Entries Tagged 'Self-analysis' ↓

I loathe my baby belly.

And all the mother’s out there who have given birth to their children know exactly what I mean. It’s that tire of flabbed out muscle and mushy fat left over from carrying watermelon sized babies around in your abdomen. And even after you’ve breastfed both children (hoping they suck off the extra pounds), even after you patiently wait out the old mantra “9 months in, 9 months out”, even after everything else seems to have gone back to where it was… (eh… pretty much… good enough at least… if you squint with one eye… after your contacts are out) - that baby belly stays right with me like some trusty sidekick. It just won’t quit. It’s as if your abdomen is thinking “Hey, hanging out here in the wind really ain’t so bad after all. If it works for Homer Simpson, it works for me.” And you are left avoiding the empire waisted shirts or anything remotely maternity-ish for fear that if you wander too close to a Babies R Us, you’ll hear a squealed “ooooh, when are you due???” I’m not exaggerating either. It’s happened to me.

So I really loathe my baby belly. And I swear to you. I am not getting all vain here either. Honestly. I am not all into losing weight or getting some hard, Linda Hamilton type of bod. No way, being stacked like that just doesn’t get me that fired up. My body is my body, take it or leave it. All I reeeeally want to do is wear jeans WITHOUT the muffin top - do you catch what I’m saying?

So back to that damned baby belly. I want it gone. And how do I do that? Hold on to your hats folks, its a totally crazy concept for me. Here it comes… Exercise.

BOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Hiiiisssssssss…. virtual rotten tomatoes are being lobbed at such a concept.

But, heres the thing. Or irony of it all. I have a college coach for a husband. And he majored in – of all things - P.E. (For real, he did. Side bar I know, but he actually took college classes in badminton and ballroom dancing and teaching kids how to play kickball. And he ALSO took a lot of nutrition and physiology classes. Hence my perfect resource.) It’s crazy really. I had to marry a guy who is so damn physically gifted - athletics, sports, and physical fitness come as naturally as breathing for him. So, yeah, he certainly knows what it takes to get my flabby midsection back in the saddle again. I have an expert living right along next to me.

But can I also mention WHY I love my husband dearly? Because he NEVER, and I mean NEVER, has suggested I work on my belly by the way. He could care less if I do. He loves me as is. But when I ask questions, he is happy to provide information. Score for me.

So. Finally. I asked that husband of mine what I need to do to get my baby belly to bugger off. And he said two things. Aerobic exercise and toning my ab muscles.

(And then there is a third. Eat better. Whatever. Pass the Halloween candy.)

Huh. Now lets back the truck up a bit here. I hate exercise. (Hence those lobbed tomatoes.) I was the dorky, awkwardly tall, uncoordinated kid in bad glasses who dreaded P.E. I have not one ounce of competitiveness in me. And so when a soccer ball hit me square in the face at age 6 and my glasses went flying – I cashed it in. I mean, ow. That hurt. I could care less which net the ball got into. Exercise, sports, getting all sweaty = NOT. FOR. ME.

Well, at the ripe age of 35 and after having two large boys, exercise is no longer optional. If I don’t want to look like a potato with toothpicks sticking out of it, I better get off my ass. (Note: yeah, yeah, I am sure I am exaggerating. While I may not look exactly like said potato, I feel like said potato – and THAT, my friends, is JUST as bad in my book.)

And let’s not forget that studies have proven that exercise lowers a woman’s risk of breast cancer – which my mother has had. And weight bearing exercise will build my bones now and help me avoid osteoporosis – which my mother has. It’s time to get out the door and get it done.

So after all this whining about my baby belly, what have I started doing about it? How do I get to work on kicking its ass when I have a coach husband who never works regular hours like 9 to 5 and is often gone weekends? When I don’t have the extra cash to join the Y (with the baby sitting included)? When I don’t have any fancy stair master in some personal gym in the basement? How do I commit to cardio and toning? This is what I do.

1) Do I have a half hour? Yup. All I ask myself is to spend a half hour of my day doing something that raises my heart rate above “yawn, stretch, thump, wassup, oh yeah right, thump“.

2) If I am by myself, I get out the door and walk. Fast. With music. Walk, walk, walk.

3) If I am by myself, can I dare myself to run, just a little bit? Yup. It sucks, but I get done faster.

4) If I have the kids, can I drag or push them in any way? I don’t have a jogging stroller but pushing a heavy sit-n-stand or pulling 75 pounds of children in wagon has gotta give me some kind of work out.

5) Can’t leave the house? Out comes my jump rope in front of the TV

6) Ab time? Groan. I ask myself to do 80 sit ups, 20 jack knifes and some minimal core work. That’s it.

So its not much, right? But its more than what I was doing. A LOT more. And the funny part is that its actually becoming addicting. I can’t wait to get out and do it – even if it SUCKS while I’m doing it. But I will do whatever I can to get out there.

This is all so UN-me, I am telling you. Like today, me, dragging that wagon full of my kids. Even trying to run while pulling it. I swear I must have looked like I was in The Worlds Strongest Man (Or World’s Lamest Mom) competition. You know, when they are pulling a car behind them? That was me and that wagon trying to run but really barely getting anywhere. It kicked my ass, I am telling you. And probably offered my neighbors some comedy in their day.

But I’m doing it. I’m trying.

Do I see any difference? Nope, not yet. No idea if I’m losing weight because I don’t care about that (I don’t even own a scale, I think they’re evil). I still have my tried and true muffin top rockin out of my jean top. But I remind myself that it can’t happen over night. (Not with that lovely, delish bowl of Halloween candy sitting right here besides me as I type this. Oh no.)

