I wrote this poem when I was pregnant with my youngest in 2014.
Baby Boy you are so small
You growing fast and all
Starting to kick my belly here
I like having you oh so near
It won't be long before my belly grows
Protruding out watermelon size, Oh!
I try to keep from eating too much
My biggest meal is always lunch
I feel you move in the afternoon
Or when I lay down at night to snooze
Soon you will be here, it will go fast
Your kicking me from inside, a thing of the past
Every woman needs a full-length mirror in their home don’t they? I have been living without one since I moved into my house four years ago. Recently I went to Target, picked out a mirror and installed it as soon as I could remove the shrink-wrap. It looked great on the wall. I could not have been more pleased.
A few days later I decided to test the mirror to see how my shoes looked with my dress. As I looked into the mirror, I did not have to ask,”Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all.” I knew it was not me. I was supposed to be looking at my shoes, but I couldn’t take my eyes off something else. It was my width! Why did I suddenly look so…large? Had I gained weight in the last few days? Why did my cheeks look so fat? Something was not right. I could feel it. I walked into the other room and looked in the bathroom mirror. As I suspected, I looked thinner. To me it was actually ‘normal’. Strange.
I returned to the full-length mirror. Yup, just as I thought, I looked 20 or 40 pounds heavier. This was worse than being on television! I had the misfortune of having installed what I can only refer to as a ‘fun house mirror’. It was like the mirrors they have at the amusement park where you look at yourself and you look really tall or really wide? I now have a fun-house mirror to look at myself every day!
As I dress for an evening out, I can only use the mirror to verify my clothes and shoes match because how I ‘look’ cannot be taken seriously. The mirror is definitely more ‘fun’, than functional, but better to label the mirror ‘fun’ than to be hung up on the way the mirror made me look. Life isn’t supposed to be about how we look on the outside, but how we feel on the inside. I guess as long as my shoes match my dress, I am satisfied with how I look no matter what mirror I am looking in.
What is it about cleaning that women hate so much? I mean those yellow rubber gloves are hideous, so there is a total lack of good fashion sense (my 4-year-old daughter would say this, not me). Cleaning is one of those annoying items on my task list that is never really ‘done’. By the time I finish getting one part of the house clean, another part is already dirty.
So what is a girl to do? How can this horrible chore be made….I was go to say pleasurable? What about exciting? No, definitely not! How about tolerable? I just want the bathroom clean. If I could afford a maid I would hire one. I have heard other women comment that they would be willing to go out and work another job just so they would have enough money to pay for a cleaning lady. (I am assuming they don’t want to go out and get a job as a housekeeper.)
How can I make this miserable tasks go by quicker? Is there any way to make it fun? Or at a minimum less drudgery? The answer is a cleaning buddy. Someone who comes and hangs out with you – talks, jokes, gossips, and laughs with you while you clean. Think how fast a run goes when you run with someone? Why can’t it work for cleaning too?
What is a cleaning buddy and what do they do? Well, you as the cleaner need to pull a chair into your bathroom, hand your cleaning buddy a cup of coffee or a glass of wine and then start cleaning away. You thought an IPOD helped you cleaned faster! This is amazing. Although to be totally honest, I am not sure if it goes by quicker, or if it seems like fun therefor you don’t really care how much time it takes. Did I just say that cleaning the bathroom was ‘fun’?
I arrived at my hotel this evening after a day of traveling and meetings and I was starving. For breakfast I had eaten a bowl of yogurt. At the airport I drank a Cafe Mocha and for my lunch (if you can call it that) I ate a granola bar. I was starving and I wanted something to eat quickly. I also didn’t feel like sitting in a restaurant (alone) to eat. I was first thinking Cheesecake Factory (for the obvious desert reasons), but it didn’t quite fit my need to avoid dining alone or the desire for immediate satisfaction.
Another option for dinner was a Schlotzky’s Deli down the street. The sandwiches are yummy and I could get take-out! Best of all, I could sit comfortably in front of the TV in my hotel room while I ate. I can’t believe my desire to sit comfortably in front of the television while I ate was such a significant factor in my decision making process. If I wanted TV while I ate, I should have just gone to a sports bar. If I was a guy, a sports bar would have made a lot of sense. Unfortunately there isn’t a “Lifetime” bar or a “Sex in the City” bar.
I opted for Schlotzky’s and ordered my turkey and guacamole sandwich, jalapeno chips, root beer and chocolate chip cookie. It was all that I thought it could be. Best of all I didn’t have to do the dishes! Who knew that eating out on a business trip could be so satisfying even without going to the Cheesecake Factory.
