Belated Merry Christmas

Hi, sorry in my typical whine I forgot to wish my readers a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays. That's not the only thing I forgot this holiday season. I overlooked mailing my holiday cards early, so for those of you who did not receive them yet, there on their way.

Others things left by the wayside this holiday season: Christmas cards with our annual pictures of the boys, a present for my brother-in-law (which technically ended up costing me more than I anticipated on spending because guilt stepped and threw in an extra gift.) I also forgot to get a hostess gift for my sister-in-law, left behind the packages of cookies and candy treats on the sofa on Christmas day and most pressing my willpower to eat less of everything fattening during the holidays.

From the long list it's looks like I can use another round of the Brain Fitness Program to sharpen my mind. One thing I remembered in this hectic holiday season was to treat myself good. For every two gifts I purchased, I bought one for myself. :)

OMG I am more like my mom than imagined!

Christmas music is on, I am humming, food is cooking on the stove, a fine mist of flour covers too many surfaces in my kitchen. OMG I became my mother. Yeah.

Like many, there are some things I rather not repeat from generations past but they are very few. I think its because my mom died so long ago, I want to emulate her and put her motherly warmth in my home just like she did.

Yesterday, I told hot husband I missed my mom and I truly do. Christmas is always a difficult holiday to get through and particularly though when both parents are gone. But I do like the feeling that I am like my mom in certain ways and this thought came as I was humming to Christmas music.

This year we are very blessed to have each other and add more traditions to our holidays. One is my recipe chocolate fudge cookie. Apparently, it's all the rave with my nieces and nephews, who are putting in special orders on Facebook. So yesterday, I made double my usual holiday supply. I also somewhat perfected a fudge my mom made us when we were little. I boxed wrapped it special for my sisters and sent it on its way. Just a little reminder of our youth and our mom.

Sometimes it's okay to be like your mom.

Getting into the spirit of Christmas

The other week, I was down in the dumps for absolutely no reason. A complete lie. For many, including me, this time of the year sometimes trudges up old shit. And if I am not on top of it it creeps back into my life. So, instead of rehashing the hurts and pains of yesteryear I will just say Christmas time was as perfect as it could be.

But when you have young children you really don't have the time to explore and lull in this. I needed Christmas spirit. I bought my first artificial tree in the hopes that putting it up at the end of November would kick my butt into holiday mode. To no avail. I left it there unadorned for two weeks and marveled at the idea that I could live with it just like that.

I took another stab at it by making my husband put more lights up the only thing it changed was the utility bill. See, the holiday blah blahs. I wanted to get into the spirit early and get the shopping over with but not much aided my quest.

So there I stood in the super sized store of super sized everything, Costco. Looking intently at the all the merchandise holiday related without much luck. Then something struck me, I needed something to put me into the spirit soon. Ah ha, walking down the book aisle I found just the thing. A mushy happy go lucky Christmas book. The book pointed in all the right directions of a Hallmark made for T.V. movie and best of all it cured me of the blah blahs, put a smile on my face and kicked my Grinch Ass.

With nine days to go, I am almost done the shopping and gearing up to bake some yummy treats with the boys. Even Hot Husband is in the Holiday spirit. I love it.

Substance

Substance has many meanings but I particularly enjoy this one: "the actual matter of a thing, as opposed to the appearance or shadow; reality" from dictionary.com. Why substance? In the last couple of weeks the world is inundated with the martial woes of a certain golfer.

It got a little over done when every media outlet led with this story. Okay, the guy messed up, big time, but is it really any of our business? I don't think so but other people do. I think mainstream media believes we want this kind of information 24/7. Would you want your transgressions or errs "mediacized". No. Why do we tune into the nothingness of other peoples lives. Are we turning into a shallow society that gossiping voyeurism is becoming the new news?

This got me thinking of the substance of news and the value we put on it. What is our threshold of information, are we all twittering idiots that we need moment by moment updates? Put yourself in the hot news topic of the day. Unless your thirsty for the nouveau celebrity, which, I am learning is something like the new 30, you would definitely dislike the onslaught of paparazzi into your life. I am absolutely certain a week of full exposure to the world would turn you off. As they creep into your life and start rummaging through your closet to find anything that could be turned into a nightly news story.