But I’m doing it. I’m trying.

I used to care about other stuff. I used to talk about topics other than the election. I used to go days – even weeks - without thinking too hard about my political values or hopes for the future of our country. But not anymore. This election has taken over my life, I tell you. I am feeling some serious political burn out. And how exactly has this happened? Let me share with you some examples. And then we are going to figure out a way for all of us to focus on something other than the election, even for a short while.

On a debate night, I almost always dream about the candidates. Usually, they are in some stressful predicament; once Obama and I weren’t able to find a voting booth on November 4th. And those dreams are exactly what I deserve for staying up well after the candidates have left the stage, watching all of the post-game pundit chatter late into the evening. In fact, my husband and I both toss and turn – there is rarely much hope for a fresh start the next morning.

Once awake, we face the computer or morning news. The pundits are still there: rehashing, replaying and repeating everything my nightmares were about. And I dread opening that full inbox listing political updates and reminders. Did you know Joe Biden is speaking in your town today? What are YOU doing to help win this election? Could you donate even $5 to make change happen? It’s barely 8:00am, and I already feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I usually find some comfort in a bowl of cheerios while I stare at Handy Manny on the Disney Channel. Of course, the next thought that pops into my mind is: Handy Manny could use a President like Obama who will stand up for middle class folks and small businesses. I mean, what if Manny can’t get the loan he needs to keep himself and all those tools employed? These are hardly lucid thoughts. My lack of sleep is apparent once again.

And even the stilted conversations at the playground have to work very hard to avoid the topic of politics. We all try but… really, what else is there to talk about? The Red Sox? Yeah, that’s good. My son’s math quiz? Eh, ok. “Did you hear that Obama and Brad Pitt are related?” “No way!” Red alert, politics approaching. ”Did anyone see SNL?” Ok, here we go. I give up.

And have you tried to get a cup of coffee at 7-eleven recently? There is no escape there either. You can pick your own Obama or McCain coffee cup and declare your vote to the world. All of those Joe and Jane Six-packs, familiar after standing in the same convenience store line every morning, are suddenly having to “out” themselves politically. Will it get weird for them now? Will there be a throw down?

I am hardly the only one suffering from the tension of this election. While I have had some positive experiences with my Obama paraphernalia recently (“I love your t-shirt!”, “I love your car!”, smiles, waves, “woo-hoo”s) – other friends have experienced the opposite. And the spray painted “X” through the only Obama sign I’ve seen sent me into a woeful, angry tailspin this afternoon. It seems as if our nation is slowly fading into two shades of citizen right now: blue or red. A line is being drawn down the middle of our lives – a line I can’t seem avoid no matter how hard I try.

So help me out. How do we take a mental break from this election and spiraling economy? Certainly, we can not afford to give up on it all together - but what are some ways to regain our strength? How can we wake up with a fresh perspective, re-energized and ready for November 4th? Here are some of my suggestions that I will swear to try – simply for my own sanity:

• Exercise. Lots of it. And don’t play any Ani DiFranco on the Ipod either.
• Play with your children outside: the grass, the kids, the birds, the sidewalk chalk, the bicycles are all bi-partisan, I promise.
• No news after 8pm. Say “No” to Keith Olbermann (which is hard for me) but say a heartfelt “YES!” to Project Runway.
• Turn off the computer at night. (Even I am muttering out loud here,”You’re kidding, right?”)
• Read a book. Something brilliant, funny and distracting. Perhaps something by Jennifer Weiner?
• Take up a craft. I actually did some painting recently. Not good painting, but it was distracting.
• While sitting criss-cross applesauce on a yoga mat with a candle burning and your eyes closed, repeat to yourself: “Everything will be ok…” until you actually believe it.

In the midst of all of this political and economic stress, what are your ways to remain calm? Or even better, how do you simply sane? Please share. I desperately need some help. We all do!

Cross posted at Type A Moms.

I have been participating in the 29 Day Giving Challenge for 11 days now and here I am to report back about my experience. So how have I been doing with it? Honestly, it’s been a great part of my daily life so far.

What have I given? Well, it depends. Here are some examples:

• Babysitting for neighbors
• Small donations to the Houston Red Cross
• A surprise ice cream cone for my son after school
• Helping a friend with her resume
• Making muffins for my playgroup
• Doing work for my son’s teacher
• Offering my friendship to that mom I always see and never introduce myself to

The list goes on. And it’s small things too. Not just getting glasses of milk for just my kids, but all the kids in the room. Making sure my husband can get a morning or two to sleep in as much as possible. Letting someone else have that parking space, I can walk a few more steps. For me, its been so much about remembering not to be the opportunist all the time, watching only my back, looking out for only myself. I get exactly what I need without butting to the front of the line every time and grabbing what I need.

Also, when I began this challenge, I was sort of hard on myself. I thought I would have to come up with things I wouldn’t normally do, and really go out of my way. But then I stood back and reminded myself about the spirit of this challenge. We have to just remember to give, in any way that we know how. It’s about being in the habit of giving and thinking of others. And I surprised myself when I realized how much giving I normally do anyway. But now I am keeping track of it all and just making sure something happens everyday. It really feels good and I have kind of become obsessive about it. In fact, friends joke “Oh! that can be one of your giving things!” If they haven’t joined themselves, they are having fun watching me participate.