I went to a Power yoga class at my gym today. Am I still allowed to call it a ‘gym’ or should I be saying ‘health club’ or ‘fitness club’. When I say gym it seems to be out of some antiquated habit I cannot break. I used to be a member of Gold’s Gym (even though I only took aerobics classes there). I feel like I date myself saying gym. Then again, maybe I date myself saying aerobics. I wasn’t sure if it was dated or regional. Sort of like saying pocketbook instead of purse.
I hadn’t been to a yoga class in about 4 years. I recall taking a class after Paige was born and I was in complete misery because in the class you were supposed to use your ‘core’ and my ‘core’ had just spent 9 months being stretched and was like an old rubber band; it wasn’t snapping back very quickly. So today after a multi-year hiatus from yoga, I re-entered the yoga world. First fatal error was that I didn’t have a yoga mat. I figured it was a gym (sorry, fitness club) they must have yoga mats? I actually lucked out because there were 2 yoga mats available (and I got one!). Clearly I was an oddity because everyone else had their own mats.
I knew the class might be a little hard (it was listed as intermediate), but I figured I run 2-3 times a week – it couldn’t be that hard! Well, I learned it was ‘that hard’. I felt like there were muscles that hadn’t been used in decades; although surely it couldn’t have been that long. Could it? I was lucky that I remembered most of the poses the instructor was doing – it was just a challenge keeping up. I didn’t know calling on these dusty and rusty muscle groups was going to make me so out of breath. One thing was for sure; I got my workout for the day. (Before the class I was worried it might not be strenuous enough for me.) My friends who are ‘yoga junkies’ are laughing at me now. I can hear it.
My favorite part of the class was the relaxation at the end. I could forget about all my worries (including the torture I had just experienced for the last hour). I actually really liked the class because it made me focus on my body as I made it move into all these crazy poses (I tried to get it to move, not always successful though). All I could think about was connecting my mind to my body. Everything else from the day seemed to fall away. I think I gained some much-needed patience that lasted through dinner and the usual evening routine with the kids. If my body could stand it, I could do that class every day and be a lot more mentally grounded. I probably won’t make it back tomorrow (since I may not be able to get out of bed) but I did promise the instructor that I would be back. Maybe I said that through the mind fog I experienced after the relaxation portion of the class. I am sure my post class yoga high will wear off tomorrow. Then I can decide if I am ready for another workout, or should I say yoga practice?
Today was Mother’s Day and I was awoken by an aroma that wafted into the bedroom. The smell reminded me of my favorite breakfast restaurant. Next, there in my bedroom was Tucker declaring, “Your brunch is ready!”. ‘Daddy’ and Paige stood behind silently with huge grins across their faces. My eyes could barely open beyond slits, but I could see the enormous smiles. Apparently they were very proud of the brunch they were about to serve me.
I peeled myself out of bed and took a look in the mirror to make sure my hair didn’t look too scary. I followed the kids and ‘daddy’ into the kitchen to see a perfect place-setting just for me. A glass of juice with ice, a cup of coffee, a brunch menu, and a perfectly folded napkin. The napkin could only be the work of Tucker, ‘master place setter’. Surrounding my place setting were cards – mostly handmade from the kids. They were wonderful. The interpretations the kids had of how ‘mommy’ looked was amazing. I never knew my arms came out of my ears like that? Or that my lips were quite that red! At least it seemed as if they liked me (and my looks) enough to make me this nice breakfast and beautiful cards.
After perusing the cards, including one store-bought card from ‘daddy’, everyone got hugs and kisses from ‘mommy’. Maybe this had been their plan all along – bribe me put me in good mood so they could get extra hugs and kisses today. Either way, I think we all came out winners. Next what was placed in front of me was a beautiful egg and cheese omelet and toast with strawberry jam. It was delicious. I was wondering if it tasted so good because I didn’t have to cook it or because ‘daddy’ really was a better cook than me. It is nice to know your family cares about you, especially on Mother’s day. I can only hope the kids are this nice to me for the rest of the day. I can hope can’t I?
I just finished reading my first Janet Evanovich book called “The Rocky Road to Romance”. I am not sure what I expected, but I may have been expecting more than I got. Funny how you have certain ideas about books before you read them. I was expecting mystery, wit and intrigue with some romance. I guess I was expecting more mystery and intrigue and less romance. Then again, I really should have paid more attention to the title.
Maybe my idea of romance – love that grows over months or years, or develop a deep personal connection, are too much to ask from a 200 page book with large font. Do women really want to escape real life like this? I can see now why many women are lulled into the belief that Prince Charming is going to come along and sweep them off their feet. Sweep me off my feet? Can he just sweep the kitchen floor? As for this book it seems to follow the Cinderella theme. Since it can’t be Prince Charming to ‘save us’, why not an oil tycoon who manages a radio station?
