My Valentine

One of the things that I love about my husband is that, after 10 Valentine's Days together, he still finds ways to surprise me. Now, I am not talking about, "Wow! He hid Michael Buble tickets under my breakfast plate" types of surprises. Those are rather few and far between since the kids entered the picture. I am talking about the ways in which he regularly unveils facets of his personality that I don't expect.

Here's my story:

A couple of years ago, in our old house, I was poking around the cabinet under the sink and found evidence of an intruder. I called my hubby at work and he said he would deal with it when he got home. I was a little confused when he didn't enter the door with a box of mouse poison or a trap, but instead put a small dab of peanut butter on the end of a stick and propped it up against a glass vase under the sink. A fairly simple trap, but no doubt complicated enough that a mouse wouldn't see it coming. Our little friend would be stuck in the vase and we could humanly set him free.

There you have it. My husband, the pacifist. I was touched that he didn't want to take any sort of pent-up aggression out on this poor little defenseless mouse. A lot of people might think it was nothing, but I think that day kick-started a lesson that I have been learning ever since: Kindness is rather undervalued sometimes.

Lately, I have also realized just how long my husband and I will (hopefully) be together. I'm figuring we've got a good (knock on wood) 50 years more to go. That's a lot of pleasant surprises.

One Page At A Time

I haven't always been the most confident in my artistic abilities. Growing up, I always labeled myself as "the academic one" and I relegated art and creating to others. Now, this is not without reason. The best self-portrait I can come up with is still a stick figure.

I am finding, however, that creation is a natural form of self-discovery. And since that's what I'm all about these days, I am finding new and cool ways to actualize.

I started out with memo boards. I am terribly frugal, so when I looked up some on the web to put in my kids' rooms, I was shocked at the sticker price. "I can make that!" I dutifully exclaimed. And I did. A nice little Mom-hobby, I figured.

Then came the cooking. One of the highest forms of artwork. In order to make an exquisite meal (not something that I often achieve), everything has to be timed right. And there are so many variations! You can choose cheap meat or fine. Fresh shallots or dried. Even just choosing a pre-made, frozen entree can open you up to new flavor combinations (I try to see the good in everything). And the gadgets! Those will keep you busy and usually lead to trying out new recipes. I sometimes covent the life of a pastry chef.

My new art is scrapbooking (yes, I called it an art). And it is certainly finding ways to fill up my days. The best thing of all--there is no WRONG way to do it! It is the ultimate confidence booster for supposed un-artists like me. Not to mention it's all about lines and balancing. Just the fresh, crisp cardstock is enough to get me going.

Point is, it's never too late to learn something new. The days are long, but the years are short. What else are you going to do with your time?

Odd One Out

I'm trying to listen a bit more than I talk lately (except to my hubby--he always gets an earfull), so I won't say much, but I do want to share my meditation of the moment:

Don't worry about where you fit in, just carve out your own space.

I think I've spent a lot of my life trying to figure out who I need to be like and which people I belong with, and I've just now started to realize that I don't have to be anything. I can break the mold.

Just wanted to share! Love to know your thoughts on this. Have you always felt this way? Never even contemplated it? Or have you always compared yourself to others as well? I'm so interested as to when other people come to these realizations (I assume for some of my Leo friends this one is a no-brainer). I often wonder if I'm behind the curve-but there I go comparing again.

Goodbye 2009

Wow. I've been a little busy I guess. I have at least been thinking about blog posts though. This blog has been purely selfish lately in that, I mull over what I want to post around 11:00pm at night before I drift off to sleep. I never get around to writing, but at least my thoughts get organized.

I have been thinking a lot about what I want to accomplish in the new year. But first, let's look back at what I learned in 2009:

1. Things cannot bring you happiness (except when they do). Mostly I am referring to my new home. Once I moved in, I was a little disappointed that I didn't suddenly become the perfect person I thought I would be when I got a nicer home. But I soon realized that that sort of change had to come from within. Also, this single material thing (my home) has brought me more joy than I can imagine. The extra room, the nicer amenities, the neighborhood, the layout has all really impacted my life. But I know that this joy is mostly from the appreciation I now have for my home.

2. I have almost no control over anything. This may sound depressing, but it actually is quite freeing.

3. Perception makes up about 90% of life. Attitude is everything.

I'm sure there were many more things, both trivial and ground-breaking, that I learned this year, but those are probably the top three.

Now, for 2010.

I like to make resolutions. Virgos are the masters of self-improvement, therefore making resolutions isn't something I take lightly. I make resolutions monthly (if not weekly sometimes), so it comes rather naturally. My favorite New Year's resolution (or perhaps the only one I can remember) was made the year after Finn was born. I resolved to put more effort into my appearance. I'd spent too many years being embarrassed at myself for leaving the house in sweatshirts, yoga pants and a ponytail. I still get lazy sometimes, but I think back to that resolution and it bulks up my motivation.

However, I am beginning to think that I spend entirely too much time thinking about myself and my short comings. I think it would benefit myself and others if I quite navel-gazing and starting thinking about other people and their problems and what I can do to help them. Therefore my official New Year's Resolution for 2010 is:

Think more about others than myself

That's it. I have some amazing, giving, charitable friends and family whom I can use as mentors. And the thing that I look forward to most in 2010 is spending time with them.