Just one other note. Being a mother is entirely about giving. To work yourself up to a challenge like this as a mother can be hard. After spending your entire day caring for and giving to someone else, to think about giving even further is exhausting. I think we all crave time to be selfish and give to ourselves. But I would also challenge ourselves to reach beyond that level of giving we are already competent at. We can stretch ourselves to give just that small bit more, it is always possible.

And I would also argue that we mothers forget to give to ourselves a lot. In fact, taking care of yourself might be one of your lower priorities. Whose to say that you shouldn’t try giving to yourself on one day if you never ever take the chance to do that? It’s just a thought.

Finally, for the 29 Giving Challenge team to reach their goal of 2,000 members participating in the challenge by September 29th, they simply need 270 more “givers”. If you haven’t joined, consider it. It’s a fascinating journey to be on and satisfying to realise how much giving we do and can incorporate in our lives.

Have a wonderful weekend.

As you all know, my friend’s story of charity was very inspiring for me. I was truly moved. And then, after reading my post, my blogger friend Mary from Everyday Baby Steps shared the link for the 29 Day Giving Challenge in her comment. I took a look. Wow. If I was ever inspired to get on board with a cause such as this one, it would be now.

Here’s the deal. For 29 days, I need to give something to someone every day. It does not need to be something of great value. It can be support, a hug, a favor, moving someones garbage cans off the road, spending more time with your children than you normally would, and on it goes. What is important here is the spirit of the gift and how it changes your own outlook on life.

Is this challenge starting to peak your interest? Then, go to the website, watch the video and really absorb what this is all about.

And I have to be honest, I was a little intimidated by this challenge. First of all, we aren’t exactly rolling in it these days. I am holding on to every tiny bit I have to get by. So what do I have to give? What could little ol’ me possibly give? Money is easy, but I don’t really have money to give. So I need to be creative. I need to *think* about what I can do to bring a little positivity into someones life – every day. FOR 29 DAYS. Egad.

All day yesterday, I hemmed and hawed about whether I could really do this. Am I selfless enough to be that thoughtful? Everyday? Am I even that nice?

Aw, c’mon Caroline. Buck up, you can do a little something more everyday for someone.

And you know what else I really like about this whole challenge? Its all about fostering good karma. Yeah, bring on good karma, I love that stuff. 

So, ok then. I’m in.

Now first of all, I want to be sure I do something I wasn’t planning on doing anyway. For instance, I can’t say giving my children dinner would count. As awesome as I think I am for toiling over that stove (er, microwave) - for me, that act of “charity” doesn’t really count (not that my kids would agree carrot sticks are exactly charity anyway).

Hmmm. So what am I going to give today? Yikes, I don’t know. We’ll see how the day unfolds. But you can be sure I will let you know. I am going to keep track of what I do everyday and then check in here once a week and give you a quick summary of how I am doing.

So. How about it? Yup, now I am looking at you. Are you in? Are you up for the 29 day challenge? If you are in, let me know! I need a “Giving Posse” of sorts. So come along for the ride and join the cause. And be sure to share your ideas! I still need to come up with something for today, for cripes sakes…

Happy Giving!

Folks, here’s the truth. I really need to get better at this blogging thing. And I absolutely don’t mean that in a “Wah, I suck, I’m needy, I need attention, someone tell me I’m a good blogger before my whining makes you jump off your roof” kind of way.

I don’t mean it like that. Ew.

But I have to be honest here. Blogging is -fer real - something I just need to get better at. Sure, sure, I confidently spout off here about all sorts of horse pucky, sounding like I really know what I am talking about. But… actually… blogging has me a wee bit flummoxed. (Oooh now *that’s* a fun word.) And I am going to “out” myself about this right here, right now.

First of all, I take forever to post. Huge groan. I so annoy myself over this. Usually the first draft of my post writes itself, for the most part. Which is why I love to blog, because it just comes rushing out - typing diarrhea – and *yay* you all get to read it.

So writing really isn’t the problem.

It’s my self imposed over-editing which is to blame. GAH.

Its the obsessing, the going back and forth over one word, it’s the “let me just see how this reads ONE more time” thing. While I may have whipped out the initial post in 10 minutes, the editing can sometimes take hours.

This will not do.

I am a mother. I have kids to shuttle around. I have fights to break up. Homework to help with. And really reeeally fun trips to the grocery store with two miserable, grocery hating children. I even have a husband who kinda likes to talk to me at night. I was almost late to kindergarten pick-up once because I could not finally just press publish and rip myself away. Tinker, tinker, tinker.

Enough already! Grow some ovaries and publish the flipping post already, SHEESH!!!!

So, yup, I need to get faster about my posting.

And if I post faster, maybe I could think to post more often! Because my next issue is that I just don’t post enough. I really could and should write more. But when I DO write, I think too much, go on for too long, edit forever (see above) and – gasp – completely exhaust and highly annoy myself.

And when I think too much, go on and on and wind up with posts that are far too long, what does that tell me?

Am I… am I… not… editing enough?!??

OH NO! Not more editing, for the love of all that’s good in the blogosphere. NO. MORE. EDITING.

Can we talk about my blog layout itself? I am so clueless (“how clueless are you?” …you yell from your PC). I am so clueless, that I actually don’t really understand such things as “Adsense” or “self-hosting”. I mean, what the hell is a trackback? I don’t know how to Digg anyone. I am signed up for technorati but what does it exactly mean?

Seriously. The bloggy techie stuff? (Shrug my shoulders.) Whatever. I got NO idea.

I write, I stick a picture or video in now and then, maybe I can copy or paste some fancy html code I found somewhere. But that’s about all I got.

