Absolute Mommy

Twelve four-five-six Twenty Twenty

2020-12-07T20:28:00.000-08:00

Let's recap the weekend.

Starting on Friday:

Esperanza landed on Mac's school desk, in a jar so she could be easily moved. Smart move on her part. Mac as excited that she could show Esperanza to her school friends on zoom. However, she was very concerned that Esperanza couldn't spell. I told her I don't think there is a strong emphasis on spelling at the North Pole.

I picked up with "Who-ville" Tree at Sprouts on Friday. I got one last year, and we let it die, because that's what happens to most plants in this house. Friday's advent activity was to watch Christmas movies with lost of snacks and blankets. We chose Home Alone 2 and hot chocolate. I even followed the recipe on the back of the cocoa box because I was out of instant. It wasn't all that hard, and I impressed my thirteen year old and myself. I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised at how good Home Alone 2 was, sequels usually don't hold up.

Saturday Recap:

Esperanza got a hold of The Who-ville Tree. Doesn't she know how precious toilet paper is during this pandemic. The kids thought this was hilarious, and that it was very possible that Esperanza brought us a roll from the North Pole. The cute countdown is a Target Dollar Spot find that my friend Heidi picked up for me. It was only five bucks!

Our advent activity was to make paper snowflakes, the girls did while I ran errands. They were just as messy as I remember and no one was really happy with how they turned out. I think my girls are perfectionists like their mother, so if they weren't perfect they went in the trash.

Sunday recap:

Esperanza challenged the girls to a drawing contest. They took it very serious, and they did a fantastic job. I wish I could draw as well as they do. Also, with Esperanza sitting in a bowl, we were able to move her around as we wished. That came in handy as the girls helped me wrap Christmas gifts. My wrapping has never been this ahead of schedule. Now, before I continue let me say, I had to let go. I had to let go of the "perfectly" wrapped gift, and let them help. Honestly, the paper gets torn to hell anyway. This is the first year I just said yes, sure, wrap that gift with more paper than is needed. It's 2020, if I've learned anything this crazy year, it's to let people help me when I need it.

Sunday's advent activity was to have breakfast for dinner so we had eggs and hash browns. It was simple and easy and everyone was happy.

I also did six loads of laundry on Sunday, and folded and put them away. Well I had help putting them away, but still. I'm tired.

Happy Monday,

Megan

Twelve Three Twenty Twenty

2020-12-03T20:07:00.000-08:00

Esperanza made her way to my bookcase, and brought a friend. This friend, a plush mini elf was hanging on a tree on the opposite side of the house. Well played Esperanza. This picture also shows off some of my favorite books and my Funko Pop figure of Elf on the Shelf. There was a time when I bought everything Elf on the Shelf related. I used to blog four to five times a week then too.

Today's "service" advent was, "Do one of your sister's chores". Groans all around, but they made it work. Their rooms are clean, and their school stations organized. I can't complain.

Yesterday, our advent activity was to read books to each other. Mac read Jolly Postman, Caitlin read Crayons, and I read Santa Mouse. Did we use funny voices and create our own endings? Of course we did. Was it time well spent with zero screens? Yes! I love so many things about Christmas, but I think Christmas books brings real magic. As a kid I always loved reading about other traditions and foods. I can remember reading Santa Mouse for the first time and insisting that we leave out cheese with the cookies on Christmas Eve. I have a shelf full of Christmas books, for kids and grown ups, and love returning to old favorites every year.

Today was my last zoom for the screenwriting class I took this semester, and I am a little heartbroken. I've been wanting to take a screenwriting class for years, but I could never find one I could really afford or attend. Many of them happen in other parts of the world. Lucky for me, I discovered one at my local my community college, and I knew I would regret it if I didn't sign up. My professor was fantastic, the guest speakers were amazing (Hello, Bruce Gilbert who produced 9 to 5!), and I wrote act one of a full length feature. To be honest, Act 1 is only about 25 pages, but even after years of creative writing it was still challenging to write. I can say that the payoff was amazing. When my class workshopped and did a cold reading of the script, they laughed at all the right places. It was bliss.

Twenty Twenty has been weird and isolating and sad at times, but taking this class really helped me focus on other things. I actually had a place to be and deadlines to meet. I'm sad that I won't see those people on a regular basis, but I did sign up for the playwriting class for the spring. Flexing my writing muscles in ways I haven't before is one of my favorite things. For now, I'm sitting with the success of writing an Act 1, getting it workshopped, revising it, and turning it in. It may never go farther than the "submit assignment" box to my professor, but I did it.

XO,

Megs

Twelve Two Twenty Twenty

2020-12-02T16:54:00.001-08:00

Esperanza landed by our"sanitizing" station. Our stockings also happen to hang here as well. Just a friendly reminder to wash your hands and sanitize. I have yet to figure out how to make her a mask, so maybe that's something I can look into. Today's advent is to pick a Christmas book and read it out loud. Mac picked Jolly Postman Christmas, Caitlin picked The Day the Crayons Quit Christmas, and I picked Santa Mouse, because I've loved that book since I was a kid.

Yesterday, our advent activity was to send 3 cards to friends we missed. I ended up sending six cards. Is there anything better than getting a card or a letter in the mail? I've always loved getting mail, especially when it's not your birthday or a holiday. Getting a card or letter is a reminder that someone thought of you, in such a way that take pen to paper and sign their name. I love that.

It's also my Grandma GG's 87th birthday. We won't get to celebrate because of Covid, but we are dropping her gift off after dinner. Covid makes everything weird, but after nine months it kinda feels the same.

I hope you all are in good spirits and good health. I'm off to do some online shopping. Which roughly translates to me buying stuff for myself and hiding it.

Merry everything,

Megs

Twelve - One - Twenty Twenty

2020-12-01T11:07:00.003-08:00

What a strange and wild ride twenty twenty has been. Didn't we have such high hopes for a new year and decade. I did. Then I didn't. Twenty twenty has been so much about survival. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. I've done so much writing and reflecting, most of which I have kept to myself. With the end of the year just one month away, I thought I'd try something different. For many of us, we have been home. Work from home, school from home, life at home. It hasn't been a terrible experience for my family. I'll admit, leading up to March 2020 we were already looking forward to lazy days of summer because of our already over extended schedules. When the world (or maybe it was just California) shut down, I for one welcomed it. Of course I didn't realize that two weeks would turn into, what is it now, nine months?

Here we are, with thirty days left. This story that I'm going to share with you is going to happen in real time. Maybe not every day, but I'm hoping to stop here in this space and let you know how we are trying to recapture some much needed magic.

A few weeks ago, Mackenzie, age 10, started asking about our Elf, Esperanza. We have two elves, if you remember Buddy, and for the last few years, both elves have been living a life of luxury since we broke the cardinal rule and touched them. When my girls were little, they viewed the elves as part of our family and Christmas decor. When they started school they soon realized that our elves were the minority. Imagine their surprise when their friends told them that Elves were NOT TO BE TOUCHED!

Back to Mackenzie and Esperanza.

Esperanza was gifted to us from Grandma Linda. Grandma bought the last available girl Elf and her book happened to be in Spanish. Hence the name, Esperanza, which mean Hope. Esperanza was never magical and didn't bring gifts or do fun things. I would tell the girls that the elves were here to take a vacation from Santa's workshop and it was up to us to show them love and let them relax. And it worked, until this year.

Last week Mackenzie wrote a very impassioned letter to Santa, pleading for Esperanza's magic to return. In the letter she let Santa know that she understood that Buddy was too old for such fun, but Esperanza needed her magic back. My heart broke for a number of reasons but two really stood out.

One, this kid, despite the TikToks and James Charles videos, still believes in the magic of Christmas. Two, if there was ever a time for Christmas Magic, this is the year. We could all use some magic as we close this tumultuous and distanced year. I got to work. I made a calendar, and even followed the fun up with an activity advent of things that weren't too strenuous, but involved the entire family. We have been cooped up in this house for months, but honestly most of the time we are on devices, we all in the same room and all on phones or iPads.

Yesterday, Mac sprinkled cinnamon on Esperanza and put her on a high shelf so the cats wouldn't interfere with her return. We did a little research and cinnamon is the vitamin C of the Magic Elf world. We went to bed early and guess what?

We woke up to Esperanza, delivered special to this curtain rod, ready to fill this house with magic. Also today's activity is to choose three friends we miss and send them Christmas cards. After they sign out of virtual school we will get to work. Would you believe I have stamps and everything?

Lol,

Megs

Hello Thirteen

2020-06-25T22:04:00.001-07:00

My oldest daughter turns 13 tomorrow.

How that happened I cannot say, one day she was a toddler and then I was dropping her off at middle school last August. In the blink of an eye is an understatement.

I've been thinking about this day thirteen years ago when I was forty pounds heavier with swollen ankles and an endless supply of rocky road ice cream. Thirteen years ago it was a Monday night, and I was ten days past my due date. It was torturous as I had already had one induction cancelled, and my sweet doctor looked at me with sympathetic eyes that Monday morning and said, "Everything looks great. Baby is just comfortable and not ready to leave the nest". Sure it was good news to know we weren't in distress, but also could I please have my baby because she was supposed to be born almost ten days ago? I went home from that appointment with strict orders from my doctor to wake up at six the next morning, head to the ER and tell them my "water broke", because they would have to check, and then when they called my doctor, he said he would come over and break my water. Typing it makes it sound like something out of a slapstick comedy, but the local hospital had been hit with a baby boom and I wasn't emergent.

John and I went home. I made my nest on the couch, complaining of lower abdominal pain, that the doctor had earlier assured me was "pressure from the baby". I lounged on the couch eating ice cream and watching tv and the clock. Six a.m. couldn't get here fast enough.

Then it was six the next morning and I was silently crying because holy shit I was about to become a mother. At some point on this day, this baby was going to be outside of my body, and I would be in charge of another life. I felt like there should have been a test for that.

Long story short, that pressure in my abdominal area, those were labor pains and even though my water had yet to break, my contractions were eight minutes apart. I honestly had no idea. Approximately ten hours later, Caitlin made her debut.

I'd like to say it was mushy and Instagram worthy, but to be honest it was an out of body experience. I felt like I was watching someone else be simultaneously over joyed and scared out of their damn mind. I was a mother, but also I wanted my mother, because who was going to raise this baby? Oh yeah, me.

If you have been a guest here for any amount of time in the past, you know that motherhood was no easy task for me. I worked and fought really hard to become a solid mother. Not the best and not the worst, but some balance in the middle that prays my daughters future heath care plans include coverage for therapy. Motherhood for me didn't feel natural, and it took me a long time to figure out what motherhood looked like for me. Thank God Facebook was in its infancy and Instagram had yet to be birthed, because I was already comparing myself to other mothers in real life. Who knows if I could have survived the mommy wars over social media.

Thirteen years later, I am an adolescent mother.

I'm also going through an awkward and gawky phase. I finally figured out how to mother small children, and now I'm trying to figure out how to navigate teenagers. Adolescence is a transitional phase where a person grows and develops from a child to an adult. I didn't know that parents will do this too. I'm now trying to find my space in between TikTok videos and Instagram filters. I'm now told which photos I can posts and which I cannot. I'm required to be the expert on acne and body odor, but I'm not allowed to make recommendations on such things. Shorts are getting shorter, bathing suits have extra lining, and holy crap we have a stash of "woman supplies". I'm also transitioning and learning how to discipline mini adults who think they know more than me. I've turned into both my mother and my father as I've caught myself saying, "I've been alive 42 years, don't you think I know more about this than you". Not my finest moments, but seriously. I've been alive 42 years, I had the worst acne that required prescription drugs, I know what to put on your face and it's not that stuff you saw on TikTok!

I've always known the dynamics of motherhood. In the beginning it seemed like an endless loop. Early motherhood was like a scene from Groundhog's Day, where you just do the same feeding, diapering, and sleeping for days on end. Then one day you wake up and they don't like that binky or bottle. One day they wake up and they can crawl or walk or feed themselves. They grow and so do you, but nothing ever really prepares you for the day they don't need to cling to your body like a wet t-shirt. Nothing prepares you for the day they don't want to hold your hand in Target. The day they don't want to change in front of you. The day they absolutely do not want you to dance to that song on Spotify because how embarrassing.