Ah, the age of information. It's only my opinion. Have a wonderful day.

Tattle Tailing Adults: TTAs

I am guilty of tattle tailing mostly under the age of ten. There is no excuse for it, we teach our children it is not the appropriate behavior and try to instill in them integrity. As a middle child in a large family who grappled for attention I learned at a tender young age that tattle tailing landed me front and center with my parents just where I wanted to be.

Now, in my mid-forties and a parent, who on occasion deals with this issue with my own children, I am learning pay back is sometimes a bitch. I expect this behavior to crop up with battling siblings and their quest for attention or simple need to be right all the time. But I resent it from adults. Yesterday, an underling went over my head. Not that I did a bad thing but just to put it out there the boss’ choice did not match up with the employee’s view.

I know it’s called insubordination and can be grounds for a pink slip and if it were not a relative, who needs the job, I would have let her go. But……family, ah, we got to love them……

As a grownup tattle tailing labels you a whiner and quite frankly an immature person. It drives me crazy, simply. The strive in an individual who feels justified and right by spilling the beans only makes them look bad and juvenile. The attention garnered is not exactly the Norman Rockwell attention you’re seeking. As a matter of fact, my mom knew me so well that just before my dad walked in the door she warned me to zip my lips, I didn’t heed her advice, quite frankly it was hard to do as an eight year old. But slowly after witnessing let’s say heated discussions between my parents I began to change tactics to get the attention I so well deserved.

So, to all those grownups compelled to tattle tail on another stop being so juvenile. You have an issue, address in a mature fashion to the person in question or ZIP YOUR LIPS.

To Christmas shop or not

For the past couple of weeks, I contemplated getting a jump start on my Christmas shopping. My boys are getting older and keeping presents a surprise from them is at times challenging. Like many kids, even moi, I began to scour my mom's room early for any clue of presents. Unfortunately, my mom did not shop early due to monetary issues which I learned only later on. But nevertheless, I know my older son snoops making it difficult to hide presents.

Do I shop early or wait until the stores become unmanageable and beyond crowded or do I start? Ummmmm. I will say that there are deals out there for certain items and it's tempting.

MID LIFE CRISIS

You know that saying "it's all a matter of perspective" got me thinking yesterday as I drove to my hair appointment. Feeling glum and a tad bit icky from a bad hair day, even the prospect of getting my hair done could not shake this mood. Is it really all a matter of perspective? Am I putting more thoughts to a problem at home or is it totally out of perspective. What I think is not necessarily what Hot Husband thinks and that is reality. But my own reality of the a certain situation could be quite different from HH. Could I be imaging issues in our home. Nah.

In the last couple of months, Hot Husband is melting faster that the polar ice. He is moody, at times reclusive and evasive. And he spews like Mount Etna. Like last week, desperately needing a break, my doe sister invited me out for the afternoon, initially reluctant to go, I accepted her invitation. My older son could not come due to a game but my little one was free so I decided to bring him along. Well, that did not go over well with Hot Husband or should I call him Hot Headed Husband, lol.

As we set out the door the volcano erupted and he insinuated my poor parenting skills for taking our son away from homework. With PMS only slightly subsiding, I roared back and an argument erupted. My younger one covered his ears. All I wanted to do was run and cry. It seems the simplest things set him off. Initially, blaming myself I realized he is having a MID LIFE CRISIS. Ugh. Not enjoyable for me and definitely not for him. Funny thing is it's the name of his band.

I tried a soothing approach last week to no avail but an eruption of anger. This week, I decided it's best to step aside and maybe it will pass. At what age do men go through this? And quite frankly how long does it last because this wifey is tired of gazing into ashen clouds. Yes, call me what you want but he should man up to his issues. There I said it. Comment all you want but it's true. No more pussy footing around. You have a problem and don't want help. DEAL WITH IT. And rather quickly I may add. Not only is it causing havoc on me but it's affecting the boys.

Writing is therapy, I do digress.

Put on hold

On hold is one of my top pet peeves and I could say it is for most in the modern world with phone service. Yesterday, I attempted to get to make an annual appointment with my OB-GYN, to no avail. While on hold I was put on hold, sounds stupid but it's true. It has something to do with call priority.