All potential for slick blogging with cool branding seems lost. Or at least far far out of my reach.

I’m hopeless. Far from cool. Not very legit as a blogger I think.

But ah-ha. Here lies the crux of the problem. (Crux. What does that even MEAN and how the hell do you spell it? …Hopefully my editing will take care of that. Snort.)

Fast, good, frequent posting seems all about confidence.

I mean, to just write your mind and then - all cool and relaxed - press publish without one thought… well, you need to feel really solid about yourself as a blogger. And that, my friends, takes time. And practice. And the careful careful art of remaining true to who you are when you post. Bloggers must be: what you read is what you get.

My theory (oh, soooo scientific aren’t we) is that if we bloggers are true to ourselves, feel confident that our posts are, in fact, of value, and know we have amazing blogger buddies out there who have our backs – we should find that confidence to press publish. Just like that. Just like this…

Vivian, of Liberal Life for the Navy Wife, posted on Momocrats a couple days ago. The subject? Christianity and Liberalism. A good conversation took place in the comments following and I briefly jumped in there myself to talk a bit about my issues (Sigh, why do I always make it about me? I’ll save that for another soul searching post). She so graciously replied and was very helpful – thanks again Vivian! But her post has lead to further discussions with my husband, deep thoughts in the shower and considerable mumbling to myself that now must spill out onto this blog. So, once again folks, here’s a little window into my current state of thinking.

Religion is an extremely personal issue. And because it is something based on faith- logic or rational thinking don’t always apply. I wouldn’t know where to begin to comment about the influence it’s had on the history of humankind, the making and breaking of nations or how it has inspired both violent wars and beautful acts of humanity. To say that it plays a part in modern day politics is an understatement to say the least.

Meanwhile, little ol’ me, landed on this planet 35 years ago. I was raised Protestant, attended a Catholic elementary and middle school and had the opportunity to live in two seperate Muslim countries for 5 of my developmental years. I love the Christian traditions of Christmas and Easter, I appreciate the beauty and ritual of Catholic mass and I find comfort when I hear the Muslim call to prayer.

Little ol’ me also seemed born to be a democrat, wearing a Mondale pin in 6th grade at Catholic school; my republican father was at a loss.

I consider myself both a spiritual person and a political person. I believe in God and have a fairly liberal value system. I totally think Jesus was a cool guy - the original hippie - bringing love, acceptance and really impressive miracles to anyone ready to listen. But Buddha seemed like an amazing guy too, and Mohammad. And so, in my own little way, I do unto others, try not to covet and love my neighbor, rich, poor, gay, Yankee fan, Red Sox fan (go sox), whatevs.

But here’s the problem for me. As a spiritual person, I think I should be able to find a place to worship God in my own right. And even more importantly, as my husband and I watch our children grow up,  we want our two little boys to grasp the concept of religion, hear the stories of the bible and have a solid understanding about morality. But as an open-minded, liberal, Obama voting, (technically) Christian woman living in Florida, I can’t find a church to worship in to save my life (so to speak).

There are plenty of Catholic churches – tried and true, with unchanged traditions carried on for generations. But not for me.

There are endless protestant based churches, teaching the bible as literal truth with members eager to save my soul. Not for me.

And here’s the thing. If a liberal minded mommy like me were to drive into the parking lot of the majority of churches in these parts with my Obama, HRC and peace stickers trailing behind me on the bumper of my car… would I be tagged as a lost soul? A heathen?

Oh man. But, how come? Because I am pro-choice? Is it because I think Obama is the man? Am I going to hell because I think there should be women priests and homosexual couples should be allowed to marry? I just get this feeling, this little inkling, that I wouldn’t quite fit in. And I am quite sure I wouldn’t want to.

Please understand, I respect any person’s choice to worship as they may. Go for it, enjoy God the best way you see fit. I just bristle when my liberal values translate to others that I am NOT fit to worship and that God has no place in my life. There seems to be a lot of judging going on in church, and its not happening from the Man (or Woman) upstairs either.

Because here’s the thing, I have never felt more in tune with God in my life. I find true comfort in my beliefs that ALL people are equal. I feel right at home when a community is inclusive of all ideals and lifestyles. I think it makes a lot of sense to God that we pray for a peaceful end to this war. Having “green” values is a way to honor our planet. Come on now, I have a right to God as much as anyone else does. 

So why am I having a problem finding a church? I honestly think politics has taken the organized Christian churches away from a lot of families like ours. Right or wrong, Christians have been recently deemed as right-winged, republican, conservative folk. Nothing like me at all. When people say “Jesus Saves”, I have to wonder if there is an asterisks by it saying “as LONG as you follow OUR very specific, kind of exclusive rules”.  C’mon, I am pretty sure Jesus is cool with everyone, I mean EVERYONE. Even me.

So here my family sits, homeless and in need of a place to worship. I am tired of not knowing how to explain religion to my children. I fumble around with the birth story of Jesus at Christmas time. I don’t even GO there with his death around Easter - I just keep it to bunnies and purdy eggs. We don’t even have a bible in our home. I mean, this is rediculous! If we want to be liberal Christians, why can’t we?

Now I know, if I search hard and long, I will find something. Vivian even told me about Unity Churches and, wouldn’t you know it, there is one not far from here! I am tentatively looking into it. Unitarian churches are other good options, but there aren’t many around here. My good friend who recently moved back east, used to attend Glide Church in San Francisco and found an extraordinary community there. I told her to send a mission to Florida.