Recently the transition from having a child to having a teenager looks like stolen moments. For Caitlin and I its laughing at memes before bed. Memes that maybe she shouldn't laugh at, but the kid has got a wicked sense of humor. It looks like secret trips to Starbucks where sometimes she treats me to a drink because I'm driving. Mom I'll buy your Starbucks if you drive. Our transition into adolescence looks like the two of us realizing that neither one of us is perfect and maybe neither one of us has all the answers. It looks like the two of us realizing that none of that means we don't love each other so fiercely that it hurts sometimes. Now that we are thirteen we can say those things to each other, planting better roots as we grow.

Thirteen is awfully close to fifteen which is awfully close to other teens that I cannot discuss because I'm not emotionally prepared in any way at this time. What I wouldn't give to be up at 4 am with that tiny, sliver, of a human. That little slice of heaven who kept me up until sunrise, who never wanted to sleep, who confused me and made me second guess every single move I made. I'd do it all over again and not change a thing. I sometimes wish I wouldn't have rolled my eyes when people said that it happens so fast. I didn't understand in those wee morning hours that once the days were gone, they were gone. I used to think that it would be so much easier when she was just a little bigger. Big enough for solids. Big enough to walk and talk. Big enough to feed herself. Big enough to... grow up before my eyes. Just one more thing that I could not control as a mother. Once I gave up trying to control every aspect of motherhood I was finally able to enjoy it. Thank God for that.

Let me tell you how much control I don't have. We ate dinner at 8:45 tonight after a late swim at my moms. The girls are now watching make up tutorials on YouTube and I'm writing this. We will most likely stay up late and I'll set my alarm to go to Starbucks in my pajamas to get the birthday girl her favorite. Her gifts are not wrapped, the house isn't decorated let alone clean, and I still have to make her cake. This is my evolution you guys, this is how I learned to enjoy motherhood.

Twelve years ago on the eve of Caitlin's first birthday I was prepping food and making sure I had enough balloons. I had her clothes all laid out, the cutest dress, which she took off twenty minutes into the party to run around in the sprinkler in her diaper. Best laid plans let me tell you. Tomorrow will be filled with as much birthday as you can expect in a pandemic. Curbside order at Chik-Fil-A; homemade cake, a parade of cars in our front yard.

It will be as exactly as motherhood intended.

Unorganized. Messy. Imperfectly full of love.

I just wish I could tell that laboring mom on the couch thirteen years ago.

She kind of needed to know.

Intentional Living: February is the new January

2020-01-30T14:51:00.001-08:00

I'm writing this on what feels like the 93rd day of January. It's actually the 30th, but it really does feel like the 93rd. I'm not the only one who feels this way according to all the memes I've seen on social media. It only took me the first week of January to realize that there was no way I was going to motivate or tackle any "resolutions" in January. The month was already off to a less than stellar start, but it also felt like it had been January for a month. It was probably the 8th.

Ringing in the new year often mean ringing in bigger expectations, loftier goals, and big life changes. The "last 90 days" and the "first 90 days" are real things that trend on Instagram and Twitter. Endless lists gift us with the knowledge on how to be better, live better, and feel better. All in, what feels like, the longest month of the year.

I don't know about other moms, but my kids didn't even go back to school until the second week of the month. We all know that those weeks of winter break don't count. There is no meal schedule or bedtime schedule. Sleeping in is supreme. Meal planning does not exist. Why in the world would anyone start Whole 30 or Dry January when the kids are still home and chaos reigns?

The week my kids went back to school was a blur of school and dance and some things I volunteered for when January was over a month away. Up was down, left was right and I'm pretty sure we ate chicken nuggets for dinner more than once. As I scrolled my life away before I fell asleep, I felt like a failure because I still had not started or given a thought to resolutions or goals. I was living "new year, same me", and honestly it didn't fee great. I was procrastinating, and I wasn't proud.

Then I realized something, a bit of self actualization. I need to ease into change. Sure, I'm an over-reactor, an overachiever, I'm the mom who yells; but when it comes to life changes, I'm a coward. I do not like change. I resist, like a toddler, feet stomping and flailing on the floor, or something close to it. This realization mid-month helped me realize that I would have to slowly ease into the new year. I realized I could take the month of January to plan, feel out my bad habits I wanted to change, decide on what I wanted to take on as far as goals go. My goals rarely change, but the way I face them has to if I'm ever going to be successful. Which led me to the next realization...

February is the shortest month of the year, and therefore the best month for resolutions.

I've decided that February is the new January.

Hear me out.

February is only 28 days, usually, this year it's 29, but isn't that better than 31? A shorter month makes it that much easier to meet your goals. Whole 30 becomes Whole 29 this year. Taking a few days off your monthly gym schedule sounds nice, and makes it that much easier to meet your goal. Twenty eight seems like such a nice number, and honestly who is going to know if you use the 29th as a day to celebrate all the good and change you've made in your life this month. Leap year has never sounded so good.

February is obviously the best month to change your life.

I was talking to my friend yesterday and told her as much. She told me she was unmotivated and I said of course you are, it's January. All the shine and glitter of New Years Eve was swept up with New Years day, and after that there is nothing shiny about January. I'm sorry. My husband's birthday is in January and even he doesn't want to celebrate it. Well that has more to do with getting older than it being January, but details matter little here. The point is, January is only fresh for about a week, and then everyone wants it to be over.

If I'm honest, I love the new year, it's freshness, the motivating quotes I pin or post on social media. I love the promise of the new and unknown. I love the anticipation of what's to come. Still, somewhere along the way, I find myself unmotivated and sluggish. I don't think I'm alone in this.

Years ago I gave up making resolutions. They just made me feel bad. A resolution means a firm decision, and those make me anxious. Not meeting a resolution feels like failing. Goals feel more my speed. Goal means "the object of ambition", or a "desired result". Goals can happen and evolve all year. Goals feel like they can change. I found this image on Pinterest and it made total and complete sense to me. They seem attainable and allow for growth.

Quote Hub on Pinterest

Break a Bad Habit:

My bad habit is a constant struggle for me. I don't wash my make up off before bed. I already know what you're thinking. Every glam/fashion/women's magazine will tell you that not washing your make up off before bed will age your skin. That is why every year it's a goal of mine, and more so this year now that I'm over 40. You guys, I'm over 40!

Learn a New Skill:

This is to be determined. Yoga sounds great. Learning to make macrons sounds even better. If I'm honest it may be as simple as creating a budget and sticking to it. Did you hear that thump? That was my husband passing out in the background.

Do a Good Deed:

Random acts of kindness are my jam. Good deeds come in all shapes and sizes. I'm looking forward to this one, and am open to suggestions.

Visit a New Place:

I'm not sure how this one is going to happen. Traveling that isn't centered around school or dance is rarely on my agenda. Hopefully on one of those trips we will be able to make it to a place unknown that I've never happened upon before.

Read a Difficult Book:

I actually just read one. A book that is very well loved, but wasn't really loved by me. That seems like cheating, so I'm hoping to read another Jane Austen or Emily Bronte. I find that these are harder for me to read because of the language. Years ago, on this very blog one of my goals for the year was to read Pride and Prejudice. I did it and I wasn't only proud of myself, I was disappointed that it took me so long. I haven't decided on a book yet. I'll keep you posted.

Write and Send a Letter:

If you follow me on Instagram you may realize that I posted this goals graphic on January 1st. This goal stuck with me the most. I've always loved writing and sending letters or cards. With the hours (and I'll be honest it is hours, and I'm working on that too) I spend on social media, sending a letter made me notice how out of touch I've been with some people in my life. I love getting my birthday wishes on Facebook as much as the next girl, but getting a card in the mail makes me incredibly happy. This month I did tackle this goal, and sent three cards to three friends. They loved it and I loved it. I'm hoping to meet this particular goal every month.

Face a Fear:

I'm currently doing this now. Writing on this blog, is tackling one of my fears. I let this piece of my life lapse and get away from me. I let writing get away from me. The fear comes from not inhabiting this space for so long, and allowing myself to come back without any expectations. For years I wrote in this space for the feedback and camaraderie. I'm here now writing for me, sharing because I need it. For my mental health and stability. I've left this space blank for too long, and I'm trying to overcome my fears of basically starting this blog over from almost scratch.

Try Something New:

Yoga. Macrons. Writing Fiction to actually share. Not sure what this will be, but I'm looking forward to it.

Take a Risk:

Risk means exposing yourself to danger or loss. Whether it's physically or emotionally, I'm not sure what kind of risk I want to take. When I figure it out I'll let you know.

All these goals to say, it's okay if it's January 93rd and you haven't reached a single goal or tackled a single resolution. If your goals or challenges look different than your friends on social media, that's okay too. Now you have the secret, the key to a successful 2020, maybe even the key to life.

Start on February 1st.

February is the new January. Your welcome.

Intentional Living: Part One Year End

2020-01-22T14:38:00.000-08:00

I ended 2019 in an actual fog of gratitude and grief. The year itself hadn't been all bad, and was poised to end on a high. I was happy and content. I had survived the transition into middle school with my tween. I had just about made it through the holidays. I was ready to have that Holly Jolly Christmas I hear about on the radio.

Two days before Christmas my beloved grandmother had a massive stroke. Catastrophic is what her doctor called it, and within hours my family and extended family was navigating a huge loss. I did my best to keep it together for my children, who honestly were more concerned with Santa finding us if we traveled on Christmas Eve. It wasn't easy and I found myself constantly repeating "grandmas dying" in my head, as if I wasn't completely drowning in that thought already.

Those days between Christmas and New Year's, the days that most of us hibernate, were spent reflecting on my year. I spent hours on social media reading articles to jump start the year. Not because I'm of the "new year, new me" mindset, but somewhere I was hoping to find some motivation. What did I want to do with my brand new year? Who did I want to become? Everything I read didn't feel right, didn't exactly fit well. Until I stumbled upon this article about ending the year intentionally.

It's easy to be blinded on all the folks on social media with their "New Year New Me" diets and work out regimens. The multiple posts about being your best self, building your best self, finally taking chances. I wasn't ready to "bet on me" or "do the things that scare me". I really needed to reflect and find some clarity while I was so overwhelmed with grief. It helped me examine the last year with new eyes and find some good when I was feeling so bad.

10 Questions to end 2019 Intentionally (These questions are totally paraphrased. Please visit the article for the real deal.)

What makes this year unforgettable?

Obviously the standout was my grandmother dying at the close of 2019. Just writing it in my notebook made it so real, but also opened me up. I was able to think about other things that made the past year unforgettable. I stayed married. You can laugh all you want but every year I stay married is a victory in my book. The Husband and I have had some hard years in the last part of the decade. Closing this year and decade married was a success in my view. My girls grew and thrived. They danced more, and enjoyed themselves so much. Caitlin completed elementary school and went on to middle school. There were so many changes and then when I think about it not that many. Our trip to Disneyland was pretty amazing too, so I'll add that.

What did I enjoy doing this year?

Going gray. Honestly letting my hair grow in it's new natural color was liberating. I've been trying to cover my gray hair consistently since I was in my 20s. I was at the point that I needed to touch up my roots every three to four weeks, I just couldn't do it anymore. I gave myself six weeks to let it grow and decide if it was the right thing for me. I spent countless hours on Instagram looking at the SilverSisters hashtag. I'll admit, it was rough at first, people asked a lot of questions, it seemed shocking for someone my age (41 by the way) to not cover their roots. Finding the right mix of shampoos and conditioners helped. After years of using boxed dyes, my hair was so damaged, it was starting to fall out. The best part of the entire thing? I wasn't hiding anymore. I was constantly preoccupied with covering my roots. Every big event, every photo taken, I worried that my roots were showing. So I gave up, and set myself free. It has been the best thing I've done for myself in years. The added perk? I get compliments on it all the time. To the point that I've been asked for my colorist's number twice!

Who/What am I grateful for?

My health. My family. My friends. I am surrounded by amazing people. I'm so grateful for them.

Biggest Win this year?

I made it. Emotionally. Financially. It seems simple, but these are two of my biggest stressors.

What did I read/watch/listen?

Read: Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid. Summer of '69 by Elin Hilderbrand. One Day in December by Josie Silver. All excellent. Daisy Jones is written in a way that as a writer was inspiring. Summer of '69 was such a fun read and had some historical elements that I loved. Plus I'll read whatever Elin Hilderbrand writes, so... I read one day in December last January. It was the first book I read last year. It was everything you love about Holiday Rom-Coms. If you love Nancy Myers, you will love this book.