The ‘Cinderella’ of this story did not have an evil stepmother, however Daisy (the leading lady here) was over-worked and under-paid. However this situation seemed to have been self-imposed (or doesn’t everyone volunteer as a crossing guard after we deliver the morning papers and before we head off to the radio station for our ‘real job’). As I just wrote that last bit I felt more like Daisy that I realized. I am a freak of nature burning the candle at both ends on a regular basis; Writing blogs, making jewelry, and reading books in between making dinner and listening to my 7-year-old reading his homework. I also can make breakfast, fold laundry and get the kids dressed for school…all at the same time. If squeezing all the things I love to do into a day doesn’t work (I am the master of multi-tasking) I stay up until midnight doing this thing that I love called writing. Maybe this stuff is more like real life than I thought?
I do have a Prince Charming, however he isn’t sweeping my floor, protecting me from killers, or lending me his cool horse to ride (or car to drive). Instead he is fast asleep already. It is only 11:30 PM why does he have to go to bed so early? I wonder for a moment, am I Daisy (a.k.a Cinderella)? Probably, but books are fantasy and real life is, well, lacking perfection. I don’t expect perfection, but it would be nice to escape to it once in a while. I guess that is why novels like the one I just read are so popular. No one wants to read about a ‘regular guy’ do they?
A gentle wind is blowing my hair around just enough so that it is tickling my face. It feels good to have fresh color and a clean haircut. For some reason my hair seems more bouncy. It is also nice to have covered up those nasty gray hairs that started to peek out. Funny how we pay hairdressers to make our hair look natural or should I say ‘naturalish’. Today my hair color turned out a nice brown with a hint of red that you can only really see in the bright sunlight. It isn’t a “Carrot Top” kind of red, but a nice auburn or burnt ember kind of red. I always wonder who gets their hair purple – because I saw that option in the ‘color’ book.
I was thinking about the weight of my hair. Somehow gravity is non-existent in the salon, because my hair truly defies gravity – at least until I walk out the front door. If I am lucky my hair will keep its bounce and fresh-cut look for about 24 hours. Will it stay like this if I don’t sleep on it? Should I just sleep in a chair tonight so that I don’t mess up my hair? Then I could show it off for work tomorrow. Hmmm… maybe not, because I would still have to figure out how to take a shower without getting it wet (like wear one of those crazy shower caps?). Does anyone under 70 or maybe 80 even wear a shower cap anymore? I certainly don’t own a shower cap. Honestly. I have seen them in hotels before. I have to ask…who still uses them?.
I guess I will just have to wash my hair tomorrow and let nature take its course with my hair (even though it feels more like revenge). I live in the driest climate (Arizona) which results in lack of curls, but it also isn’t good for body (this is why it seems to look flat all the time). Oregon seemed to yield ‘curly everywhere’ hair, reminiscent of a clown. Luckily I kept my hair pretty long when I lived there, otherwise I really would have looked like a clown. The wind seems to be picking up, but since the sky is dark (it is night-time) I cannot tell if the wind is friendly (clear skies?) or evil (rainstorm or dust storm?). If friendly, then I will be able to sit outside on the patio for a while longer. You just never know what the wind will blow your way. I was hoping the weekend would blow my way, until I realized today was only Wednesday. I think sadly,”By the weekend I will have completely lost the ‘new haircut’ feeling.” Another breeze pushes strands of hair against my face. I close my eyes and enjoy the tickling of my face while I still can.
I am sitting outside on the patio enjoying the warmth of the morning Arizona sun. For some reason the morning sun is warm vs. the afternoon sun which is scorching. I stare at the cactus sitting in front of me. It is so small and fragile. Just a tiny seedling found in the yard, now in its safe home in a miniature pot. I just watered it, although I wondered if that was even necessary. I mean it is a cactus? How much watering does it need?
The water absorbed into the soil, but I can see a few tiny water droplets clinging to the smooth surface of the cactus (not the spines!). The sun is shining on the cactus in such a way that it glistens. It makes me think of a child being nurtured and protected by a parent. The plant is glistening, shining and is so beautiful. I don’t want to do anything to interfere with its inherent beauty in its natural state.
Our children have that inherent beauty too, so why can’t we just let them be. See the beauty, enjoy the moment, and savor it, instead of stepping in and thinking we can fix them or make them better. What children (and plants) need sometimes is just to be admired for who or what they are. They really can be amazing and grow without us.