This topic has been a tough one for me. Like I said, Religion is so damn personal. I worry about offending. I worry about making generalizations. I worry about judging others unfairly while I have no right to. I worry I don’t know a damn thing about this topic and should really educate myself more. I worry I have accepted the assumption that Christianity is only for the conservative - and have given up too easily. I worry that even if I found a place for our family, we couldn’t give enough time to it anyway.

But, in this discussion, I am giving it my best shot. I am just little ol’ me, wanting to stay true to my own value system, searching for a community with like minded folk and hopefully, someday, offering my children the gift of spirituality.  Yup, little ol’me, merely trying to get my head around what exactly that cool, peace loving, open-minded guy named Jesus would do.

No more babies. At least, that’s what my husband and I have decided. It just makes sense. We aren’t young whipper snappers any longer, we both just celebrated our 35th birthdays this summer. We already have two wonderful boys that fill our lives plenty enough, thank you very much. B. and I are finally starting to dream about days without car seats, diapers, naps, and temper tantrums. Days filled with family trips and our two independent boys – and even maybe more time for just him and I. Plus babies cost money, a LOT of money. Another baby means a bigger house, a bigger car, three against two, and no booths at the restaurants. It’s still fairly realistic and affordable to travel with just two children. They can fit in the back of even compact cars (at least, for the next few years). There is no odd man out; they are each other’s best friend. And call me selfish but I’m feeling ready to do more than change diapers and push kids in strollers. Not to mention the fact that I’m too vain to get pregnant yet again (there would be no hope for the pooch then, let me tell you). Seriously, we’re good at a family of four. And how lucky we are.

But every once in awhile, I hear a small voice inside making a little racket. And as we come up to September - 6 years since I conceived my first born and 3 years since I conceived my second – I can’t help but think that THIS would be the time if we were to try for a third. Because you know what that little voice inside my head keeps whispering?

“You never had a daughter.”

I always wanted a daughter. Like so many women (women like me who are only 10 year old girls playing dress up in 35 year old clothing), I think back to the days when I planned for my daughter. I kept diaries and swore that my daughter would be able to understand that what she was feeling was what her mother went through too. I used to brush the hair of my dolls and imagine having a daughter’s hair to brush. I always loved ponytails, with the little bobble elastics, one on each side of her head, hair swinging to and fro.

I know. This sounds ridiculous. It really does. Because here’s the thing. What IS my longing for a daughter really about? Is it for giving T. and C. the little sister they always wanted? Hardly. Is it because we need more women in this world? Eh, women are cool, but that’s not why.

Having a daughter is ALL about me.

When I was first planning for a family, I wanted a little girl that I could dress up in white tights with the frills in the back over the diapers. I wanted a little girl with cute bows in her hair and fluffy dresses. I wanted a little girl so I could re-familiarize myself with the Barbie section of Toys R Us again. I wanted a little girl to go to chick flicks with. To shop with. To talk about boys and read diaries and get pedicures.

Isn’t this outrageous? But I’m on a roll, I can’t stop now.

I wanted a little girl to show my scrapbooks to because I KNOW she would care. I wanted a little girl to gab about first boyfriends and share Nancy Drew books with. I wanted a little girl so I could show her my wedding gown and maybe hope she’d even like it or maybe even (dare to dream) wear it someday. I wanted a little girl to pass on the cool hand-made Thai dresses of my mother’s, that I wore and she could wear. I wanted a little girl to explain that O.B. tampons work soooo much better than Tampax, and then be able to get her a hot cup of tea when she had cramps. I wanted a little girl who might discover the wonder and excitement of the same women’s college I went to. I wanted a little girl to call me first when she got engaged and then keep me by her side for support as she planned her wedding. I wanted a little girl that I could help with through a pregnancy and be there when she was pushing because she HAD to have me there, I would have been her best friend!

I wanted a little girl so I could see myself come back around again.

I wanted a little girl because I was selfish.

So there you have it.

And are those good enough reasons to play with the odds, try for another baby and hope for a girl? Um… you’ve got to be kidding me, a resounding: NO!

Because all of that falala and frippery I’ve listed above is NOT what parenting is about. Its what *I* wanted in a parent-child relationship. But even if I had had a girl, whose to say she would have given a rat’s ass about Barbies? And whose to say my sons won’t adore and appreciate my scrapbooks after all?

Parents so often push their dreams and hopes onto their children. Our children should do what we did. They should do it better. And then they shouldn’t do what we did at all, why haven’t they learned from our mistakes?

My sons have taught me to look for so much more in parenting. While I have a brother and I was well versed in such boy obsessions as Star Wars, fishing, and Lego’s growing up - having two sons has offered me a clean slate of sorts. I’m not a boy. I had no expectations for how mother-son relationship would go. I never pretended my dolls were boys and I honestly didn’t spend hours dressing my dolls in basic Ts and khaki shorts. Having a boy was nothing I expected and everything I should have ever hoped for.

And so, now as a parent of two boys, I have learned what parenting is really about. Not outfits, toys and lecturing to them about what I did as a child. But its rather about sleeping upright in bed with your feverish baby, its about catching your son as he leaps into the pool, its about hearing him love to read, its about the same turkey sandwich everyday and demands of “snuggews (snuggles) on the couwk(couch)”. And love, this endless reserve of  it; no matter what their choices, I’ve got their back. Heck, one of them could decide he DOES want to wear those cute stockings with the ruffles after all. Knock yourself out, kid. Whatever you want to do.

But I would publicly like to warn my sons now. Someday, a long long time from now in a galaxy far far away, if they do chose to marry and do chose to have a family and if one of those grandchildren of mine is a girl… oh, heads up. The scrapbooks, the diaries, and those hand-made Thai dresses will be resurrected out of moth balls and thrust upon that sweet little girl. The poor thing. Just you wait and see.