Watch: The Handmaids Tale, which, as always, was thought provoking, infuriating, and completely engaging at the same time. Elisabeth Moss is everything. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is so well written and incredibly funny that I'm convinced that Amy Sherman Palladino is too good for us. Plus the ensemble cast cannot be beat! Side note: I binged watched the West Wing last year. I think I was the last person on Earth my age who had never seen it. I'm not going to lie, I loved it with my whole heart. I cried almost every episode, and it made me yearn for 90s politics, and I never thought I'd say or type that!

Listen: Lizzo and Bille. There were no others.

What impact did these read/watch/listen selections have on you?

What is fantastic about reading, watching, and listening, is that they essentially doing the same thing, telling a story. The books I read last year inspired me to write, but also inspired me to really listen and engage in the stories being told. The shows I watched were not just entertaining but thought provoking. The Handmaids Tale remains the scariest thing on television! Lizzo showered me and my daughters in girl power. I am constantly surrounding myself with pop culture, because it's always an inspiration.

What did I worry about the most? How did it turn out?

Money. I'm constantly worried about money. Which is funny because my husband's long running household chore is being in charge of the bills. Still, every swipe, every withdraw for "dance" incidentals, makes me sweat. It always turns out fine, but it will always give me anxiety.

Biggest Regret?

Before December 23rd, my answer would have been completely different. I would have said not submitting any of my writing. I would have said not writing and blogging more. But now, as I start 2020 it's not spending enough time with my grandma. I regret not calling her more. I regret never getting her life story down on paper. There are many regrets at this time.

What is the 1 thing I changed about myself?

As I said before, my hair. It changed me emotionally as well as physically. It helped me embrace aging. The old commercial about "growing old gracefully"? Well they didn't mention that you'd have to be graceful emotionally as well. That's been harder than the physical part.

What surprised me the most?

That 2019 closed A DECADE. Ten years. I didn't even realize it until all those "Last 90 days" posts on social media. So many incredible, heartbreaking, mind numbing, brave, ugly, happy, sad things happened in the last 10 years. I changed as a person multiple times. I became a mom of two in the last decade. I went back to work, quit, and then went back again. I became a blogger and a writer. I grew into motherhood. I grew into my marriage. I stumbled and got back up again. So much life was lived in what did not seem like ten years.

If I could go back to January 1st, 2019 what would I suggest to myself?

Call Grandma Now. Write every day, even when it hurts. Exercise in any way, walking is still moving. Take more pictures, your Instagram is looking sad girl! Be easy on yourself, it has never been about perfection. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE.

After years of neglecting this space, I'm thankful if you found your way back and had a look around. I'm hoping to visit this space more often in the coming year.

The Open and the Close (Seventh grade)

2019-08-19T14:02:00.000-07:00

"I open at the close" - JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

The day of Caitlin's sixth grade promotion, all I could think about was the line, "I open at the close". JK Rowling is the master of feelings and emotions, so it seemed appropriate that it became my mantra for the day and the summer that followed. With every ending is a new beginning, so standing at the close, meant that soon enough there would be an open. I had to keep telling myself this, otherwise my emotions overwhelmed me. I did not adequately anticipate the feelings of that day or the days leading up to the end of her sixth grade year. In the back of my mind, seventh grade, "JR HIGH", was a whole year away. In fact, a year ago this week, the idea of having a child in seventh grade was a funny joke that I laughed off because how ridiculous the notion? Until, that unusually overcast day in June, Sixth Grade Promotion Day, I found myself at the close. For most, and many parents I talked to, the end of sixth grade is just that, simply the end of another school year. No promotion or graduation needed, but for me the end seemed monumental. It still seems monumental today, being I dropped her off at her new school this morning. A school that seems impossibly big for my baby girl. My baby who is laughably almost taller than I am.

The memories that flowed at the end of sixth grade brought along a deluge of other memories. That surprised me. Motherhood is incredible in that way. It allows for self reflection at the most inopportune times. When you have to be happy and celebratory, and all you want to do is reflect and curl into a ball and cry. Here I was at the 'close', thinking about all of the wonderful and amazing things my daughter accomplished this year, while simultaneously thinking about how incredibly insane it felt that she actually did those things. Caitlin is my daughter that didn't sleep or latch. She cried many days and nights, while I spent most of those same days and nights in my rocking chair, almost catatonic. Wondering if she would ever stop, sleep, or even eat. She eventually stopped and ate, but has only taken five naps in her lifetime, maybe. She cried every day of preschool and every day of first grade. (Kindergarten was obviously a gap year for her.) She refused to participate in choir performances her first and third grade years. Caitlin was the child that wouldn't let me leave her at a birthday party, a dance class, or even with family members at times. Her separation anxiety was such that I rarely went anywhere the first two years of her life, and when I did, I was so stressed that I didn't even enjoy myself. Caitlin has always been the child that challenges me in every possible way and pushes every damn button possible. Why would I share any of this out loud? Because...

That same child full of fear and anxiety was the first student up on the zip line at sixth grade camp this year. I watched her climb the pole and across the tiny high wire to the platform, then off she went into the great unknown. Well not really the unknown, but I have a great video to prove it where you can hear me audibly sigh at the end of the video, because she did it and also she was still alive! I was also proud and amazed that she was so brave. So confident and so sure of herself. It was breathtaking. The same child that refused to sing in the school choir for two years, tried out for a solo for the spring concert and was picked for a duet. She sang her heart out that night, and will be in the concert choir at her new Jr High. The same girl who cried at drop off all those mornings was the same girl who ran for leadership secretary. She volunteered in multiple lower grade classrooms working with kids on reading and math. She performed with her schools pep and cheer teams. She also accepted a class assignment with the Autism class at her school to help with their exercise program, requiring a twice monthly bus ride off site. That same baby who didn't sleep. The same child who cried every day. The same child who wouldn't let me leave the house without her ever... did all of these things. Twelve years ago, sitting in my rocking chair trying to soothe her never ending cries, I would have never dreamed of such things. I don't think I could have dreamed such things, because everything seemed so hard and far away in those days. I had no idea that we would come so far in so little time.

I've been standing at the close for the entire summer. Reflecting on the past twelve years. Twelve years of motherhood and growth, life lessons and milestones. How is it possible that as the milestones become few and farther between, they carry so much more weight. These days the milestones are solid. My daughter finished sixth grade. The elementary school where I've dropped her off for over six years is no longer her school. Milestones that are just as important as cutting a tooth or taking first steps, but today's milestones feel concrete. Permanent and strategic for optimum emotion.

Today we are at the open, my daughter and I, whether she realizes it or not. Seventh grade is the beginning. A new school. Seven classes with seven teachers I may never meet. Seven different homework assignments at any time. Today is the open, new activities, new electives, new friends to be made, new challenges to be met in the years to come. At the open, my oldest daughter looks every bit the part of the teenager. At the open, the drop off goodbyes are shorter, no more lingering for a second kiss goodbye. At the open, she sends me text messages of funny tik tok videos and selfies. Text messages that allow us to communicate in a way that pushes zero buttons. Today, at the open, she called me to let me know her science teacher is cool, she is dropping her zero period class, and she sounds absolutely fine at that impossibly big school.

At the open, I'm the mom of a seventh grader wondering how I got here on minimum sleep and maximum emotion. It just doesn't seem possible.

Staying True

2018-01-13T01:00:00.000-08:00

How do you tell a story that isn’t yours?

You don’t.

It’s not a trick question, it’s a real and honest one.

In 2011, when I started this blog, the only requirement I had for myself was to be honest. To tell the truth, even if it was hard and ugly. At the time, and over the years, I’ve done that. Sharing stories about my life as a mother and a friend; sometimes as a wife and a daughter. I took great strides to be relatable. To make my readers feel included and invited. I didn’t want anyone to feel alone. My blog was a way for me to shout, Here I am, I’m doing this too.

And for most of these years, I’ve been here. Doing this too.

Until recently.

For about a year and a half, I’ve had to censor myself. I’ve had feelings to share, but to do so would hurt other people in my life. It would shed light on things that are ugly and, while relatable, hurtful. I thought that ignoring these feelings wouldn’t impact me creatively at all. I thought, naively, I would just write about something else.

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I felt that anything I wrote never sounded as authentic as me being ugly and raw with my words. I’ve written things in this last year and a half. Ugly things. Hurtful things. But they are on paper or stuck in my email somewhere. Those scraps and snippets sound authentic to my ears. Still, I have yet to publish those.

I can’t publish those.

Well. I can. Though at this time it would be costly and hurtful.

Instead I’ve paused. Spending more time in fictional worlds. Reading and writing. Watching Netflix, because right now fictional worlds are easier to live in.

In avoiding my authentic voice of non fiction, I have cultivated a voice of fiction. I had not visited any of those stories in months, but today, I read pieces that I had done. Surprised to see that they are coherent and thoughtful. A small world I could live in. Albeit a fake one.

I’m fine. I promise. Honestly sometimes the emotional weight of things is just that. Weight. To be completely honest, not all the weight belongs to me. Its shared. But this space here is not shared, so I hit pause.

I’m hoping, little by little I can share more of my authentic self. Once you stop writing it’s like anything else. It’s hard to start again. By writing this I feel it’s a start. A first step.

To tell a story that is half way mine.

DIYMFA writing prompt. Check it out.

Becoming a Writer

2018-01-12T10:42:00.000-08:00

Since I haven't been able to get my writing groove back, I've decided to participate in the DIY MFA Book Club. You can find more info out here. There are writing prompts that push you to think, and more importantly, write. Cheers to a new year, and cheers to new content in this space.

I don’t remember becoming a writer. For as long as I can remember, I've always been writing a story in my head. When I was a kid, I would come up with my own movie endings and music videos. My crayon drawings always had elaborate back stories. Somehow I wanted a larger life than the one I was living. I guess that’s how you start writing fiction.

It seems that I've always kept a journal. Writing short stories in middle school and poems in high school. In high school I worked on the school paper and enjoyed every minute. In college I was the only student in the required upper division writing class that was excited to be there. I wrote seven papers that semester, to me it was heaven.

After college I grew up. Worked in retailing because that was my degree said I was to so, and soon became a wife and then a mother.

That’s where my writing life took a turn.

Modern motherhood can be a lonely place if you’re not perfect. That was my truth ten years ago when I became a mother. The requirements were many, breast feeding, sleeping through the night at 8 weeks, no nipple confusion, no co sleeping, Ferberizing. You had to follow ridiculous rules to prove your worth. Not only was I lonely but I felt like a failure. I talked endlessly with my best friend, who thankfully didn’t co sign for the modern rules of motherhood. Still, we couldn’t be the only moms in the world struggling and adjusting to this life. There had to be more moms out there in the world co sleeping and bottle feeding.

There were. I realized by joining Facebook. Friends I had in high school, college roommates, and friends of friends. Sharing online was thrilling and affirming. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t a failure. I didn’t have to be perfect, I could just be me. As soon as I realized that, I found my words and started a blog.

My blog, this one you are reading, began as a place to tell funny/semi serious stories about motherhood. To be honest about living the stay at home mom dream. To deal with everyday disasters that were small but sometimes deflating. The more I wrote the better I felt. I was finally a writer.

I had finally found my voice. Finally I had something to say.

So I said it. I’m still saying it, about motherhood and so much more. I’ve taken brakes. Fallen off the wagon. Suffered writers block. But like any good and great love, I always come back for more.

How did I become I writer?

I started writing.

Busy {a four letter word}

2017-07-26T22:38:00.000-07:00

Every time I'm asked, "How are you today?", my default answer is, "Busy".

I'm busy. My kids are busy. My husband is busy. Everyone in this household is busy.

And it's summer. Summer of all the times of the year! I have vague memories of me planning to have a no bullshit, laid back summer. We just had to make it to the end of dance season which was quite literally June 30th. Make it to June 30th and we'd have the rest of the summer to relax.The plan was to take a few dance classes, lounge by the pool, casually drop in at Starbucks, browse the aisles of Target. Summer was going to save us all and allow us to relax and be lazy...

But June 30th came and went and here we are almost July 30th and we are still busy.

Busy has become a four letter word.