So when a message describing a service while on hold you can leave your name and number and a brief message then when your turn comes they call you, I jumped at it. While, I thought what a neat invention, no more waiting on hold. I am still waiting for my call to come some 18 hours later. Invention and convenience my a$$.

All this advance in technology and inventiveness adds more time and effort. Push 3 for appointments, push two for emergency. Call priority is a cruel joke.

What happen to the day the secretary answered by the third ring and quickly gave you an appointment. And while I am on the topic of doctors, why can they not keep to their schedules. It's the rudest thing to have your clients sit there for two hours only to be rushed through a medical appointment. I wonder if they give a course in med school on punctuality or client relations.

I recall a conversation between to women about phone calls and something she said stood out. If she did not answer her business line by the third ring she generally lost business. Now, should this not be the same for doctors? Without clients what are they, men/women with lab coats and awful necklaces.

Ah, some 18 hours later and another morning of being on hold for twenty minutes I finally got through for an appointment in February 2010. Please stay on the line in order to maintain your call priority. LOL.

Phone Bugs Anonymous

I talked on the phone incessantly since my teenage years. I must have racked well over hundreds of thousands of dollars in bills. I loved to talk on the telephone with friends. My girlfriend and I tag teamed during a break up for close to a month until one day her boyfriend gave her an ultimatum, him or the phone. Politely understanding and for the first time seeing what a pain talking on the phone transformed into, I made a point of using the greatest invention less.

Fast forward to today, I am a reformed phone bug. I can go for days, weeks and sometimes months without using the phone for mundane conversation. I do use it and answer it for necessary reasons: my children, my husband and other mandatory things. What I do not use it for is to chit chat. Seldom. Really. Last month my BFF called to catch up keeping me on the line for over an hour. I finally let her go by agreeing to dinner later that week.

Aggravatingly, my closest and dearest sisters are phone bugs. One doe calls me two, three, four times a day. Often our conversation is plagued with dead air because there is not much left to discuss. She now does a play by play of her passing hours to fill the time. I love her dearly but find it such a waste of time. I don't mind speaking to her once a day but more than that is unnecessary.

You know there is not much left to discuss when you begin chit chatting about the weather. I like meeting in person over lunch or drinks to enjoy their company. And as any born again phone bug can attest to is the deep dislike for their former hang up. All the pun intended. Enjoy your day and don't call me, please.

Good or Great

Today, I wonder what exactly sets me apart from say a great literary writer or a Pulitzer prize author. Honestly, what sets me apart from the greatest writers of all time. I went to college and university. I studied hard, wrote for a the college paper, wrote for a weekly local paper, did some radio reporting, wrote and wrote. So there! My dream in college was to go to New York, become an expert bond trader, wear Calvin Klein 24/7 and have a fabulous life and write.

What happen. I allowed my dreams to slip away. I allowed the drama of my boring life catch up to me. I allowed sadness from my mother's death cloud my judgement. I allowed that same sadness and grief to turn into fear. At first, just little things became fearful. Like I am going to die of cancer too. The fear crept up and slowly took the seat of my dreams. It moved into my life and I became more and more fearful. I let optimism slip and fear slid in so effortlessly.

Today, after what seems like a life time of fear, and vanquishing it to it's rightful place, I now dream of writing, finishing a book. Yes I have fear but it's not engulfing and stifling my thoughts, my life. I am not choking from it anymore. What's separates me from the greats, just a piece of paper with their name on it. Like art, writing is in the mind of the reader. Great.

First Day of School

I survived, barely, the first day of school for my boys. Both my boys are at new schools and I spent last night filling in forms for the new students. The night before I labeled over a hundred items and wrote out a schedule for my own information. On Monday, I woke a little past six to shower and get ready for the office. I woke my sons and began making lunches, while fixing breakfast and pressing my clothes. I did a load of laundry fixed my own lunch. I brought my oldest to the bus stop. The bus was late 10 minutes. With ten minutes to spare, I ran home and got my youngest ready and took the car to the bus stop with one minute to spare. The bus came 20 minutes later. With less than ten minutes to get to his school, I raced home, put some makeup on, gathered my things and headed off in morning traffic to his school. His bus arrived at school 20 minutes late and in that time the school secretary and I search the entire school for him unbeknownst to us his bus did not arrive. Things only went downhill from there for the poor little guy. His first day at his new school was horrible and he cried for an hour begging to return to his old school. I cried to my husband that we made a mistake in changing his school. And in my moment of guilt, I almost enrolled him back.