During one of these “not so beach weather” days, my family and I took a drive up to Provincetown to poke around. It’s a favorite spot of mine, where you’ll find generations of Portuguese fishermen and historical homes along side contemporary restaurants and galleries. A place where you will find couples walking hand in hand down the street, in open adoration of one another, whether they be grandparents in fanny packs or gay men in assless chaps. Open, welcoming, cool stores, cute New England charm and the perfect solution for an otherwise dreary day.

Provincetown is also home to my favorite book store of all time. A far cry from Barnes and Nobles or Amazon.com, Tim’s Used Books is a little gem. A home converted into a bookstore, it is nestled off the main road, awaiting avid readers of every persuasion. I was thrilled to get a chance to visit once again. I put in my request for a quick 15 minute respite of “me time” and my dear husband took the kids to go look at boats.

I stepped through the doorway and was in my glory. As I wandered around, stacks upon stacks upon shelves upon shelves of books greeted me. There were hand written labels here and there on shelves declaring some level of organization. But really, it’s a place to wander quietly, shuffle about lost in your thoughts and find that wonderful book you’ve always wanted, gently used and reasonably price. I found two. While not book titles I had always wanted, they were of interest. Both “self help” books of sorts to help myself with two loves of mine: raising boys and writing. I knew very little about either title but they might be something to curl up with if the rain refused to cease but, miraculously, my children’s wrestling did.

When I was ready to pay for my treasures, I found a woman reading next to a very old register at the front of the store.

“Oh, you’re interested in non-fiction writing.”

Shyly (I felt a bit outed) I replied “…Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Well, the key is to use a lot of description. That’s really all it is.”

(Sidebar: Use a lot of description? Uh-huh. And if that’s what I have done so far in this post, I hardly consider this a successful tact in a blog. All this chatter about P-Town and you all don’t even know what my point IS yet, do you? My guess is that she soooo doesn’t know very much about blogging, now does she?)

And then, oh so confident, the woman at the till exclaimed that she was, in fact, a writer. And then, while she hand wrote the titles of my books in a log next to her, she read the various names of the non-fiction writers I would be reading about outloud – some of whom had been in that very store.

“Oh, well. I am kind of new to this writing thing anyway. I am actually blogging now so… I am just trying to get better… um… you know…. express myself…”

She stopped what she was doing and looked up at me.

“Oh. Blogging. Well, I don’t write for free.”

And with that, this smug bookstore keeper – oh I’m sorry - this smug writer, sent my post-BlogHer brain into a spin of questions.

Is writing for free really such a bad thing? Is there a point to blogging for free? What IS this blogging thing for? Why do I spend so much time doing this anyway? And is blogging considered a legitimate form of writing? Is it respected out there amongst “real” writers?

After all the time and energy I have focused over the past few months on blogging, where the hell am I going with this?

Now, not every blogger writes for free. During the conference, there was a great deal of discussion about how to make money from blogging. Whether that be advertisements, blogging for specific companies or snagging an elusive book deal, all of my fellow conference attendees seemed to be scrambling to learn how to grab their piece of the pie.

(Forgive me, another sidebar: I have a theory. While I went to Blogher on someone else’s dime – again thank you wonderful BlogHer women – I know my fellow conference attendees got a fair amount of crap for going to this conference. I heard time and again how loved ones asked fellow bloggers why they were spending money to attend a conference about something you do for free. So my guess is that most of the women there, while adoring their blog, felt some sense of responsibility to learn how to earn a buck while doing so and then tell their significant others that’s why they attended this conference in the first place. Shoot, I was at those sessions too, I get it.)

Regardless, even as I sat in those sessions, I know I ultimately struggled with the whole focus on blogging for money. And after reading Slouching Mom’s recent post, I am obviously no the only one. I worry what happens to the integrity of the blog once the author starts writing for money. Does it stop being a love and start being more of a grind?

…I gotta get more advertisers, I gotta get my readership up, I gotta write something everyone will like, I gotta write everyday…

If it’s that much work, it’s just not fun anymore, is it?

But let me be clear. If I could blog and be paid enough for one trip to the grocery store or one trip to fill up my Saturn or make enough to pay one monthly electric bill… cha-ching. What a glorious thing even that little bit would be. And if a fellow blogger manages to make more than that? Well, you go, more power to you. If I could be so lucky. As long as the heart of that blog remains and the money is just a nice benefit on the side, be the blogging business you wanna be.

But still, I find myself back at my starting point. Blogging for a tank of gas is hardly a job. And it’s hardly justification for the hours I spend writing, editing, thinking and hunched over my computer.

And to underscore my point, do you know how long this post has taken me to write? I have two children. I am in charge of them. THAT is my job. Blogging away hours of my day is NOT my job.

So where am I going with this? While I used to write some copy for my previous real-life job (many moons ago before kids), I have never been officially paid as a true freelance writer. Apart from my undergraduate liberal arts degree (in Neuroscience and behavior – super helpful in real life, no?) I don’t have any degrees or official documents stating that I can write. And I wouldn’t know where to begin to start as an official writer. All I got is my new used book about how to write and this little self serving blog. Where I write. FOR FREE.

I guess I am just having a bad blogging day. 

I guess I have had to explain where I was last weekend a little too often.

“What kind of conference was that?” “What exactly IS blogging?” “Where do you even find time to do something like that?” “Don’t you worry about sexual predators stalking you and your family on the internet?”