Back when I first started blogging and Pinning (what did I actually do before Pinterest? Oh yeah, laundry), I remember seeing this quote, "Stop the Glorification of Busy". I googled it a few weeks ago, and the origin of it is a little spotty, but this article seems to have quoted it first. Why are people everywhere glorifying the fact that they are busy. It feels like the biggest one-ups-manship contest on Earth. Tell someone what you are doing, they will tell you they are doing the same, but like three more things. As if that makes us super human. Are we any happier cramming every second of the day with an activity? Does it make a difference if we keep ourselves and our families so busy? Do we look better as mothers or parents if our kids are in sixteen activities over the summer? I hope not, because we have skipped so much dance this year to swim or go to the movies, I'm worried about being voted off the "island". It's like we are trained to show off just how busy we are. Look at my Instagram feed and I will tell you everything I did on any given day all before nine in the morning, in addition to a fantastic selfie. Does that make me a champion? Only when other people who follow my account tell me what a good job I'm doing. And sometimes that feels kind of gross. Look at me, I'm so awesome because I've already made three dozen cookies, folded two loads of laundry, and got my kids to school on time... Eww. I hate that person. I hate a humble brag, especially when that humble brag is me. Gross, and yet, I'll probably do it tomorrow. I'm so busy damn it, look at me!

One Wednesday near the of the school year I went and sat for my usual three hours at dance. Our longest dance day of the week. With just a few weeks to go before the end of the year, I had my PTC notebook, my Girl Scout notebook, and my planner. I was making list. Calling and emailing. Organizing the end of the year dance and practice schedule. Another mom sitting near me said, "I don't know how you do it", and I said, "I don't know either, and I don't even work".

Now looking back I have an idea of how I "do it".

The answer is simple, I "don't" do a lot of other things.

For example, in order to make sure all this years school spirit wear is ordered, my dining room table is covered in things. Crap, if you will, that needs to find homes. That may not find homes for another week. While I'm doing Girl Scout planning at my co-leader's house, the dishes in my sink continue to marinate making what can only be described as the worlds most disgusting and deadly brew of Kombucha ever. If you see me volunteering anywhere, you can bet my laundry is clean and piled like Mt. Everest on my bed, and when I go to climb into said bed, the mountain will be moved to the chair by the window that I promised would not serve as a place to pile laundry. You can bet that my bathrooms look like someone stepped on a tube of toothpaste (courtesy of the children), there are always dishes, and laundry in the dryer that gets ironed by turning it on.

So how do I do "it"?

Chaotically. Messily. By the seat of my Old Navy "mom" shorts.

I'm not proud of the busy, but I'll admit that I would have been a few years ago. When my girls were little, busy seemed like a badge of honor. Good moms, the gold star moms, were busy. They were always on the go, kids dressed and ready, every activity under the sun, and "Busy Moms" always dressed the part. Yoga pant sweat suits, jeans and tunics, and sometimes dresses. (Dresses!) I envied those moms back then, with their perfectly packed diaper bags, yogurt melts and Cheerios at the ready. I was always the hot mess mom, only able to make it to one activity (baby gym), hair rarely combed, make up never a thought. I saw those buys moms and wondered if I'd ever be there, ever able to carry it off with such ease. Little did I know there was no ease about it. Being a busy mom is fucking hard. It takes time and effort, and a lot of messes left in the wake.

I'm a smart enough now to understand that motherhood never stops. I'm just surprised that I'm busier now than I have ever been. I used to think that once my kids were older, motherhood would be so much easier. Sure they can get their own breakfast and let me sleep in on weekends, but they need a taxi driver to cheer and dance, and those four birthday parties that all fall on the same Saturday of the month. It's a never ending ride, or as all the cliche quotes will tell you... It's a marathon, not a race. Insert eye roll here. Not because I don't believe it, but because I know it all too well.

Two thousand seventeen has proven to be the busiest year on record. Maybe because I'm older and care about such things. Maybe because I'm old and tired and want to cut out any and all bullshit. At this breakneck speed, my house is always in disaster mode, not sorry. There are currently dishes in my sink and clothes my the dryer. Also, not sorry. The flip side, the school spirit wear shirts are ready to go to print, my Girls Scout troop calendar and budget are done for the next year, and we pretty much have our dance schedule locked in. I'm also working more hours this summer to bank away some funds. It appears that yes, this house hold is doing "it". Just don't ask to use my bathroom when you come over. Kind of sorry.

Today was my day off. I did my best to stretch out our lazy time. We lounged around and slept and read books and of course my oldest daughter made slime, because if your kids aren't making slime at any given time are you even a mother? I've tried really hard to make sure we have those kind of days at least once a week this summer. The Netflix binge kind of days. The, let's melt our brains on bad TV and horrible food kind of days. I want my kids to relax and have some lazy fun. Summer is only like twelve weeks, the rest of the time they are over scheduled and over stimulated. I want them to find joy in staying up late and sleeping in the next day. The joy of ice cream for dinner. The joy of doing absolutely nothing.

Because most days we are busy.

Which has become the dirtiest four letter word I know.

XOXO - Meg

March/April/May {a recap}

2017-05-30T13:49:00.000-07:00

I realize it's been years (not really but feels like it) since I've blogged. It's weird because I think about this blog daily. As if it's one of my kids, and in a way it is. Some days I feel bad about being away from this spot, but most days I'm just too tired and too busy to have more than a fleeting thought. Now as the school year ends and summer begins, I feel like I need to come back to this spot, even if it's just once a month. My goal is once a week (go ahead and laugh, you probably won't see me until August). Here is a quick recap of the last three months.

Muffins with Mom in March.
I wore my Super Hero shirt!

March
I turned 39 in march. To me it was a very "non birthday". Just noting a 365 day count down to 40. Still my husband and one of my best friends planned a surprise party for me. I was surprised considering I was just going to spend a quiet evening at home. March was a great month filled with Birthday celebrations and lots of love from friends and family. But March brought more than that. Turning 39 brought some unexpected comfort, an exhale of all the birthdays before. Turning 39 forced me to realize I have laugh lines and wrinkles in my forehead. My hair is more grey than brown (thanks to hair dye it's not that obvious). I'm at a weight that I think I'm destined to stay at for now. The comfort came in being okay with all of it. I look every bit of the middle aged mom that I am, and for the first time in my life I'm not worried about it. Sure I have bad hair days, tight waist band days, eat everything in the kitchen days. Being 39 means that I'm at an age that I can look in the mirror and know, this is me. I grew into this me. I recognize who I am. That's a good thing. I'm finally done trying to be someone else.

Mac turned SEVEN!

A very nice and very casual Easter

April
Mac turned seven in the most uneventful way. My sassiest child is also my easiest. For her class party she wanted cupcakes and it was almost humanly impossible to bake anything that week. Instead of being disappointed, she asked for her most favorite and coveted snack cake, Twinkies. I took 3 boxes of Twinkies and three boxes of Capri Sun unapologetically to her first grade class. Second kids really knock me out. With my first I would have been devastated at my lack of baked goods to present to teacher and parents alike. Let's face it, the kids always tell their parents about the treats. I would have been so embarrassed years ago if any kid would have said, "Mrs. Crutchfield brought Twinkies". The great thing about second kids, you don't care anymore. I almost had this sense of pride, "Hey look at me, I brought Twinkies with zero guilt!". You know the saying is, "everything happens for a reason", well I believe in every kid happens for a reason. We get the children we do because of the lessons they teach. Mac has been schooling me in good parenting for seven years. I am a good mom, homemade baked goods or not.

School Carnival on Cinco de Mayo!

A rare date night for me and the Hubbs.

Rock - Paper - Scissors at Starbucks before Mom has work!

May
What can you say about the last full month before school is out other than it's chaotic. I barely remember the first weekend, let alone the last (which was literally two days ago). Between dance competitions, school carnival, orthodontist appointments, allergies kicking all our asses, and oh yeah school and work, we are exhausted. Our nights keep getting later and later. Our mornings earlier. We are flying by our seats just to make it to the end. As of today, there are 9 days left. Nine. We are so ready to welcome summer. To sleep in and have lazy days, wearing our pajamas to Starbucks, only changing our clothes to jump in the pool. Late night treats of Popsicles. Not having a schedule at all. The countdown is on. Still I'm grateful for what the last month before school brings. Last minute decision to go to baseball games. Weekends packed with dance competitions, birthday parties, and neighborhood BBQs. I'm grateful for the life we life and who we live it with. I'm exhausted, but we can all see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Dance competitions that take over our weekends.

School is almost out!

It was great to visit blog friends. I feel like I should say "Have a nice Summer" and "KIT". Because if I have learned anything about having a blog, you have to live life, to share life. Have a nice summer blog friends, make those memories.

Keep up with me and my fam on Instagram!

Cravings {a story about new motherhood}

2017-04-19T12:57:00.002-07:00

The Honest Co. asked me to write about my experience with baby formula. I was happy to oblige, but it felt like ancient history. Funny, when it came to writing it, I didn't have to dig to deep. Some experiences never leave you. This is my personal account, and I was not compensated in any way. My opinions do not reflect those of The Honest Co. That said, while this is my story, and my opinion, what you feed your baby is your choice. Breastfeeding didn't work out for me, and I'm okay with that now. If it works for you, bless. Now, on to the good stuff.

All those years ago, as I was sleepwalking through my new life as a mother, I would have never imagined that I would long for middle of the night feedings. Those quiet pockets of time, where it was just me and my baby, and I was meeting her most pressing need so simply. When I was in the thick of it, the very trenches of newly anointed motherhood I didn't understand just how precious and fleeting those moments were. It didn't occur to me how quickly they would end. At the time, it felt that I would be stuck in that chaotic place forever.

Motherhood didn't begin that way, there was nothing simple about it. Feeding my first born didn't come with ease. Even in her first few hours, trying to find her latch was proving impossible. Steeled by kind words from friends, books and articles, I pressed on as we went from hospital to home. Still the latch was elusive. I tried every trick, every hack, nipple shield, and breast pump. When my milk finally came in, pumping felt like a tortuous consolation prize to motherhood, and those measly four ounces did nothing for myself esteem. We, my daughter and I, went two weeks in a constant loop of nipple shield, screaming, crying, pumping, and finally a bottle of whatever came out in the pump. I was exhausted. I was devastated. More than that, I just knew I was failing as a mother.

Today, I can look back on that period and see that this was just my first hurdle in my journey as a new mom. As devastated as I was, this was the first big decision I had to make. Not the choice or crib or car seat, not the decision to swaddle or not swaddle, it was this very simple in theory, but very difficult in reality choice that I had to make.

What to feed this child? My child.

Back then I was too worried about that the "books" said. About what my friends said. Why was the most natural thing in the world, not the most natural thing for me? Listening to remarks about formula made it feel like a dirty word. This was supposed to be a joyous time, a simple time, when feeding my child was as easy as a bottle or breast. But this decision felt loaded, one wrong move and lives would be ruined... Or would they?

I was wrong about formula, and I was wrong about breastfeeding. In a time before "mom shaming" on social media platforms, I was internally shaming myself. It took me a minute to realize that this choice was all my own. A choice I had to make for my daughter, but also a rather importance choice for me.

I didn't realize we were starving. Her sharp cries at all hours were obvious evidence. My vacant stare as I tried to get her to eat, were silent screams of my own. New motherhood is both seductive and abusive. It entices with it's simple joys, breaks you with it's monotony. What had started as a small battle in my hospital bed hours after my first born's birth, forged into an all out war at home. Why couldn't I feed this tiny person? I was so unsure and self conscious for the first time since junior high. In the back of my mind I knew the answer, but the defeat I'd have to deal with paralyzed me. How was I going to fold on this first test of motherhood? I was scared I was doing everything wrong. My daughter was starving. And we both craved something bigger than both of us. We craved peace. We craved contentment. We craved ease.

Choosing to feed my daughter formula was the first big decision I made as a mother. It wasn't an easy one to make, and I still had miles to go to find my footing as a mother. Still, it was the first step in finding confidence and the first real step in finding that peace, my daughter and I both craved. I had wasted so much time worrying about what to feed my baby, and not enough time enjoying the miracle that was my baby. It was time to enjoy and embrace this new life as a mother. It was time to discover what kind of mother I was going to be, what kind of mother I wanted to be. So breastfeeding didn't work for me. The only person who noticed was me, my daughter was too busy eating to pay any mind to where we got her food. Scoop by precious scoop, we found the peace and ease we were craving. And to my surprise it didn't feel a bit like losing or giving up, it felt exactly right in my corner of motherhood.

I catch myself these days, longing for those middle of the night feedings. Usually when I wake up to go to the gym way before the sun comes up, I feel a little tug on my heart. In those quiet moments, where the entire house is asleep, I think back to those days when it was just the two of us in a rocker. The glare of the television, the sharp burp of contentment from a perfect tiny human. Those days when a bottle and the sunrise were our only company. I miss that simple pleasure of being able to meet that one and only craving, that most important need. Meeting her needs these day is rarely simple, as she is almost ten, and everything is of dire importance.