Surprisingly, I arrived at work only 1.5 hours late.

Aside from the late nights and early morning, for the past two weeks we shopped for shoes, pants, binders, pencils, memory sticks and a protractor set. On that note, I am not alone. In a small informal survey amongst friends and family, Back to School week was hectic to say the least. My girlfriend spent the week leading up to BtS away on business, ugh. My sister just drove her son to boarding school and with three days rest drives her daughter four hours away to college. Only to come home for the night and head out with her husband for his sports tournament in another state. My other sister drove her son to boarding school and gets her girls off to high school tomorrow. My other sister is home for two days and heads to the West Coast to bring her step son to his boarding school. Hectic. Crazy.

So there, my BtS week is comparable. By Monday, we will be smiling as our families acclimatize to the routines and we adjust to our freedom as our children are at school. I may start a cocktail luncheon on Mondays for all us moms.

Have a great day and smile because you can.

Time flies when your not paying attention

I remember like it was yesterday. Now don't say you heard that before because I KNOW the odds are in your favor . But it was only yesterday that I wished the day my boys slept past 7 am and now it's here. Not quite how I wished it. That wish came from a sleep deprived mother of two young boys who spent the past 24 hours doing late night diaper changes, making bottles, soothing a sick baby, reading bedtime stories and rocking my boys to bed. All the while thinking I would rather be somewhere else.

Admittedly, I did not take to the baby years as well as others who could not think of any other place to be. I projected my thoughts on what it would be like when my boys were one month, two months, six months, a year usually as I breastfed my little one at three in the morning and yearned more sleep. My youngest brought out my impatience more than the first.

Committed to breastfeeding for six weeks, I counted the days and on his sixth week birthday, I celebrated. Always in a rush for the next step. In the book on what to expected in the baby years, I read ahead months at a time, relishing the new age and the new things my sons would do one day. Truly relishing the future not enjoying the present. Contrasting the changes to occur as my little one lay in my arms, I did not realize it at the time but I was in a rush for no particular reason than to be in a rush and to experience each stage of their little life well informed. I thought, knowing what to expect in the next six months if not just to stay on top of my boys life ideally was what mothers did.

It's now 9 am and my two boys are still sleeping, far from the need of diapers changes or Pablum. They are in need of sleep and rest for the day ahead of swimming, playing outside and from the expended energy yesterday. So here I sit, my home is quiet and I am lonely for their company, their presence, their voices and endless chattering. Sometimes, I quietly enter their rooms to check on them for no other reason than to spend a bit of time with them, even if they are asleep.

So I am no longer in a rush but cherish each moment. No longer reading books on what to expected in the teenage years. I just take each day as it comes and boy it's great.

The Ex Files

Yesterday, I heard a wonderful story of a friend and her ex going on vacation with their children for two whole weeks. Divorced for over ten years, the remarkable thing is that their children are young adults and it was a road trip.

Wow, I admire her experience and told her to share it because not many exes can do this. Some are amicable in the prescience of the children and that usually ends as they become adults. Some cannot bear to even be in each others company let alone drive around the country for two weeks.

I just think this is great. You are not only showing your children civility but the power of family despite being divorced. Poster exes for the masses.

Smile today because you can.

T.M.I.

When is too much information too much. I ask this after more than I bargained from an old college friend. Are there rules that govern how much information to share with others?

Courage

Courage. Such a tangible asset and the markings of great personal strength. I am similar in a way to the lion in Alice in Wonderland. In that, the perception people have of me is that I am a fearless creature but really I lack courage at times. Expect, that is, today. Courage came to me loud and clear and I took full advantage of it. And boy did it feel great.

Courage escapes me when it comes to speaking up for myself in emotional relationships. Not so much in business but in emotional issues, I melt inside. Like this morning, courage spoke about what I want in life and boy it was easier than I thought.