Oy.

As a quick reminder to myself, I know there are so many reasons why I blog which do justify all the time and effort I have invested here. There is no price tag on sanity, right? Blogging has given a little bit of that back to me. You all have heard it before, it has released me from the circular mommy groundhog day that I was living in. It is an extremely satisfying creative outlet indeed. So yay me. I should keep doing it. And I will keep doing it. And all the planets, and stars and signs are telling me I MUST do it.

But I think it’s ok to question it. And truly determine why it is that we do blog before we are peppered with questions about it, before we sign on for advertisements, and before we run into smug shopkeepers that don’t quite get it. Like some sort of blogger’s mission statement, we should all carve out, own and proudly display our reasons to blog.

Cripes, I think I might even write a mission statement. Anyone else interested in doing so? If you are, post it below. I need a little inspiration today.

And in my next post – which may not be fore a few days now – I hope to recapture the energy and excitement of BlogHer 08 and link (which is blogger lingo for “introduce”) you to some really amazing women I happened to meet. I need to remember and just get PSYCHED again, dammit.

Because we should not have to apologize for blogging. Even if it’s for free. Blogging regularly makes us better writers. Blogging for nothing means we truly love to write. Blogging is taking the first ammendment to heart. Blogging should never be exploited or biased. Blogging doesn’t have editors hasseling you over your every word. Blogging shoots straight from the hip and is as honest as anything you will ever find. Blogging is something to be respected - not snubbed.

Well, enough from me today. It is 4:30 in the afternoon, we leave tomorrow and the sun has finally come out. Can you believe this? Time to actually go find the bathing suits and untangle my wrestling boys on the floor next to me.

My parting words? Blog it, mean it, love it and then leave it. Now finally, off to the beach.

A few days ago, I turned 35 and for some reason it seems to be a bit of a milestone.  35. 5 years from 30, 5 years from 40. When I turned 30, I hardly noticed. I was deep in the trenches of tending to a newborn.  A “milk making, diaper changing, ever baby holding, never sleeping” machine. I hardly noticed it was summer, let alone that I had turned 30. It seems that since I have had children, my aging, my progress forward, my evolution in any way has kind of come to a screeching halt. And that’s been ok actually. I have been able to pretend I am still 29, the age I was when T. was born. I have almost let myself believe that everything is just at a stand-still, waiting for me to come back into the game when the coast is clear and the baby gates are down.

But here we have it – I have turned 35, and I am not so sure the game is exactly waiting around. Age is happening to me, whether I like it or not. Weight has redistributed itself – things around the back have seemed to have sucked through my body and deposited themselves on the front. Except for the top portion of my front, which actually WAS sucked away -thanks to my two boys- and I’m left with gaping, “been there done that”, A cups. I’ve got some white hairs, sun damage has become more apparent, I’ve got a bunion for cripes sakes, and I can’t focus up close when I read quite as well as I used to.

The other true indication that my life is really not stopped in place waiting for my return is the fact that my children are growing up. Nothing demonstrates the passing of time more clearly than children growing before your very eyes. 5 years have gone by since I have become a mother and turned 30, and my growing children (just add water, the Chia Child that grows…. Cha-cha-cha-cha- chia!!!) have made sure I don’t live in denial about that fact.

So yup, as so many do, I have grumped my way into 35, responding with a groan when someone wishes me well. Clearly, I am feeling sorry for myself. But, ugh though. This self pity crap is really annoying, and you know I am not the only one who does it. Why can’t we accept this inevitable aging process and the milestones that come with it?  

So to change it up, and slap some sense into myself, I think this might be a good time to take stock. I think to make myself feel better and actually celebrate this mark of 35 years, I need to list all that is good about this age.  So read along as I try really reeeeeally hard to make myself feel better and remark on what a fabulous half full glass 35 actually is.

·         I can finally just relax into my own body. It is what it is. The genes are laid down, the babies have been born and left it as so. I should be good to it, appreciate it, throw pride to the wind and wear that bikini after all, accepting that what I got is what I got.

·         By now, I have to know something. I have to have enough life experience that I can safely feel some confidence about having a clue about how the world goes ‘round. And if someone asks for it, my advice could maybe possibly hold some water.

·         Being carded at 35 is a compliment. It really is. That 18 year old kid asking for my I.D. truly makes my day. 35 probably doesn’t look as old as I think it does.

·         In my twenties, I was in a frenzy of getting engaged, planning a wedding, being married, and then trying and succeeding at having babies before my child-bearing years were over. And now, (throw some confetti in the air) I’ve done it! I got that covered. Now it’s time to figure out the next steps without that crazy pressure over my head.

·         Years ago, before children, I hated to be alone. It seemed pointless and lonely and too quiet. Now, I cherish some time alone. To remember the old me, think my own thoughts, make my own choices. Granted, I still don’t want to fly solo for too too long, mind you, but the time alone I do get, I savor and cherish.

·         At 35, all radio stations are my musical oyster. The soft rock station plays songs I actually know (honestly, it’s not THAT bad). The oldies station plays my favorite tunes from high school. I still know top 40. I still jam out to R&B (I don’t care how ridiculous this white suburbia mom probably looks). Classic rock rocks, even if it doesn’t seem THAT classic. And when I am running up to the store without the kids, I’ll even blast the alternative rock station and swear I still do “get it”.

·         White hairs on blond women can be written off as “highlights”. At least I’D like to think so.

·         I don’t care what “What Not to Wear” says, at 35, I still feel like I can buy fun t-shirts in the Jr. Section and get away with it.