Some mornings, when I go into her room to wake her, I find myself crawling into bed with her. Reminiscent of those days long gone, it's just the two of us, and the tiny bit of morning seeping through her mini blinds. It's quiet, just her and I, no Dad, no little sister, no distractions. I indulge that craving of a simpler time for me, and her constant craving of having mom all to herself for her. We find that peace and ease that we are still always craving from each other.

One ounce at a time.

Thirty Nine {and counting}

2017-03-23T21:58:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I'll be thirty nine. THIRTY. NINE. Weird. I don't feel thirty nine. I don't remember aging. I still feel every bit of twenty nine, even thirty, if only in spirit. In my mind I'm still young. My spirit hasn't aged a day, but my body has. My mind and my heart have grown up too. I have aged everyday to discover that on Sunday I will wake up and start by thirty ninth year. It's wild.

This week I gave a lot of thought to turning thirty nine. That digit so close to forty, it was a little shocking. I thought, wouldn't it be great to be twenty nine again? Ten years younger? When my hair was thicker hair and I had zero crows feet. To be on the cusp of motherhood again, and really if I'm honest, adulthood. I was truly still a newlywed ten years ago. I remember looking better, and that independent spirit. The freedom of being a twosome. Sleeping all day on Sunday. Rarely grocery shopping. If I didn't do laundry on Sunday night the only person without clean panties was me. If I didn't cook dinner, I was the only one forced to forage in the pantry. Sure I was married, but the Hubbs rarely cared about such things. The Hubbs and I were young and free and didn't answer to anyone but ourselves.

Then the memories slowly started to trickle in. I was pregnant the year I was twenty nine. I remember I spent that birthday eating ice cream and gluten free cake until I was almost sick. I remember propping up swollen ankles and marveling at a growing belly, loving every minute of "being fat" with a purpose. For the first time in my life I regarded my big belly with pride, not the shame that had followed me since junior high. I was elated that soon I would be a mom. Some one's mom. Welcoming a little girl into the world. Knowing that it was going to be the best thing that had ever happened to me.

As many of you know it was. And it wasn't.

Twenty nine and thirty were just about the hardest years of my life.

I've been told that twenty nine is the perfect age to start a family, and sure, for me it was. By twenty nine I was out of college and in a career, not my chosen one, but I was making money. I had lived enough to know that hangovers were total bullshit so tried to avoid those at all cost. Thanks to a financial savvy husband I was spending smarter, saving better. It made total and complete sense that he and I waited to get married and waited a little longer to start a family.

But there was something sinister about twenty nine.

By twenty nine, I knew what failure looked like, and I knew what failure felt like. By twenty nine I had floated on a string of successes since graduating from high school. In my mind I was well on my way to being the best mother and wife the world had ever seen, because why wouldn't I be. Hadn't I always achieved great success just by trying? In my mind motherhood was going to be just like everything else I had done in my life. I would work hard, and poof. I would be perfect at it.

At twenty nine I was also dumb, naive and not even a little bit ready for my new life.

To be young again.

Nope. Never mind. I don't want to be that young again.

I don't want to be the scared first time mother who just knew mind body and soul that she was messing up her kid every single second of the day. I don't want to be that zombie of a mom who spent close to a year going through the motions. I don't want to be that sleep deprived ever again. I don't ever want to be that angry ever again because I couldn't breastfeed, sleep-train an infant, or finish the laundry before my husband came home from work. I don't want to hate my body that much, because I couldn't lose the baby weight, because I was eating my feelings. I don't want to suffer from such a level of self hate, or such an insane level of self doubt ever again.

I don't want to be that twenty nine year old new mother, stumbling and hating every minute of it.

That shit sucked. That year sucked. Twenty nine sucked.

The best thing about twenty nine though, the ten years that followed didn't suck. In fact they were fantastic.

Somewhere around thirty one I found my footing. I became a better mother because I realized that it wasn't any one's business if I bottle fed or co slept. I became a somewhat better wife, but only because I realized that no one really notices base boards or dirty laundry. I found some joy in the monotony of motherhood, solace in the semi-scheduled life of my toddler. Then as soon as I got my "sea legs" I got pregnant again and right around thirty two welcomed my second daughter. This time I was ready. That breast is best bullshit went out the window. I put a twin bed in her room next to her crib, made sure the TV in there had cable, knowing I'd spent a lot of time in that nursery. I knew the routine of a new born, more of less, and wasn't scared this time. This time around motherhood brought me joy. Regardless of the chaos and the bullshit. I found that happy place where it all intersects.

By thirty five I had found the power in the written word, regardless if those words were written by me. I had always loved to write, but starting a blog changed everything. It changed the way I felt about myself. It brought me such a feeling of success when I hit publish even if my mom and best friends were the only ones reading. Blogging, fueled by motherhood, made me brave, made me strong, made me realize that I had worth. Writing helped me find my new self. The one who had laugh lines and grey hair. The new me that had an extra ten pounds that wasn't ever going away. The new me that was born the day my first child was born. The me I was always supposed to be, but was never brave enough to recognize.

Recently, as in the past year, I've given up on a lot of things. Like my weight. I go to the gym, and have a love for running that makes me absolutely loathe myself (in a good way because what kind a masochistic bitch loves to run? oh yea me). I also like to eat, and Paleo diets are full of fat, so as I count down to forty, I realize that this is my size. I'm not shy about saying I run to eat. No boot camp, ab challenge, or cleanse will do it any justice, and at this point, I'm fine with that. I also wear jeans that are higher waisted because I can't stand for my ass crack to show. Call me crazy but that just isn't cute on an old lady like me. I no longer worry about the "rolls" that hang over the waist of pants and skirts. The ones on my back and under my arms. My body is just softer and rounder these days. Ten years ago I would have bought new clothes to cover them up. Today, nah. I'm some body's mother. And lets be honest, no one is looking at the old lady in cropped jeans and a flannel anyway. I don't turn heads, and I'm totally okay with that.

My forehead wrinkles in my selfies. There are lines around my eyes. My make up doesn't do the same tricks that it used to. My hair is mostly grey these days, thankfully I spend most of my money on box dyes. Still, I wouldn't go back. I wouldn't want to wake up twenty nine again. I don't think I could do that shit twice.

On Sunday I'll be thirty nine. I'm grateful. I'm happy. I'm content. I turned out okay. I've learned a lot in ten years. I'm still an okay wife. I'm a pretty damn good mom. Ten years ago I ached for this life. I yearned to be this person. Self assured, confident, adjusted, happy. I wanted so much to be the mom I am today, I just didn't know it. I didn't know that being completely imperfect in every way would complete me in a way that would make me weep.

The question is, who will I be at forty nine?

I'm excited to find out.

We don't have time to pee... {December 2016}

2017-01-09T22:13:00.002-08:00

I've done nothing but sleep and read since the day after Christmas. That's not the whole truth, but it's 95% of it. December was a blur, and not in the cliche way, like it was so magical and jammed packed with fun it just flew by. No, it was a blur because it was jam packed with obligation and work and school and homework and unnecessary class party bullshit.

Oh. Wow, that took a turn. Sorry. Rant over.

Seriously, though. Can I be honest for a minute here? December was kind of a shit show. Between dance and Girl Scouts and dance recitals and school and homework and oh yeah, actual work, we were scheduled to the very minute. Every single minute of every single day contained a task, a plan, a to do list, some kind of obligation. I know what you're thinking. You do this to yourself, Meg. You say yes, you want to be the room mom and the scout leader and the mom who does all the fun holidays stuff like make sugar cookies and gingerbread from scratch. Yes. You're right. I'm guilty of wanting and not wanting to be that kind of mom, simultaneously. But if over scheduling a life was an Olympic event, I'd be a gold medalist to a Michael Phelps degree.

I didn't plan for an over scheduled holiday season. You would think since I'm a retail warrior I'd plan better since Christmas ornaments hit the sales floor on October (not even kidding). You would think that since I spent the week before Thanksgiving in Disneyland that was decorated within an inch of its life for Christmas I would have been better prepared.

I wasn't.

Fully aware of the calendar I still didn't even have a chance to make cookies with the girls until the week of the 17th. The 17th I made the dough, the 18th we cut them out and baked them, and on the 19th after school and before dance we decorated them. I'm not even joking a little that these were 110% scheduled. Within an inch of our lives.

Christmas shopping was done via Amazon and my weekly day off. It's almost impossible to shop on the weekend with kids who are old enough to know what kind of Santa shit you are trying to pull. I took an extra day off to wrap gifts. And then actually followed through and wrapped gifts because if not nine days before Christmas then when? Never, it would have never happened.

One afternoon during a Target run, in between dance (Mackenzie) and dance (Caitlin), I actually told Mackenzie, "We don't have time to pee". Bathroom breaks had not been scheduled for this Target run, and if we stopped we would be late to the next pressing appointment (dance). Don't worry, I'm not a monster, I took her to the restroom. Still I said the words, because I felt them with my entire body and soul. They were cold hard facts, I had not scheduled time to pee.

We made some good memories. I promise we did. The kind of memories that come with having a harried over scheduled slash over achieving mother. My daughters will always remember the "great boot hunt of 2016" the night before the Christmas program, staying out at the mall until 9 at night when we should have all been in bed, or at least homework for that matter. They will always remember the winter dance recital where their mom didn't realize how long it would take to do hair and make up on her two daughters plus herself. Which meant a breakfast of French fries and Dr Pepper courtesy of Jack in the Box, which they bragged about all day. My girls will never forget the last minute dash to do all the things: ugly sweater selfies, teacher gifts and making reindeer food in the 11th hour on Christmas Eve. Not even kidding when I say that we made reindeer food, put that shit out and went to bed.

These are the moments that allow great children to become great adults. I promise you. Carefully curated Christmases are for psychopaths. Or so I continue to tell myself.

We had a fantastic Christmas. Was it sparkly and Instagram ready? Of course not. But after almost ten years of motherhood, it my brand of perfect. I wasn't ready, but I'm beginning to think I never will be. Not all the decorations made it out. The craft supplies that were supposed to be our 2016 ornaments are still sitting in the bag. The wreath I wanted to re-do has be carefully repacked into its bin. That beautiful chocolate gingerbread cake that I planned on baking in October, is still waiting to be baked. I never did see Love Actually all the way through. I never did read Jolly Postman Holiday to the kids. But none of those things matter now. Not really. We could do all of those things now, in January. In preparation for next year. Maybe the key to fitting in all the things in December is to start doing them in January. Eureka! I'm a genius.

Now, in the most cliche way I have blinked and it's January. Actually it's January ninth, and my kids go back to school tomorrow. We are back to our regularly scheduled programming, and December is but a blur. Except for the fact that I still want to sleep all day and read all night. But I've held that belief since college. I'd like to say that December 2016 was the hardest and worst of the Decembers yet, but that would be a lie. The truth is, living on the edge, over scheduled and overwhelmed is exactly how I roll ninety nine percent of the time. That's where the naps come in.

That my friends is how you win at December-ing.

Goodbye December/ Goodbye 2016

2016-12-31T21:39:00.001-08:00

It occurred to me an hour ago that I had not posted a single thing in the month of December.

I should have realized this sooner, but the truth is, I was too busy. Too overwhelmed. Too distracted by a season that should have been more focused.

My last post to this blog was November 8th, and after that it seems as though I have blinked and today is December 31st.

To say that December was hard is a complete understatement. Busy became a four letter word. I struggled the entire month to hold on tight to traditions, my knuckles turning white, and seemed to fail regularly. Christmas cookies were a three night project. I took a day off from work to wrap gifts. Class gifts were forgotten, gift cards were chosen last minute, even my regular binge of Christmas movies didn't happen before the 25th.

I spent the last 10 days before Christmas in a panic. How would it all get done? The class parties and the dance lessons, and the parties at the dance lessons. The Girl Scout party, the "Adults only" Christmas party, the family celebrations. As usual, they all fell into place, some last minute, some by the skin of our teeth. Some things we just had to let go of, because there were never enough minutes, barely enough moments.

