she starts gathering the laundry,
she will remember that she needs to wash a few towels as well.
As she heads into her bedroom to grab the last few towels to make a load,
she will notice that the cat needs more water.
While she is giving the cat fresh water in his dish,
she will notice that her bathroom counters need to be wiped down.
While grabbing the supplies from under the sink,
she notices that she will soon need to buy more toilet paper.
As she walks back down the hall to update her shopping list,
she will notice some hand prints on the door frames.
As she grabs the Lysol wipes to clean the door frames,
she will remember that it is cold and flu season and she should disinfect the door knobs and light switches.
As she is wiping the door knobs and light switches,
she will remember how much the Lysol wipes dry out her hands.
As she goes back into her bathroom to find some lotion,
she will notice that she hasn't made her bed yet.
As she makes her bed,
she remembers the remote control needs new batteries.
Once she is in the kitchen getting the batteries,
she will realize that she is hungry.
While she heats up some soup in the microwave,
she will remember that the dishwasher needs to be unloaded.
As she unloads the dishwasher,
she realizes how disorganized her plastics cupboard is.
As she is straightening out the cupboard,
she finds things that she does not need and can be recycled.
After she adds the items to the bag,
she remembers that one plastic jug is still in the garage.
While she is back in the garage to retrieve the jug,
she notices that she will need to buy more dog food soon and should add it to her list.
While she is adding dog food to her shopping list on the fridge,
she realizes that she is forgetting an appointment for today and can't remember the time.
As she grabs her phone to check the time of the appointment on her calendar,
she realizes she missed a text from her daughter.
As she is texting her daughter back,
the house phone rings.
I could go on and on, but I can almost promise you that she will not be baking any cookies today. She will probably be late to her appointment and hasn't even thought about dinner yet!

Story. Of. My. Life.

I can be busy all day and get next-to-nothing actually accomplished. Some days, I can put my blinders on and walk past the other things that need attention and actually complete a task. Most of the time, that is not the case. As I type this, I realize that I still have a few things to do before I need to pick up the girls from school and race to an appointment.

Lucky for me, most of those things can be done tomorrow.

Someone Needs a Spanking

noreply@blogger.com (Leann I Am) — Mon, 20 Aug 2012 03:21:00 +0000

I somehow managed to get a subscription to two different magazines that I never actually subscribed to. I haven't paid a dime nor received a bill for either one, yet they are sent to me, personally, each and every month. I guess the magazine gods are playing a joke on me, because the magazines in question are Rolling Stone and Parenting.

Anyone who really knows me knows that I am not that extreme in either direction. Not. At. All.

I like to skim through each of them, when time permits. I used to especially look forward to the 'Ask Dr. Ozzy' column in Rolling Stone where people would actually seek advice on anything from love and addiction to personal hygeine from the Great Ozzy Osbourne himself.

*shakes head*

I used to have a real and purposeful subscription to Parenting magazine. When my girls were younger, I was reading anything I sould get ahold of to find answers to whatever question would come up. How to deal with tantrums, picky eaters, and the seasonal cold were at the top of my list of things to worry about. And the younger, more naive version of me would actually read these articles with an open mind and hopeful outlook.

This article will answer all my questions and change my life, I just know it.

*shakes head*

I might as well have been reading 'Ask Dr. Ozzy' so much of that time.

While I know they usually mean well, the whole idea of 'parenting advice' just seems to have gotten out of hand. They change the rules so stinking often I can't keep them straight. By the time you no longer need advice on getting your baby to sleep through the night or how to handle hitting or biting, they have already changed the rules that you attempted to follow anyhow.

Just think about how we were raised. If you are reading this blog and are my age, (30-ish *cough* cough*) you were most likely spanked as a child. You were also most likely put on your stomach to sleep as an infant and quite possibly (if your parents were a little more 'old school') given a rag soaked in a bit of whiskey on it to chew on to get you through teething. If you are from a previous generation, it's possible that your parents dipped your pacifier in HONEY to get you to take to it and stripped your infant body naked and put you in a window for a certain amount of sunlight on sunny days. And sunscreen did not exist back then.

Amazingly, you are still alive to read this blog right now. While I'm not yet 40, I never had a bike helmet and seat belts were optional throughout much of my childhood. My mom still has the car bed from when my brother and I were infants. (A car bed is a bed that is strapped in the back seat and the baby just lies in it to sleep while you drive, most likely rolling from side-to-side when your brake or accelerate.) We rode around in the backs of pickup trucks and our mothers were not discouraged from smoking or drinking while pregnant with us. My mom had trouble with anemia when she was pregnant and her doctor had her eating barely cooked liver on a regular basis to try to boost the amount of iron in her blood.

And yet here we all are. Alive and well to judge others for the crappy job that they're doing with their kids.

If I have learned anything about raising children, it's that there are no rules that apply to everyone. Each one of these miniature human beings have their own personalities, agendas, and motivations. No two people are the same. I am raising three completely different people. (Though sometimes, it feels more like they're raising me.)