·         Laugh lines just mean you’ve been happy. And when you smile, well those laugh lines just make you look happier.

·         As I raise two children, at least I know that one day, I have left this world with something really really good. That alone kind of negates any said bitching and moaning about my age.

·         35 is ONLY 35.

Now for those of you smug folks who are 5, 10, 20 years my senior and are currently rolling their eyes at my pathetic little mid-life crisis (which I am constructively trying to reconcile with a harmless little blog post, mind you), just remember you were 35 too once. We all go through milestones and experience them in our own particular self-indulgent way.

Ok then. Now that I have accepted that I am the ripe, wise and proud age of 35, maybe I can stand my ground and really show how I have gotten a clue in future years. Each year forward, I want to try very hard not to dwell (“try” being the key word) on the “getting old” bit. Really, enough already, it’s just annoying. I need to get over it and keep taking stock and celebrating those achievements – big or small. And more to the point, I need to get fired up about what I still have yet to tackle, discover, celebrate and enjoy. My boys are growing up and a bit more independent – let’s get on with it, there is so much to do!

And finally, my dearest friend also reminded me that the day we are born isn’t meant for bemoaning our white hairs and droopy body parts. Remember, we were born this day. We have come into the world, done some cool stuff, made our world better in whatever large or small way and people have loved us for it. Our friends want to cheer us on and we should accept that love, light some birthday candles and get on with the party. So, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. May I get plastered you baaa…d girl, happy birthday to me. Cheers!

Have you ever paid attention to the universe around you? I mean, REALLY paid attention? I am not sure if it’s something supernatural, something religious, something mystical, spiritual, or a big mish mash of hocus pocus mumbo jumbo, but if we are paying close close attention, the universe does send us signals. And, while taking the risk of sounding completely coo-coo for cocoa puffs, I have a feeling the Powers That Be are trying to tell me something. And I’m not getting subtle smoke signals in the distance either. Something big has been laying down a runway, with lights, and huge arrows, and blinking neon signs with the words “GO THIS WAY” all in caps, and all the gods and goddesses and wonderful souls that watch over me are jumping up and down at the end of that runway screaming: “C’mon! Yoooo whooo!!!! Over here… OVER HERE!!!!”

I know, this is a nut-so idea. I know it sounds like I’ve been spending a liiiitle too much time sniffing my kids markers. But, for real, I believe it. So let me tell you what’s going on.

I started blogging about 5 months ago. And reading back in my recent post about thanking Blog Her, you know I feel extraordinarily humbled by the fantastic opportunity I was given to attend Blog Her. It felt as if the universe opened itself up and dropped this trip in my lap. I was completely caught off guard and have been beyond appreciative. It’s honestly all I have been thinking about over the past couple of weeks. I just can’t wait. And right about when I found out I could go to Blog Her, I think that runway vaguely seemed to be coming into view.

And then it happened to me again yesterday. The universe opened itself up and dropped another fantastic opportunity in my lap. I was contacted by a PR firm representing HP and Microsoft to try out some of their products and bring them to Blog Her. What kind of products? Ohhhhh…. a laptop and video camera. For me. To use. No strings. Just see if you like them. And I don’t even have a laptop (remember, my 6 million dollar computer pieced together with parts, some dating back as far as 8 years?) and then - a video camera? Are you kidding me? I just about fainted dead away. Yup, the runway is clearly blazing with super mega watt lights. *Bing* *bing* *bing*, this way, this way, this way!

So, ok, I’ve got a free trip to this conference. And then just when I was feeling like HOW could I ever POSSIBLY be cool enough at BlogHer without a laptop but, whatevs, I’ll figure it out… um… one is now being magically delivered to me? Yup. Poof, the universe drops one from the sky. Of course.

And then there has been the support for this blog. The wonderful comments and unsolicited encouragement I’ve recieved, well, I am immensely grateful. I have made new friends and have learned amazing tips from other blogs that I have incorporated into my life. Yup, I take this positive experience and the amazing connections created with fellow bloggers as another sign. It’s honestly as clear as day, right? No doubt, the Powers That Be are absolutely doing their “over here dance” at the end of that runway.

Maybe you’d call it luck. Or a crazy coincidence. Or serendipity. Or Karma (that would be nice). Or something from a religion you believe. Whatever it is, something BIG is trying to tell me something IMPORTANT. And what do I think that is? BLOG. Write. Create. Keep doing this. If you blog it, they will come. For real folks. I think this is what some people might describe as: “A CALLING”

Too many magic (they don’t call ‘em magic for nothing) markers, I know, I know. But I had to share what’s rattling ’round in my brain. It’s what bloggers do, right?

And that’s the other thing. You see, when good things happen to me, I need to acknowledge it publicly. Why? Because I am truly grateful. I need to call right back up to that hole in the universe, where so many things seemed to have fallen out of recently, and say THANK YOU.

So those are my deep thoughts for the day. And you know I will be looking “fly” with my new gear at BlogHer too, just be sure to come over and smack me if I seem a tad too smug. But what’s more likely is that you’ll have no trouble spotting me from a far. Why? Well, I’ll be the one in some crazy hat that has a sign on it blinking “THANK YOU” out at the world around me.

I’ll let you know if that hole in the universe opens up again. Shoot, a nice family sized hybrid might fall out of there next! But in the meantime, I am going to be paying attention to these signs around me and keep heading down the path I seem to be on. It’s certainly well lit, there’s no trouble there. So, I hate to tell ya folks, blogging it is. I’m going to be around awhile.