That is why I woke up on Christmas Eve and decided to be happy. I made the conscious effort to be content. That is why I watched all five of my favorite Christmas movies between the 24th and the 26th. All in bits and pieces, I only saw my favorite scene in Love Actually (Hugh as the PM dancing, because duh); half of The Holiday while Santa worked furiously putting together a doll house. I switched back and forth between A Christmas Story and Scrooged. Home Alone on Christmas Eve afternoon while I baked cakes. It wasn't pretty or perfect, but I saw enough of them to soothe my soul. To make it feel like I was ready for Christmas.

Because I needed to be ready, for my family, for my kids, and I wasn't quite in the Christmas spirit. But the bits and pieces came together and made it feel whole enough to tear open gifts and eat candy first thing in the morning. To enjoy gifts of coloring books and colored pencils. To laugh with and at cousins I don't see regularly. To make reindeer food last minute with my girls who couldn't go to bed until the milk and cookies were out, and the reindeer food sprinkled.

We spent a rushed Christmas happily. All the traditions we didn't get to were forgotten Christmas morning. We didn't look back, we were too busy celebrating.

Truth is we are still celebrating. Our tree is still up, the lights are still on the house.

We haven't finished quite yet.

Because we made it to today, with a few bumps, but we still made it.

I'm grateful for that. I'm grateful for today and all the yesterdays of 2016. Even if some of them were complete and total bullshit. Even if some of the days included loved ones getting life altering diagnosis. Even if some of those days included fights about politics with family members. Even if some of those days included mom fails and wife fails and all around adulting fails.

I'm grateful I'm here. With my health and my family. With the people I love and those that love me. Tonight I'm heavy with reflection as I say goodbye to 2016. I'm heavy with hope for 2017. Mostly I'm happy and thankful as I greet a new year. It's like opening a fresh notebook. Blank pages just waiting to be filled.

Cheers to filling them well.

Chapter One...

30 Day Writing Challenge {Day 1 /Social Media}

2016-11-08T22:34:00.007-08:00

As you can see, I'm publishing these out of order, the only reason is that I'm just writing the prompts and they are piling up before I can get them onto the blog. Day 1 was "The Problem with Social Media". I write these on my phone and leave them pretty much unedited. If you want to join in the challenge, check out the pin and jump in!

At first glance the obvious problem with social media would be the time it can consume, the envy that it can bring, the bullying that inevitably follows, and the overall idiocy that continues. Right now social media is a mirror image of what's happening in our lives. The election, black lives vs blue lives, trashy Halloween costumes, celebrity scandals and gossip. People are bullied. Families are divided over Hillary vs Trump and everyone is offended.

I could write for hours on all the problems and issues that plague social media.

Instead, Here is what I know is great about social media.

I'm connected with friends and relatives that I normally wouldn't be. Some live near, some live far, but thanks to Facebook and Instagram they are a click away.

I like that my husband and I speak meme, fluently. We can send each other memes all day long and talk and laugh about them later. I love those direct messages from him.

I love that social media allows me to connect with people I would never meet otherwise. Two of my dearest friends are products of the blogging world. We've only met up three or four times in real life. We text every day. Without social media, I wouldn't have them in my life and that would be a crime.

I love that people all over the world can have a heart felt connection over a cat video or a sheriff dancing in a high school gym. Real connections. Sharing comments. Being kind or showing support. It's fun to read positive reactions instead of the negative ones usually highlighted on social media.

I love so many things about social media, about my iPhone, about Internet connections. For all the awful and negative aspects of this new age of communication, there are so many positive ones. It's true that my children will never know about a life without Facebook or Instagram. A life where real, tangible mail ruled. A world where you couldn't just download the best selling book or movie the night it was released. Standing in line on press day, waiting for the five o'clock news, having to wait for a rerun of a favorite show, are just tales of lore. Stories of yesteryear.

Still there is something to be said about watching a table of ladies, grandmas and great grandmas to be specific, taking pictures of each other, then taking selfies. Maybe they all have Facebook accounts to keep up with the kids. Maybe they have Instagram accounts for all the filters. Maybe one of those cool grannies even has a Snapchat and added the deer filter. I have no idea, but from where I sat last Saturday in a restaurant, those ladies were happy as can be. Armed with iPhones and great filters. Giggling and laughing at what technology is doing for them.

Oh to be that cool one day.

30 Day Writing Challenge {Day 2: Earliest Memories}

2016-11-06T18:47:00.003-08:00

November is National Novel Writing Month and every November I promise myself that I'm going to hunker down and write my novel. I haven't, but what I found was a 30 day writing challenge for the month to spark some creativity. I found this pin on Pinterest, and have been following it, mostly. I've also used this one too.

Day 2 was "Your Earliest Memory" and I had a few to share. This was fun to write, even if it was just on my phone while my girls were at dance. If you want to join in the challenge, check out the pin and jump in!

I can remember going to preschool, Bo Peep and Ms. Jean was my teacher. I always wanted to get the "good egg" award. It was given to the most well behaved children at the end of the day. It was a card stock egg, on a string. It was coveted by all the children. I remember the beautiful schoolhouse that was once an actual house on a street in town, and it had neighbors. I remember celebrating my fifth birthday with the most beautiful cupcakes from Pollyanna bakery. White cupcakes with white butter cream air brushed to look like grass, with jelly beans and candy eggs on top. The privilege of being a spring baby. I remember the playground. Filled with play houses with real food boxes, recycled for play before people did such things. A large fort with real logs. Play cars that I literally fought over. Because the red one was always mine. I remember the most delicious sugar cookies, their tops packed with “nonpareils”, every color of the rainbow. I nibbled that cookie all the way down to my fingertips but refused to eat more, because my hands were dirty from playing outside. My request to wash them denied, my need for clean, germ free hands, intense. But I remember the cookie, still thirty four years later. The buttery film it left in my mouth, the crunch of the non perils, the heartbreak of losing the last third of it to dirty hands.

I remember my first quesadilla. Jack cheese on corn tortillas. More please. I always wanted more of whatever My grandma Chila was cooking. We sat on the porch of her house, watching the cars go by, the afternoon sun fading, a glorious day for Salinas. A rare fog free day. We waited there for my mom to pick me up after work. Maybe I was four, maybe I was five. I remember my Grandpa's red and white can of Budweiser, the sharp tang of the Monterey Jack cheese, the soft shell of the corn tortilla. I can still see the angle of the sun on the porch, and know all these years later that I was barefoot and in shorts. I can still feel the sun on my back from the beautiful Salinas day.

I can remember the first time I wrote my name, in a picture book. Over sized capital “E” and “A”, as though I had a preference for vowels. I had been writing my bike in the driveway and stopped to look at the book. The sun was bright and I had to squint to see my name on the page. The first time I remember reading was with Mrs. Perkinson my kindergarten teacher. I read her flash cards of colors, orange and red, purple and blue, then of words like house and cat. I can still remember the paste in the jars, the stamps on the back of my hand when we were good, the lunch that my grandma would pack… One half ham sandwich on white, one half banana, red juice in a plastic barrel that she had bought at Monte Mart, because I didn’t like milk.

For the month of November I'll be posting the things that I write in this challenge. It just takes me a few days to get them from my phone and edited. I hope you liked reading as much as I liked writing.

Uncommon Gifts for this Holiday Season {Uncommon Goods}

2016-11-01T18:15:00.003-07:00

***I was approached by Uncommon Goods to give my honest opinion on their site and the kinds of products they offer. The opinions expressed in this post are mine. I've been a fan of Uncommon Goods for years, so this was a fun post to write. And yes, I was compensated for this post.***

Halloween has passed, and I’m playing Christmas music and strategically planning my Christmas shopping. To be honest I think about Christmas gifts all year because I have a lot of gifts to buy, but I also like to find unique gifts for my family. I love finding things that they love, and maybe wouldn’t buy for themselves. This gets difficult with my kiddos that are spoiled rotten and have everything you see in Target. I love when I can find something that isn’t Disney or whatever movie is currently playing. For the adults in my life, like the Hubbs, I love finding gifts that will make an impression. Half the fun of shopping is in the “hunt”, what’s great about Uncommon Goods, is that you can “hunt” in your pajamas!

Uncommon Goods is a great website to find gifts for everyone on your list. From Infants to Grandparents and everyone in between you are sure to find something they will love. Uncommon Goods also has a registry and a Blog called The Goods, where they go in depth when presenting their products. What I love about Uncommon Goods is that they have unique gifts from artists around the world that they partner with. Many of them right here is the USA. Great for family members that want American made products, and for those of us who try to keep it “local”.

For this post, I scoured their website to find some great gifts for those folks on my “Hard to Buy” list, for my kiddos, and of course, Me. I couldn’t post every item, but here are my favorites.

For my “Hard to Buy” folks, I started with (1) Game of Phones, which will keep us all connected and engaged, because lets face it we are all on our phones anyway. I love that it’s competitive texting and Google searches, among other competitions. A (2) Smart Phone projector makes a movie night possible anywhere and anytime. I have family members that travel so how fun would this be on a long trip? Also for my friends that have impatient little ones, movie nights in forts while the adults recover from the day. I loved these (3) Zodiac necklaces for my women friends. Unique to each person who receives it, but also not overly flashy. I love that these necklaces can be worn all the time, dressy or casual. For my wine enthusiast friends, (4) Personalized Wine Barrel lazy Susans are perfect. Each can bring some rustic charm to any setting, and how perfect would they be for cheese and crackers? Score! Finally for my beer drinking folks, (5) and Insulated Growler. Perfect for the tailgater in your life, or maybe the camper. It holds 64 ounces and stays cold for 24 hours. You can also take it a step further and get the keg kit that goes with it, to turn the growler into a personal keg!

Searching for unique gifts for my kids was super fun. My girls are spoiled rotten, so I’m always looking for gifts that you can’t just buy anywhere, but also will make an impact. I mean, how many more Shopkins can we buy at this point? For Caitlin I loved the (1) Llama Pouch. It’s perfect for pencils, make up, or whatever she can stuff into it. She loves anything with animals these days, so this seems like a great buy. For both girls (2) the Mobi Math Game. It’s like Scrabble, but numbers. I’m sure they won’t even notice they are learning since they are so competitive. I’m pretty sure they both need (3) Gummy Bear lights, because really who doesn’t need Gummy Bear lights in their life? And finally, (4) Unicorn and Rainbow mismatched earrings. Unicorns are big in our house right now. These are just perfect.

Of course I could not visit any website with awesome products and not create a wish list for myself. I absolutely want a (1) plush uterus. Sure there are other organs available, but come on, the uterus is the only way to go. It’s looks so mild and unassuming, like most organs, but we all know she is the strongest. I also have to have (2) Game of Phones. Any game that allows me to be on my phone with purpose is okay in my book. (3) The Zodiac necklace is a must, especially since it’s pictured in my sign, so now I know I can’t live without it. But my real wish is to have (4) The Diana Camera. It’s a definite throwback, as it takes real film… Real FILM. It also produces those soft and dreamy images that we all flock to Instagram to create. It’s a must have for any photography enthusiast, or for someone like me who is just obsessed with Instagram.

Even if you haven't started your Christmas shopping, Uncommon Goods is a great place to go when you need a unique gift for the special people in your life. Check out these other categories and my favorite picks from each one...

Great Personalized Anniversary gifts can be found on the Uncommon Goods top picks page. My Favorites include: The Personalized Family Print, turn your family into a fun illustration; The Intersection of Love print, you and your love intersecting in name; and these amazing personalized Whiskey Barrels, I'm not a fan of whiskey, but my best friend is and she would love this in her life!

Need a one of a kind baby gift? Need a housewarming gift for the family that has everything? Is Dad tired of socks and ties? Uncommon Goods top Personalized Gift collection is the place to find the perfect gift. My top three from this collection are: The personalized Alphabet Book for any child on your list, an awesome baby shower or first Christmas gift; The Personalized Amp Doormat, awesome for those rockers in your life; and The Baseball Stadium Blueprint, for any baseball fanatic!

Finally my top three birthday gifts for her, picked from the Uncommon Goods Birthday Gifts collection. The Make a Wish personalized birthday candle, with the birthday girls name and age; The Friendship Tree trinket box, for your dearest friend; and The New York Times Custom Birthday Book, which is a collection of the Times front page every year since you were born, what a unique gift for news lovers in your life!

Shopping is one of my favorite things to do, so this post was so fun to write. I hope I’ve peaked your interest and you will be headed to Uncommon Goods soon to check them out. Hopefully I’ve helped you find some great gifts for people on your list this Holiday Season. Check out Uncommon Goods on Facebook and Instagram for more gift ideas.