This is not to say, things will work entirely in my favor but the courage it took to put it out there is what I am celebrating. Here's to you: courage. :)

Miracles

Just when you think there are no miracles, life surprises you. Like this morning, most of the Western world learned of the two journalists released from North Korea. Whatever angle you look at it a miracle was produced to get them home.

Miracles come in all shapes and sizes.

I am happy and grateful to live in the free world.

Are we too hard on ourselves

I ask you: are we too hard on ourselves? Yes, I think I am. Today, I ran into a woman the same age as me and she looked terrific. Too curious, I asked her secret with a reply I only heard so many times in the past couple of months. The latest diet fad: Herbal Magic.

She smiles truly proud of her accomplishment of dropping 50 pounds, accepts the compliments and brims proudly. I tell you that's the fifth person I ran into in the past month who dropped in excess of 30lbs. Now, I will let out a little tidbit of information on me, in the past 2 1/2 years I put on 20lbs and feel quiet fat about it. Clothes are tight and snug, my sleep is affected and most of all my morale is down. And I am running out of clothes that fit properly. So, I am on an eating plan with low carbs and a little bit of exercise. But it sounds almost too inviting not to try.

A perfect size nine most of my adult life, I swayed only one size from that after my first child, and only slightly off track with my second. I ate right and exercised when my schedule allowed. Four years ago, I quit smoking and believed I would gain weight and did. Then I stopped watching my eating habits and ate anything I wanted. The result: 20lbs and a lot of great clothes sitting in my closet waiting for me to wear. Is that being hard on myself. I am a size 12 and feel fat.

Are we too hard on our self image? Why do we feel we must be a certain size and look a certain way. Well, mostly it's our self imposed perception and expectations we fall victim too. Is there a day we hear women stating how they want to feel or look? It's everywhere and at times inundating if we allow it. I just think we are too hard on ourselves, putting expectation of how we should look and feel. And we need to learn most of the time life is fine and we are great no matter what size or shape we have.

I think instead of beating ourselves up, we should be proactive in our self image and perceptions of ourselves. Make our own definitions. Imagine mainstream media reported size 12 to size 20 was optimal size for women. That would put a smile on most women's faces. Hah. I say just be yourself no matter what shape or size you are.

Lost Causes or the Patron Saint

In the past seven days, the issue of prayer came up in two of my books, neither were on theology. Humor and hopelessly romantic despondency themed, on women making a change in life. One a book of fiction the other a book on personal self discovery. The more I compare the contents more common themes come to mind. Coincidence? Oprah, God bless her soul, once said there is no such things and I agree. So as I read or should I say devoured the books while on vacation, I marveled on the idea of prayer, so much so, I added a prayer to a God, who ever was listening at the time and one to St Jude, the patron Saint of lost causes, not that a lost cause existed but a prayer never the less for any assistance to help with my issue.

As the pages turned and St Jude became a desperate metaphor in the one book, it made me think of how my little issue could be a lost cause and ammended my prayer accordingly. I love the power of prayer and from time to time I like to use it when necessary. Usually I like solving things completely on my own, independently. But in this occasion, I left on vacation with an aching desire for something to turn out it my favor. So, there not so crazy an idea but much like the heroine in the book, desperate. And so, while in the mountains, I took the time to reflect and pray a little bit more adding details to each one. At one point, I outlined exactly word for word how my prayer should be answered. Talk about being presumptuous, a bad habit of mine.

Seven days later, after piling into my home with luggage, toys, shoes and several insect bites, I took a chance of glancing at the phone. Yes, there was a message. I reviewed the callers and seen part of my prayer was answered but avoided listening to the actual message. Twenty-four hours later, my son pushed play while I showered and happily expressed I had a meeting the next day, to my delight. Half my prayer was answered. So, if my prayer to God and to Ste Jude worked and now I waited for the final results, I impatiently asked in one last addendum for an answer to come by the next day, no sense in letting the suspense eat at me.

Picture my cockiness and over confident self rubbishing through life with my nose in the air. Mind you I did thank the Gods for everything and began thinking of the thank you I would write. In fact it happened today and lst night I went to bed with sugar plum fairies in my dreams. Boy did I get my answer faster than I expected and astonished more so with the results.