My oldest is so terribly easy-going she doesn't often seem real. I could reason with her at a young age in a way that a lot of parents only dream. I can't really take any credit for that. (Though the younger, less insightful mother in me might have tried.) She is who she is. She naturally wants to please those around her and wants to take pride in herself for a job well done. (Except for when it comes to doing most chores around the house. She is, after all, still a teenager!) She tries her hardest at school and to be a good person in general. If I could figure out how I did that, I would probably be able to write a book and make millions. However, I'm pretty sure I didn't really have all that much to do with it. (Okay, so maybe the fact that she hasn't been raised in a CRACK HOUSE has been somewhat helpful, but still.)

My second-born is a completely different person. While she's not quite as motivated to please others as her older sister, she is hell-bent on following the rules. In her world, black is black and white is white. There is very little gray in the world of my 9YO. She is also thoughtful and sensitive and can appear to be extremely serious if you don't know her that well. Just like her dad, 9YO can look downright angry when she's not smiling. I still catch myself trying to read their faces from across the room to see if I can guess whether they are angry or just not smiling. And I'm not always right. They have got to be two of the most difficult to read faces in this world. But their hearts are both made of gold and the anger doesn't usually last long, if there is any anger there at all. She is just so much like her dad as far as her work ethic and how much she values honesty. That's just who she is. 9YO can be too serious sometimes, but is usually your typical goofball kid at home. (Though a lot of people don't believe me when I tell them that!)

And then there's 6YO. She's our wild card. She's not quite the pleaser that her oldest sister is, nor is she the rule-keeper that her other sister is. She's sort of a mixture of both. But really, 6YO is all about the audience. Miraculously, she still leaves most of her drama at home and is the perfect student in class. She realizes that her job at school is to follow the rules and do what she's told. I can't say that she won't participate in her share of drama as she grows, but she seems to want to follow the rules for now where school is concerned. (Thankfully! That's the one I was most worried about.) At home, 6YO lives to argue and create drama wherever she goes. When she's not making me crazy, she's making me laugh. I like to joke that she's not sure if she wants to be an attorney or a clown when she grows up. She could quite easily be either one. Or both.

All three of my girls have been pretty much been raised in the same environment. I attempted to spank all three when they were toddlers. (I say 'attempted' because it wasn't an effective method for my youngest.) Yes, I believe in spanking. I don't believe in beating the crap out of a child or taking our my own frustrations on them, but I believe in a swift swat on the bottom (which is usually diapered because it shouldn't really be necessary to spank someone who is old enough to be out of diapers.) If I draw a line in the sand and they cross it, there is a consequence. End of story. While I do believe in spanking, I don't believe that every child needs to be spanked. I also don't believe that spanking will work on every child. Nor will time-outs. But I have always spanked with a clear head

I think the bottom line is that the only parenting technique that I have ever seen work for every single child is consistency. And you can't possibly be consistent if you follow all the trends in those obnoxious parenting magazines. Evidently, telling a child 'NO' can be a bad thing as well.

Really? NO??? Yeah, that'll prepare them for life as an adult! See how well that works?

I'm not claiming to know all the secrets to parenting. I can't say that anything I've done with my children will work for yours. But I have lived long enough to notice that each new generation of parents seems to live to prove how wrong the past generations were.

Now, I'm not saying that we haven't learned a lot of useful information throughout the years. I had an aunt yell at me for painting the nursery when I was pregnant with my 9YO. She wasn't yelling at me because of the paint fumes, though. She was yelling at me because raising my hands over my head could wrap the umbilical cord around the baby's neck.

*shakes head*

Part of me is wondering if maybe she's gotten some of her advice from Dr. Ozzy too.

My children wear seatbelts and none of them were given honey as infants. There are so many things we are learning that are based on science and I'm willing to do whatever I can to keep my children safe. But my children are told 'NO' almost every single day of their lives. They were allowed to cry as infants as long as all of their needs had been met and they continued to cry. Sometimes, babies cry. They learned to calm themselves down and get themselves to sleep in their own beds as infants. They do chores. They are allowed to feel bad if they put themselves in a situations that makes them feel bad. It's not my job to make them feel better about themselves. Do you remember when people first started using time-outs on their kids and the old school parents criticized them for not really using 'discipline?' Well, that method was referred to in this latest issue of Parenting Magazine as 'exiling your kid.' Now time-outs are too harsh? These magazines just go too far. They make parents question themselves even more than that already do.

And children can smell weakness.

After reading a few of those articles, I'm not convinced that all of those 'experts' have even met a child, much less had experience in dealing with one. Please don't think I am telling anyone else how to raise their children. This whole parenting gig is 'learn-as-you-go' and I am in no way fully educated. None of us are.

Stay calm. Take a breath. Keep your mind open to facts and new information. Follow your heart. You know your kid better than anyone else.

And if you should happen to buy a magazine to help you be a better parent, maybe you could just roll it up and swat your toddler on the bottom with it. It's been proven more effective for the most part.

You certainly wouldn't be the first.