Happy Shopping friends!

Taking Stock {October 2016}

2016-10-24T20:32:00.001-07:00

I haven't blogged in so long that I was looking for a way to come back and not write an extremely long post about life. In the past I've always loved the Taking Stock posts because they give readers a look into what you are doing right now. What you are loving, living, and eating which is super important right? Here is my Taking Stock for October.

Making:

Anything and everything that is pumpkin and also gluten free. The Trader Joe’s pancake mix is amazing and smells like all your pumpkin spice dreams are coming true. It’s a must in this house, because you can very easily turn it into Pumpkin Spice Gluten Free Donuts! I know. Life changing.

Cooking:

Dinner. At least once a week. Hot dogs and tater tots count right? I mean I do have to turn on my oven and all.

Drinking:

Starbucks Iced Tea. I’m not supposed to have it because I’m supposed to stay away from caffeine, but once a week I treat myself. It’s so bad, but also so good.

Munching: On this fantastic gluten free popcorn mix made with SkinnyPop popcorn. I used gluten free ingredients to make it gf friendly. It’s so easy to make: Buy one bag SkinnyPop popcorn in the original flavor, one bag candy corn, one bag white chocolate chips and one bag mini chocolate chips. Mix popcorn, 2 handfuls of mini chips and half a bag of candy corn together in a bowl. Melt the white chocolate chips and pour over mixture in the bowl. Stir to combine and pour out onto parchment or wax paper. When cool eat, or eat immediately! Add sprinkles if you want! Super yummy and easy to make!

Reading:

I read Winter Storms, by Elin Hilderbrand, who is one of my favorite authors. It’s a story that is set during the holidays which I love and its also the last book in a trilogy which totally breaks my heart. I also finished In Twenty Years, by Allison Winn over the weekend. It was fantastic, especially if you are on the verge of forty. I loved it.

Wanting:

All the boots. All the scarves. All the skinny jeans. And the all the cold weather so I can wear all these things.

Looking:

For skinny jeans that will fit a petite person who carries their weight in their mid section and also has a flat ass… For a friend. I’m asking for a friend.

Listening:

To 90s alternative on Pandora. Always 90s alternative on Pandora. Also the Chili Peppers new one that was released over the summer.

Wasting:

Precious hours watching New Girl. Before October I had only watched a few episodes, but now, I’ve seen everything except the current season. I always knew I’d love the show, but I just didn’t realize how much. I haven’t laughed this hard in years, and I laugh so loud that I scare the kids. I’m pretty sure Nick Miller is my spirit animal!

Wishing:

That the Giants would have made it to the World Series. Totally bummed that this wasn’t our “even” year.

Enjoying:

Cooler nights and mornings. That way I can fake some fall fashion before the temperature is back up to 80 degrees!

Waiting:

And counting down the days until our Disneyland Trip! I have been to the park almost twenty times, but never when it’s decked out for Christmas. I’m beyond excited.

Liking:

That I changed my schedule to have Wednesdays off. It’s the day we have the most dance classes, so it just made sense.

Wondering: How next Tuesday is NOVEMBER FIRST!

Loving: Running. I know, but don’t hate me. A few years ago I became one of those people who loves to run after a lifetime of hating it. I have a 5:30 am call time with some girlfriends and it’s so fun to go and gab with them, but even better I get to run the “bitch” out. That’s what my neighbor says, and I believe her. It totally helps!

Hoping: That I can finish my Christmas shopping by Thanksgiving weekend. Praying on this also.

Marveling: That another year has past, faster than the last.

Needing: Boots. My others are trashed.

Wearing: The amazing boyfriend cut shirts from Old Navy and Rockstar jeans, which I will admit, I hated Rockstars in the beginning. But they fit really well (except in the butt, they sag, a lot!) and the mid rise waist guarantees that my crack will not show at work. No one wants to see “old lady crack”.

Following: Dan Rather on Facebook. I’m a liberal, so I may be super biased, but I love what he posts. He brings a historical element to this election that I find fascinating.

Noticing: That I have missed blogging and writing so much, but also noticing that I don’t feel as guilty as I used to when I skip it.

Thinking: About the Christmas story that I’ve been writing for two years may need to see the light of day.

Pinning: Gorgeous things for Thanksgiving and Christmas! Also delicious things for both holidays.

Giggling: With my husband at night after the kids go to bed. A few nights ago it was at Revenge of the Nerds. Before that A League of Their Own. Most nights its memes on Instagram.

Feeling: Like I want time to slow down. My favorite time of year is the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I have a feeling that they are going to fly by this year.

What are you taking stock of these days?

Inspired by this post

Better Things are on the way! {Mom Giveaway}

2016-09-22T02:30:00.000-07:00

I've been talking up the new FX show Better Things for over a week. Thanks for FX, I have a new favorite show! Thursday nights at 10 pm are booked for this season, which says a lot since I'm a huge fan of How to Get Away with Murder, which is on at the same time! Serious choices are happening.

If you read my first Better Things post, then you know I love Sam and her gang, but last week's episode (episode two) introduced us to Sam's mom, Phil. How do I explain Phil? I can't, you have to see her in all her British accented glory. Don't miss a moment of Sam and her life as TVs best mother.

To celebrate Sam, and mothers everywhere, FX has sent me a gift basket to giveaway to one of my readers. What fabulous swag can you look forward to? Giveaway items include:

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

Chipolo Bluetooth keyring

Leather Clutch for mom’s things

Emergency Beauty Kit

Hypoallergenic travel pillow

Ultra-Soft travel pillow protector

Essential Oils Blend Mini

Cool Blue Tooth Keyring and Ray Ban Sunnies in a ultra hip black leather clutch!

Super soft travel pillow!

Glamorous Ray Ban Sunnies in their signature case!

All you have to do to enter is leave a comment on this blog about your current guilty pleasure. Starbucks? Chocolate? Grey's Anatomy? Currently mine is Better Things... So tell me yours for one entry. For extra entries, visit my Facebook page, visit my Instagram feed, or SHARE THIS BLOG POST! When you do, tag me so I can count your entry. This giveaway will close MONDAY 9/25.

Have fun, and don't miss tonight's new episode of Better Things!

Embracing My Mess {Life Lately} September Sixteen

2016-09-19T22:05:00.000-07:00

via

For weeks I have been trying to embrace my mess. To love and thrive in the chaos that is my life.

In my mind, there are so many things to say, to write, to share. I'm overwhelmed at where to start.

I'll start with summer and go from there.

I spent the summer in organized chaos. A sweet symphony of being over scheduled and overjoyed. It was a balancing act, trying to stay on top of obligations while still maintaining some spontaneity. We spent the summer dancing, literally, with both girls at the studio. School ended and recitals and competitions began. Then a full schedule of summer classes. I worked in between being at the studio with the girls and being home, but only part time which makes me incredibly happy. Part time has finally allowed me to moonlight as a sometimes working mom, bringing home "light" bacon, just enough to fund our Target addiction. We swam at my mama's pool. Sometimes all day, sometimes all night. Fresno boiled and baked us in the hot sun. Our bodies tan and sun kissed. Our ears plugged with chlorinated water and our hair tangled and crunchy. It was beautiful and glorious and exactly the kind of summer I have always wanted to give my kids.

I spent late nights with my neighbors and friends. Taking and laughing and sharing meals. Watching the Olympics and cheering for team USA and committing ourselves to insuring that one of our kids will be an Olympian one day and then we can all go and cheer USA together. Ping Pong or Women's trampoline has top billing in this house. Who needs gymnastics?

The Hubbs and I spent the summer trying to keep up with the girls and each other. Sundays spent lazily. Sometimes, most times in bed, watching movies with bad words and napping, among other things. There were no designated date nights. Just easy, lazy, summer nights, enjoying our company, our surroundings, and our shared sense of humor. There were heated political debates. We almost got a dog. We sent each other private messages on Instagram that were always inappropriate, but perfect if you know us in real life. Summer is our best season, it always has been.

Then school started and the organized chaos just became chaos. From school to dance to home to bed. On loop like some kind of video surveillance, titled, "Insight into an over scheduled life". This year I have a fourth grader and a first grader, which is hard for me to believe. Our homework schedules include 20 minutes of reading and at least 20 spelling words a night. The first week of school was rocky at best with a new dance schedule and back to school kicking us around. Exhaustion set in, and by the first Friday, we were fried.

When I think about this school year, I can see the road ahead of me. All I can see are bumps. A rocky road filled with a schedules and obligations. Not only have I committed my daughters to a hectic dance schedule but I've also committed myself. I don't always just drop them off, on Mondays and Wednesdays I sit for 3-4 hours at a time. I'm at dance as I write this. I'm going to email it to myself and copy and paste into my blog template later. If I didn't email myself my writing, I may never write, I'd never get it down. This year I'm also on the schools PTC executive board, serving as the secretary. Which means I'm at all events early; movie night, back to school night, open house, you name it, I'll be there. I'm still a Girl Scout leader and our scout year begins this Thursday. School has been in session for a month and I'm already thinking about June.

Not really. Just a little. With every bump in the road, there will be a blessing. I know that, I have faith in that. Blessings will come when I least expect them, when I think I can't take another step. I've learned that blessings always rise from mess and chaos. Little moments that make all the bullshit matter. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I overbook my life? It's nature. I've always been an "over booker". If over scheduling my life was an Olympic sport I'd be a gold medalist. I said yes to all of those things. I have committed myself to a busy year. Don't feel sorry for me, I want to do all of those things, I wanted to do them when I signed up. But I also want to be lazy. I want to watch everything in my DVR and sleep in on Sundays. And I will. Don't worry about me. I'm lazy most days. Laundry is rarely folded, dishes pile up. Please never stop by my house unannounced because my bathroom looks like a fairy tale wasteland with Lalaloopsy dolls in the bathtub and the remains of a murdered tube of toothpaste in the sink. Towels litter the floor because that's my life. Please always give me 10 minutes to pretend I'm the kind of mom who cares when mostly I don't. Little by little, toothpaste glob by toothpaste glob, I'm embracing my mess. Even when I'm embarrassed by the towels and the Lalaloopsy dolls.

With school back in session and something that resembles a schedule falling into place,I've been trying to get back into blogging. All summer I tried. But the pull. The pull to be with my family. My friends. The pull to watch new TV shows. The pull to spend all day at the pool. The pull was greater than the pen. I missed it, I did. When I found a spare moment, mostly late at night, I did write, a little fiction, a little fact. Mostly, I left it, the keyboard, the screen, and for the first time since I started this blog it felt right. It felt okay, like a relief to be able to leave it. To surrender and say, "I'd rather go to yogurt than type on that keyboard". I used to feel so guilty when I'd skip a post. I'd be mad at the world if I couldn't make it to the screen. It would feel like I failed. But in the last year something clicked. My blog, while fun and self serving, wasn't my only identity. My page views or lack thereof no longer dictated how I felt. The comments became non existent, no matter how heartfelt or how much I bled into the post. I got more interaction on Instagram and Facebook and so I started to post little bits there, but soon that fell off too. Soon I didn't know what every single person I followed are for breakfast or lunch. I didn't watch all the Fallon or Kimmel videos that were trending. Last night I got into bed and realized I hadn't been on Instagram or Facebook all day. Something that hasn't happened since I got my first iPhone and added the appropriate apps. Really, it was the first time in years. I was surprised that I didn't miss it. I was surprised that it didn't bother me.

This is me, currently, embracing my mess. Embracing my chaos. This is me as my patience is pushed to the absolute limit, because I am scheduled within an inch of my life. So overbooked that when I forget to buy new tights for ballet or realize that I forgot the spiral bound notebooks or HOLY SHIT WE ARE OUT OF TOILET PAPER, I lament and rant and eat chocolate. Messy happens, it's happening right now.

I never wanted to be "That Mom". The messy one. The late one. The crazy/bonkers/batshit mom. I resisted so hard that it almost killed me. Then I let go. I let all previous expectations go, and embraced the chaos.

This is me, I'm proudly, "That Mom", embracing my mess.

PS: After I emailed this to myself. Ran home to prep dinner so the Hubbs could finish it. Went back to the dance studio to get Daughter #1. We walk into the house and Daughter #1 exclaims that she forgot her lunch box at dance. I went back and got it after dinner. Because it wouldn't be a Monday without more mess.

PPS: Check out another Messy Mom on FX's Better Things. Click here for details!

Profanity over Perfection: Why FX's Better Things is Everything!