What did you learn in 2009, and what are your resolutions for 2010?

Abracadabra

I am increasingly amazed by what wonderful living conditions (most) humans in the United States live in. At what other time in history could you be perusing the local shops, hear a man cough 20 feet away and instantly put a magic slimy goo on your hands to prevent getting whatever it is that he is spewing? To the Ancients of 500 years ago, liquid hand sanitizer is essentially black magic. You rub your hands together and, voila! you are protected from (once again, most) bacteria and illnesses.

Protein Bars. Oh how I love protein bars! They come with chocolate in them, yet they still aren't considered a candy bar (at least not by me, anyway)! Anywhere you are, just unwrap and enjoy the energy boost. You can pack a hundred and they would probably sustain you up Mt. Everest. It's brilliant. I embrace the day that we all eat little flavorful pills like in The Jetsons. Protein bars will do for now.

It's true that you turn into what you are most afraid of. In my case, that is a person who cannot function until she's had her morning cup of coffee. Most mornings, I find it very tedious to fill up the water, throw out the old grounds and refill with new before pushing the little button and waiting for the pot to fill up. But when I really think about it, the coffeepot is another little bit of magic for our time. How much more grumpy would I be if I had to start a fire, go down to the river for water, and then grind my own beans before enjoying a cup of joe?

Finally, I wonder how ancients got rid of their trash. Did they have trash collection 500 years ago (Bring out your dead!)? And if they did, could it possibly have been any easier than what we enjoy now? Drop the bag in the can, push it to the curb and forget about it. Of course, I only forget about it until I read an article about how much we pollute, but still, pretty darn easy.

There you have it. This Thanksgiving I am thankful for hand sanitizer, protein bars, coffeepots and trash men. And a multitude of other modern magic that makes my life simpler. Thank you.

Just Be

Have you ever tried to meditate?

You sit there, free your mind of all thoughts and "Just Be."

I've always been the type of person that thought I was doing something wrong when I meditate. If I could just lock in on the right mantra, I was sure I could stop all the thoughts whizzing through my head long enough to get to the perfect "Be" state.

Now I realize that it's okay to let your mind wander while meditating; it's supposed to be unstructured play time for your mind. A pure thought-less meditative state is really just icing on the cake. However, it still bugs me. I think the reason I have a deep obsession with sleep isn't because I'm tired, it's because I crave the ability to be out of control of my brain.

I am beginning to think that the concept of "Just Be-ing" is somewhat of a crock for women (or at least women like me). It was very simple as a girl: I believed in the notion that women could grow up, have a fantastic, exciting job and successfully raise a loving, close-knit family. And I know that many women can both. However, I am beginning to think that they are the exception and not the rule.

This may sound cynical, but it's not. I think that either choice can be very fulfilling and I am happy with the choices I've made. But every so often I peek over that fence, check out how green the grass is, and think, "What would it be like if every day weren't filled with cooking, cleaning, and disposing of other people's feces?" (I'm sorry, I know I reference feces way too much, but it really has become a large part of my day)

A major part of life is accepting the things you cannot change. And I am now accepting that if I want that lovely, close-knit family that I dream of, I have to do some dirty work. That is just the mother's job. Cook, maid, chauffeur, tantrum-tamer, and fecal-waste collector are all just a part of my job description. In order to let everyone else in the house "Just Be," I (and also my husband, who probably does a lot more housework that I should be letting him) have to take on the taskwork.

And maybe some day, when my minions can do these things for themselves (okay, probably not until they move out altogether), I can get my turn to "Be."

The Magic of Wonder

Today, I introduced my son to The Wizard of Oz. I began by getting him hooked on "Follow the Yellow Brick Road." Once that was firmly stuck in his head (and he had done his rendition for all the fellow consumers at the quick oil change place), we came home to watch the DVD.

I cried. I cried when Miss Gulch tried to take away Toto. I cried when Dorothy was stuck in the tornado (and what? They couldn't hear here banging on the darn shelter door?). I cried when the Munchkins set her off down the yellow brick road. I cried at just what a great actress Margaret Hamilton was.

Nostalgia and joy combine to create a certain force, that, when it hits you, all you can do is cry. I answered F's non-stop questions about the movie between great gulping sobs. Thank goodness my daughter was sleeping! If she had been at all delighted while Dorothy danced around, I'm sure my happiness sensors would have burst and I might possibly have gone on a marathon movie-watching schedule of Oz, Mamma Mia, and White Christmas for the next week. I would have been discovered as a sobbing wreak who could only mouth showtunes.

What is it about sharing something from our childhood with our offspring that makes us so joyful? My theory is that, while a bad mood spreads quickly (misery loves company and all that), so does a great one. Evoking the warm fuzzies through movie nostalgia brings about a truly great mood in me. Perhaps some of the best I've been in (Rosemary Clooney is my official therapist). It's one of the best ways for me to show my kids my happiness. And after seeing a million tiny Storm Troopers this Halloween, I think I'm not the only one.

What are some of your favorite movies or music that you like to share with your kids?