So here goes, I thank you St Jude for answering my prayers in a timely and efficient manner and quite surprisingly too and for answering all my future prayers. I may not completely understand how I got what was giveth but I know there is a reason. And in time I will understand. Have a great day in Saintville and keep up the good work.

Birthdays

Is it just me or do most women over 40 feel the same way about birthdays as they do about, let's say, going to the dentist? With another one under the belt this past week, there was little build up to it. I marvelled birthdays past but now with each passing year it reminds me of this analogy a friend said years ago: "Double your age, when we turn 20 we can easily see ourselves at 40, at 30 we can easily see ourselves at 60, 40 is somewhat different, seeing ourselves at 80 is tricky." That puts things into perspective.

This year, I bought my own cake, hot husband with instructions in hand did not buy me anything after the costly microwave repair I took as a birthday present. Imagine, I choose an appliance as a birthday present, this says much. In keeping with the festive mood, the cake made it ways onto the forks of my always hungry boys and the only lingering thought of my birthday was the cards on my table from the boys.

Hot husband gave me a silly card of love, when opened a couple moved and the husband dipped his wife and kissed her. I opened it once and the couple became unglued, falling to the floor. I wondered, is this a sign.

Birthdays were a big deal to me. My mom made me one birthday party when I turned seven. I got a new blue bike and as I went to make my wish, my younger sister blew out my candle. Hence my fascination with birthdays, my sister can attest to it. By the end of the summer my bike made it into the hands of my brother and his friends for parts. Growing up I imagined finding a spouse who would throw me surprise parties to show his undying love for me. For years I would secretly wishing coming home to a surprise birthday party, with my house filled with friends. It didn't happen but a girl can dream. Hot husband is not a party planner but he can throw a very intimate dinner for two together on occasion. I just made an excuse for my husband, ugh.

Birthdays also signified a new beginning, a year ahead filled with hope. That this would be the year things come together, finally. Full of hope and a little fear that things would remain the same. I am not quite sure of what I wanted to change or gain but it was there. I put a lot of stock in birthdays probably as much as people put into New Years resolutions. In my early twenties, I purchased all the magazines for the birthday horoscopes. At times, grudgingly rereading them months later to discover my life swayed in different directions. Hence, birthdays.

Since turning forty, by the way, I threw my own party and celebrated the big 4-0 in style. Birthdays took on a whole new life or lack their of. Sneakingly suspicious, I did an informal poll amongst 40-45ish women and discover my neurosis on birthdays was actually quite prevalent among the group. I summed it up to the next big one is 50, which is the new 30 and I have ever intention of soaking those years up too. So for all those celebrating, I mean just having another birthday, happy one. :)

Rain, rain go away

Come back another day, no come back after Labor Day. In the the northeast, it has rained everyday for the past to weeks. Hello, it's not Vancouver, Mother Nature!!!

Today, the first day of vacation at the cottage will most likely end at home. The boys and I will trek to the cottage and see if it's safe. The word on the cabin circuit is that some small bridges washed from this rain that has plagued us . I am not worried it affecting my cottage but we'll see.
Reminiscent of last year, the rain hampers summer plans and forces us to stay in our homes. Unlike Vancouver where the residents acclimatize to wet weather and go on with their lives, Northeasterners whine and complain and stay in doors. We deserve better after making it through the long winters.

As my dad would say the only thing this much rain is good for are the farmers and their fields. Enjoy.

Happy Father's Day

It my second father's day without mine. Today, I will remember him as this bigger than life figure in my life like only a daughter can.

My dad was not the best dad growing up. My parents' marriage was tumultuous at best with an undying love for one another mixed in there. Much like oil and vinegar. Strange but true my parents dated for years after the divorce, living seperately and happily for a while. My dad began making grand gestures most of the time involving his children but my mother didn't fall for them. They cut each other loose for good when I was about 18 and heading to college.

My dad took it bad and I didn't see him regularly for a couple of years. Then my mom died suddenly and my dad was now a single father of a large broad of children. He stood up to the plate humbly and greatly.