2016-09-15T02:30:00.000-07:00

Image via Better Things Facebook Page

Better Things on FX is the perfect portrait of motherhood if your brand of motherhood includes; sarcasm, profanity, and very awkward situations. Rated MASL (mature audiences/sexual situations/language), it’s not going to be every mom’s shot of whiskey, but it is without a doubt, my cup of tea.

Better Things is a new comedy on FX about single mom Sam, and her three daughters; Max, Frankie, and Duke. Sam is a struggling, but working actress, busting her ass to get to casting calls, going over lines last minute. Sam also provides her voice to a kids cartoon, and we see her testing out her characters voice in the sound booth, only to be interrupted by a telephone call from one of her kid's teachers. Sam is a hard working mom both outside and inside the home. Her daughters all test the best of her abilities in their own ways, and Sam does her best to stay afloat. Even when she says that she is “dating her daughters”, she still finds quiet time to text a “buddy”, and enjoy some fun flashbacks, until the sexting runs cold.

Think that Better Things doesn’t sound relatable? There are three super relatable scenes from the Pilot!

The show opens with Sam and her youngest daughter Duke in the mall. Sam is sitting on a bench opposite another mom, while Duke stands beside her sobbing uncontrollably. You can see other kiddos jumping in a play area in the background, Sam is on her phone. The mom opposite Sam is just staring at her as Sam stares at her phone. Casually Sam looks up and explains to the woman that her daughter wants a pair of six dollar earrings in the store ( as she points to an unseen location). As Duke continues to cry, Sam explains that Duke doesn’t even have pierced ears, but she wants six dollar earrings, and she (Sam) is not buying them. Sam then tells the woman to go and buy them, no really go and buy my daughter these earrings… After the woman stares at her for a beat, Sam says, Well if you aren’t going to buy them then stop staring!!!

I’ve never laughed harder or related better to a scene on a television show!

In another scene with Sam and Duke, Duke begs her mommy to lay with her at bedtime. Sam is torn because she really wants to lay with her daughter but knows that if she does she will most certainly fall asleep. Sam tells Duke that she has so much work to do that she can’t fall asleep, but Duke presses harder, and finally Sam lays down next to her in her tiny bed. Sam tells Duke not to touch her with her “magic baby hands” because they will make her fall asleep, and if she falls asleep nothing will get done. The camera pans away and in the next shot we see a sleeping Duke and Sam. Sam opens her eyes, you see the realization that it’s the middle of the night, and you see the “Oh F&ck” look on Sam’s face.

Image via Facebook

I could feel Sam’s panic, and totally understood the impending doom. I too have fallen asleep with my kiddos, only to wake up at two in the morning and realize that the lunches never got made, and the spirit wear shirts are still in the wash. Also the "magic baby hands" are a real thing, I swear.

The third relatable scene was on of Sam in the car with her teenaged daughter Max. Max wants her mom to buy pot for her so that her mom can make sure it’s organic. Sam is driving and trying not to drive off the road while looking at her delusional daughter. Her daughter continues to talk with her mom about drugs and sex and it brings Sam to the edge. She finally yells, “Hide things from me! Please!”. That look on Sam’s face is so familiar because sometimes there are just things that my kid talks about that I just don’t want to know, and someday she will be a teenager and I will need her to hide things from me. Or maybe, at the very least, ease me into it very slowly.

Image via Facebook

I have no doubt that Better Things on FX will be one of my favorite TV shows this fall. To me it feels like a reality show, but for many moms Sam maybe over the top. I’m 99% sure that Sam doesn’t have a Pinterest account and her Instagram, if she has one, is filled with snaps of her kids in poor lighting, or over filtered selfies. If she has Facebook it’s most likely filled with profanity and memes that cater to the mom of a certain age and stress level. Better Things is a show that my best friend and I should have written, because while it seems over the top, it’s incredibly accurate. Even if you don’t relate to the situation in the scene, you will relate to the emotion of that scene. I laughed a lot, but I also cried. Better Things just gets me.

I think my favorite scene in the pilot was the end. We see Sam on a movie set, pulling up her Spanx and readying herself to get shit done.

Like every mom, everywhere.

Better Things is Everything.

Check out Better Things on FX, Thursdays at 10 pm!

What I Read {Behind Closed Doors: Book Review}

2016-08-09T02:30:00.000-07:00

It's very rare that I purchase books that are of the psychological thriller genre. It's not that I don't like that genre, it's just not what I uaually read. Rarely do they have the happy endings of chick lit. They hardly ever end with a feeling of hope or forgiveness like in YA. The only reason I read Gone Girl when it was published was because everyone on the planet was reading it, and the reviews were excellent. It was excellent, so good in fact that at one point I had to stop reading and take a breath. I can't even tell you how entertained and disgusted I was after reading Gone Girl, which until recently was just about all the psychological thriller I could take.

That is why I was shocked when I had to finish Behind Closed Doors in one sitting. In one sitting! I could not put this book down. I had to get the entire story, I had to know how it started, how it ended, how little side stories of George Clooney or a sweet little puppy fit into this giant puzzle of a book. At times I knew I was reading important information, and was racing to figure out its importance!

Behind Closed Doors is the story of Jack and Grace Angel, presumably the most perfect couple. Jack, is a successful lawyer in London, Grace is the portrait of the perfect modern housewife. Jack is not only a successful lawyer, but also a champion for battered women. His most successful cases were battered women seeking divorces. From the very first chapter you can sense that something isn't right in their perfect world. Over the course of a intimate dinner party you learn that Jack works so hard to provide a luxurious life for Grace. Grace works hard in the home to prepare near perfect dinners, keeps her figure in tact, and travels the world with her husband. Everyone at the dinner party is so envious of Grace and Jack Angel. Even their surname is a dead giveaway that all is not right in this world.

To really review Behind Closed Doors, I would have to give away so much of the book. This review would be one giant spoiler alert. I don't believe in doing that. Not every wants to know what they are getting into, not everyone wants to know the climax. I don't want to give anything away because you have to read this book. You have to be so taken aback by the chilling and frightening secrets surrounding the marriage of Jack and Grace Angel.

Told both in past and present chapters, it's not until the middle of the book that you find out exactly why these two are together. You find out their motivations for staying married. You find out how helpless a person can be. For the first half of the book, I was so sure that this was a story of hidden identity. Jack protects battered women, some going through a divorce, perhaps Grace was one of those women. And maybe she killed her husband, and now under a different name, she is married to the champion of battered women, and hiding in plain sight...

Oh, how I wish this was the case. How I wish this was the big hidden secret of their marriage.

It was not. The secret is sinister and bone chilling. Your heart and stomach will drop. Your heart will race, and you will be on the edge, mentally screaming at the book.

I'm not usually like this when I read books. I read nice chick lit and sad emo YA novels. I close a book at the happy ending, the happily ever after, the hopeful sunrise. This book was none of those things. Still this book was everything. This book had me in it's grasps until the end. I still can't believe that I read this entire book in one sitting, something I haven't done since college. There was never a moment where I was falling asleep or bored in anyway. Trust me when I say, it was on the edge excitement the entire time. This book was written in a way that there was never a moment that you could walk away from the story. Every chapter ended with a new mystery, a new question to answer. It made for a fantastic read.

Behind Closed Doors has been compared to Gone Girl. I get it, Behind Closed Doors is that good. But it's so different from Gone Girl. Behind Closed Doors brings forth the unbelievable, the shocking, the breathtaking. It's tragic and horrifying. I can't stress enough how this book will blow your mind and chill you to your core.

You will love every minute of it. I promise.

Pick up Behind Closed Doors today from your favorite bookseller.

Behind Closed Doors, published by St. Martin's Press 2016.
This post was sponsored by St. Martin's Press, via an advanced reader copy.

This Summer {2016}

2016-08-01T20:33:00.001-07:00

It's August 1st. There are exactly 21 days left until our first day of school. Twenty-one days. How is that possible? This summer it has all gone way too fast. We are not ready summer! Do not leave us yet!!

A few weeks ago I read this interesting article about what we "should" be doing this summer. I'm pretty sure it was written from a dreamers stand point, like what we should all want to do this summer. Still it left me feeling a little sad. We may not make it to the beach this summer, or to a theme park. There is no way we will walk in a meadow and catch fire flies or climb a mountain top... It just left me thinking. Have I made the most of this summer? The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I have.

This summer I served ice cream for dinner more than once. It's super easy clean up if you use cones. Easier clean up if you go out for ice cream. Plus around Fresno, it's just too damn hot to cook.

This summer I have slept in more than once. Chucking all obligations. I have laid in bed for over an hour, scrolling social media, listening to my kids play, ignoring requests for breakfast. This summer I have skipped my alarm altogether on Sundays, and it felt so right!

This summer I have spent multiple days in pajamas. Letting my girls follow suit. We have eaten snacks from the pantry for meals, and watched Cartoon Network all day. These are the same days that were spent reading in bed. Enjoying a summer best seller with a happy and hopeful ending.

This summer I made lame excuses so I could go to Target alone, after dark. That way I could blast the Red Hot Chili Peppers, that always feel like summer. Throwing on a hat and flip flops just for a few moments alone. To enjoy the school supplies where the Halloween candy soon will live. Taking my time, wandering but never lost.

This summer, the Husband and I were able to watch half a movie, together, uninterrupted. A real movie with bad words and adult content. Which means the kids can't watch it. Which means we get to be adults again.

This summer I took my kids to Starbucks on multiple Sundays. Those Trenta cups make the best water cups, so I made it my mission to get a new on each week. Most Sundays this was the only adventure we went on, spending the rest of the day at home. Maybe there was a baseball game on, or an 80s movie. Maybe we saved our energy and went swimming later in the day. Maybe we did nothing at all, but those Starbucks Sundays will always be my favorite.

This summer I stayed up late, way too late. But the house was so quiet, and no one ever asked for water or goldfish. No one needed me to scratch their back or comb out tangles. It was so quiet that I was able to watch what I wanted to watch on any electronic devise of my choosing. There were no fights or whining about anything in those late hours of the night. It was perfect and just what I needed.

This summer I didn't write as much as I thought I would. I thought about it from time to time, but I was so busy with other things. Maybe that makes it less of a priority, and I'm okay with that for now. I also went days without posting on social media. Not because I made a conscious effort, but because I was in it. In the moments. Forgetting the phone all together. I can't say that it was a bad thing. It was kind of refreshing.

This summer I decided that my kids could be bored. I let them find themselves bored. If not now then when? I want them to experience down time, and what it feels like to be schedule free. So much of there time during the school year is filled with obligation and activity that I really wanted them to know what summer break feels like. So, we were bored. Sometimes we found a new show to binge. Sometimes we colored those cool adult coloring books that takes hours to finish a page. Sometimes we packed it up and went to swim at grandmas. Boredom didn't hurt them one bit, it inspired them to be kids. Kids with some freedom to be bored.

This summer I decided that six in the evening is the perfect time for a good swim. Or a good time to go to Target or the grocery store. It was kind of nice to decide to do something after spending all day doing nothing. It was easy to decide to throw on a hat and find some motivation to do anything. Especially if anything included ice cream or slushies.

This summer I declared that swimming could very much take the pace of a bath. Maybe baths are overrated when all you do is swim. Why wast soap? Chlorine is close enough right?

This summer I woke up in a bed of legs and tangled sheets. Legs that aren't mine. Tangled because we all fell asleep laughing or reading. Tangled because they all crawled into my bed anyway. It's the best and worst way to wake up. Best because those little people love you so much they can't stand to be away from you for even a night. Worst because your legs are asleep, you are sweating from all the body heat, and you really have to pee. This summer I woke up in a tangled bed so many times, it almost seemed comical. Still, there is something so sound and content about waking up in heap, listening to the tiny snores of your children.

This summer I wanted to live the laziest life. I wanted that for my entire family. The school year gets so bogged down with obligation. In just 21 short days we will be back at school, lunches will have to be made, homework to be done, dance classes to rush to. I wanted to enjoy the downtime, take advantage of the days that were free of classes or appointments. We didn't do a single bucket list item. We didn't complete a single suggested summer homework worksheet. I don't feel bad about it. My kids are healthy and happy, tanned and perfumed with chlorine. This summer we said yes to pajama days, yes to nights at the pool, yes to chips and Popsicles for dinner. Because summer never lasts as long as it should.

In twenty one days it's back to reality.

Until then, I'll be enjoying the last few days of this summer.