He became an attentive dad in our lives regularly and I loved and cherished every moment. He was there for the birth of my son, for most birthday parties and holiday dinners. He was a great dad. The other day I caught myself looking up his long winding road for his pickup. A tell tale sign he's home but instead their was a foreign vehicle in his parking spot. In that moment, I missed him dearly. Just a quick visit on my lunch hour, catch up as we sat in front of his blaring television of some hunting or fishing show. My dad was a man's man. An outdoorsman who spent many hours in the bush or at his cabin until the day he died. Sometimes, he had papers for me to read over for him other times he would complain about his sons. Sometimes, he would recount stories from his youth. All times I would sit there like a perfect daughter and listen.

But life goes on: we are born and we die. It's fact. What's even truer is today is a day to celebrate your dad whether he is here in flesh or spirit. Enjoy and have a wonderful day.

Friends

Dinner with my BFF and her family last night was a blast. Now that our children are older, they actually play with one another. So there we sat, two girls who met in college and remained good friends for over 20 years, smiled and admired our brood.

We came from opposite worlds: a rez kid and a worldly girl. Our differences are as huge as our similarities. Some years later: we celebrate Orthodox Easter through our husbands, live ten minutes apart, not planned, our children are similar in ages and we married within a year of each other. Our differences are what brought us together, she came from stable family, while my parents were divorced. She lived all over the world by time she was 18, I lived in one place all my life. She was a straight shooter while I continually tested the limits in much of everything. She has only a brother, I have five sisters.

There were years we didn't see each other and years we were in constant touch. Today, we both plan events at our respective jobs, although on much different scales. We both have a mother-in-law and no father-in-law. While I am quick on the trigger, she is more forbearing. I complain, she listens. She hates talking on the phone, I just started hating talking on the phone. We share our everyday mothering experiences, talk about our husbands, laugh and sometimes cry.

She is simply a great friend.

Happy Easter - "Christos Anesti!"

When I was young Easter marked the one event of the year I could count on when my mother adorned her daughters with new clothes for church. One year, I got a new tan knee length coat, another year a new dress and the next a new hat. Skipping ropes, marbles and chocolate were added bonus too. At that young age, I had no clue Easter would come twice in my home as an adult. Traditional Easter this coming weekend and Orthodox Easter the following.

This Sunday, Easter is with my sister and her family. She's doing most of the cooking and baking, something she loves. Of course, my boys will overdose on chocolate, luckily they can run it off outdoors. Best is spending the day with my sisters and their families.

Next Sunday, Orthodox Easter is at my home and celebrated with my in-laws and some of my family too. In my books, it tops celebrations. It's the most important time in the Orthodox calendar culminating with a huge festive dinner on Sunday.

What's not to love. Happy Easter, "Christos Anesti!"

Random Things about Me

1. I am lucky in a dumb way
2. I like to argue just to argue
3. I am clumsy
4. Seven is my favorite number
5. Forgot the exact date I met my husband
6. Talk too much
7. Hate to answer my cell phone but love to call on it
8. Been called a queen on more than one occasion
9. My uncle thinks I met Nelson Mandela instead I visited Madame Toussauds in London
10. I was a tomboy in my teens
11. I find British humor down right hilarious and entertaining
12. Got dumped once for not having a car
13. I pile things
14. Would love to try speed dating to see what all the fuss is about
15. I am a terrible singer
16. I love the Rolling Stones
17. The human brain fascinates me
18. Love my siblings but always wished I was an only child
19. Paris is still on my agenda of things to do before a certain age
20. Have an affinity for purses and shoes.

Trust your gut

I need to learn to trust more in general. Maybe, beginning with myself or more precisely my gut. As an idiot who prided herself in following my intuition there are times when it goes over my head.

Last week is a prime example with my son's practice mix up by the coach. None the less, leaving a couple of hockey mom's in a tizzy, including myself. But in the span of a couple of hours, my gut gave me clues that I ignored, no less than three times. That's where I am an idiot because I even read a book on using your intuition.

So trust your gut. It comes in all shapes and forms.

Year of the Whiners

I am changing the Year of the Ox to the Year of the Whiners. Is it just me or does it seem like people are whining more than ever? Take for example the moan spewed by Bernie Madoff about his house arrest, liking living in a penthouse paid for by some 13,000 investor’s money is a hardship, imagine Riker’s. Or Gwyneth Paltrow’s pretentious spiel as a down to earth perfect whiny ass rich actress who finds it pompous to be photographed with her husband. Or the ex-wife of a retired famous baseball player chasing him down NYC streets yelling and screaming he’s a loser. Closer to home, I noted it in my boys, in acquaintances. This general whimper is everywhere.

I noted this rash bellyache syndrome in the past couple of weeks. Gone are the days we read about the flamboyant lifestyles Wall Street or the celebrity hogs vying for 15 minutes of fame. You can name last year as the “Year of the Wannabe.” I Wannabe an A-List actor, banker, chef, perfect real-wife, motorcycle mechanic…… You get the gist of last year. Gone with them are the days of excess.

Now are the days of whining. Is it in the cards or in the stars this particular month or year is all about “poor me”? Am I spewing the whine as I write about it? Probably. It’s the year we hear it in all areas, for some people whine is all they can do as they lose their home to foreclosure or their job to downsizing. Who can blame the average folk for being caught in the middle of a very deep recession? We can listen because it’s sad and heart wrenching to us. We want to help, we want to be good neighbors, caring citizens because most of us are just regular average folks.

It it is quite difficult to endure the whine of people who are not in contention to lose their job or their home, who command a high or wealthy lifestyle and complain publicly when it's in jeopardy. It irks even the saintliest of people to hear of these types people cry foul. And that’s my point, this is the Year of The Whine not the Ox. Where's the ear plugs, honey.

Mind Your Own Business: MYOB

I sat my son down the other day and with an authoritative mom voice telling him to mind his own business (MYOB) at school. It comes on the heel of situations, let's say, that involve my boy. To illustrate how to MYOB I gave lame examples of walking away from situations, playing in another areas in the school yard and explicitly remind him to keep his hands to himself.

Then I thought about it this morning and MYOB is easier said than done even for adults. Imagine we stay in our own business and not in others? What fun would that be? Frankly, an entire industry is based on this: celebrity media. Imagine they mind their own business making check out lines bland of glossy magazines. Now that's some revolution. Some celebrities would cry foul.

MYOB is a novel concept and works quite effectively staving off visits to the principle's office if my son wraps his mind around it. Can adults do the same? Actually, in a span of 24 hours count how many times your focus is on others. The problems occurs when we finish observing and involve ourselves through opinion, comments and/or discussions of others business.

Call it human nature to some degree that we cannot stay in our own business. It's a trait intrinsic to us to be inquisitive and explore. But we can establish boundaries on a personal level to stay in our own business. Do you really need to know your neighbors salary or an acquaintances relationship story? No, but finding out certain things about others drives our curiosity and makes us want to get in their business.

MYOB is really easier said than done but attainable to some extent. Does it really matter that your neighbor's salary is less than yours and that an acquaintance is lucky in love. What matters is you, really! It's the message I spew daily to my boys hoping they we get it.

It's been a while......

It's has been quite a number of days since I posted any items due to the lack of time, hmmm. My day begins quite early or used too. Normally, I am up just before six am, shower, let my hair air dry somewhat. My hair is very thick and takes 15 minutes to blow dry so I shower early and let it room dry so by time I make my way to dress and fancy up for the day, it takes only five minutes to blow dry. Since leaving my job last year, my routine morphed into a late sleeper, 7 am, at best leaving little or no time to write in blissful peace and quiet. Once 7:30 rolls around the boys are up and Hot Husband is on his way to work. Some days I am out the door with the boys. As most moms know life is quite hectic between 4pm and 9pm with preparing dinner, homework, baths, laundry, the list goes on. By time I have time to myself it's 9:30pm, 10pm. I tried a couple of times to write in bed with my laptop or note pad to no avail, my eyes slowly close, nodding off several times before calling it quits and going to bed.

So I am basically blaming my busy life as a mom and wife, aaagghhhh. That reminds me of Miranda in the Sex in the City movie, using her career, her son and her husband as an excuse for her woes.

But it's not only that, there are times when everything is perfect except the words and ideas do not flow. So, today, I am going to look for ways to stay motivated and find time during my day to jot down some of my ideas.