Ok, so that didn't work.. but it was still kind of fun.....

I commute about an hour and 15 minutes to and from work Monday through Friday.  My drive is, for the most part, pleasant.  I live in New Hampshire; we don’t have the horrendous traffic that other states have, generally speaking.   But saying this, I do hit a little pocket of traffic each day, more so at night than in the morning.  It is the kind of traffic that even with you anticipating it; you still go from a healthy 55 mph to a screaming stop in 2.4 seconds. And I hate it.  And every day I grumble about this inconvenience and vow to figure out a different way home that won’t take me too far off course. 

But am I in that big a hurry?  No, not really.  Some days I am rushing to get home to run someone somewhere, but most days I am just driving to get home, nothing more. And am I tied up for ½ hour or greater?  Honestly, no, not even.  It might be a 15 minute delay, that’s truly it..  So why does it annoy me so badly?  Thinking back on it, I can only assume that it is because it is something that I don’t want to happen and when it does, I get annoyed and yes, sometimes I pout.  I had a plan laid out and this was a deviation from my “perfect getting home for the night plan”.  

Something as simple as traffic patterns made me realize how many times we lay out a plan, perfect in our mind and then how often something happens to derail us from our anticipated completion.  As adults, we normally have to smile and move on, maybe sometimes we hide in the bathroom and throw a minor tantrum..  How many times have we had a perfect birthday party, outing, or even holiday mapped out and then the reality is anything but.  We are disappointed.  Sad.  Sometimes angry that the pieces didn’t fall into place the way we WANTED it to be.  And rather than stop and think, wow, even though today might not have been great, it wasn’t horrible; we tend to focus on what went wrong.  Not: Gee, I did still spend time with people I love and that’s alright in the grand scheme of things. That even when it all and out SUCKS, it was still time spent with family, with friends, with a roof over our head, etc.  That, wow, our “failure” (our word) is still better than other’s “successes”.  We don’t do this.  We are disappointed; we let it ruin the event, the day, the situation. 

Yesterday Gabe had to come to my office as he didn’t have school.  At almost 8 years old, he’s easy to have at work with me.  I can plug him into a computer and he gets free reign at his games without having to share with his sister.  I don’t bother him.  I leave him alone for the most part and he loves it.  Once in a while I feed him.  People come into the office and coo over him as some of my employees have been a part of my world since before Gabe was a baby and they remember him.  Sometimes I stalk him and take charming pictures of him in his awesome office swivel chair.  He tolerates my interruptions and the day goes on. 

He, like most children his age, is obsessed with Minecraft.  Digressing a bit from my original point, I have to share a lunch outing we just had.  I met a friend with a 13 year daughter for lunch.  As we sat at the table waiting for our food to arrive, Gabe and this young lady had a full on conversation, one people who finally meet after chatting online for months would be jealous to have, about Minecraft.  They volleyed back and forth, sharing information, secrets, tidbits, and any other little nugget of excitement that only a true fan could appreciate.  My friend and I stopped talking and watched, amused, at their exchange, one that erased an almost 5.5 year and gender difference.  And while, yes, Minecraft is screen time, I am realizing that it is oddly social as well in that they ALL talk about it.  Even shy children have something to say, to add to the conversation, something others WANT to hear.  It’s kind of cool..  It lends to the ability children have to see past obstacles and find a common happy note and run with it.

Back to my original point---Gabe has been asking for a box over the past week to make something to put his Minecraft books in.  He wants them to be showcased in a special manner, away from the other items in his bookshelf.  These books are with him all the time.  They are, I’ve learned, a MUST have item, well sought by his peers.  

I found a small box in the office and he happily set to work cutting it apart to create what he had in his mind’s eye.  He conquered my horrible office shears (NOTHING like the awesomeness that my sewing shears are) and taught himself how to successfully manage my tape dispenser (the end is sharp!  And the tape can bounce out…something I take for granted having used it for years).  He pieced his project together for about 45 minutes.  When he was finished, he proudly showed me and went to get a book to demonstrate how it works.  His creation was not only too narrow, it didn’t hold due to the scotch tape being too weak for the cardboard.  

It collapsed.  He looked at me, devastated.  Truly disappointed that this masterpiece he designed in his head didn’t work.  He grabbed up the pieces of cardboard and threw them away.  He gave me back the scissors and tape.  He looked at me, and although he was clearly upset and wiping his eyes a bit (oh, pierce my heart!  Honestly, he tried so hard), he says, OK, so that didn’t work…but that was still kind of fun.  I can see what I can do the next time, let’s figure this out.  Can you help me?  

YES..  yes, dear child.  We can figure this out.  We can regroup, come up with a plan, and try again! 

And so, tonight, while I sit in my traffic, rather than find annoyance that my plan was changed, I will accept and be happy that it gives me a few more minutes to listen to the radio and sing loudly and horribly to my favorite songs.  The next time I plan it out perfectly at work, for a birthday party, for a holiday, for my day off; I will remember that some of the best things in the world were a result of a “mistake”, a deviation off the plan.  And I will say, OK, so that didn’t work.. but that was still kind of fun. 

Run Run Ruldolph...Part 1

Finally!  It’s the holiday season YET again.  I am so excited this year for Christmas-which is amazing since I am excited for Christmas every year, so if I am saying I am excited already, you know I am at like 198.5% more excited than in years past.

This year is a year of all sorts of sorts…  I figure that this might be the last year of the FULL magic of the big man in the red suit for both of my children at the same time.  

Ellie is 4, she finally gets it.  She was riding the happy wave last year in Gabe’s wake, but this year, she is standing firm on her own about the awesomeness that is Christmas.  Her excitement could fuel a jet plane, nay, Santa’s sleigh itself.  She is ready, she is watchful and she’s determined to catch someone on Christmas Eve to incarcerate in her lair of babies and princess shoes.

Gabe is almost 8.  He’ll be a week shy of turning 8 on Christmas (Yup, New Year’s baby for those of you who don’t know know me), so I am sadly figuring this is his last year of shiny faced belief.  Who knows, he might be already questioning, but bless his heart, he hasn’t breathed a syllable of this to me. But, I am realizing that by next year, he’ll be watching me too closely.. he’ll start tracking my poor attempts at being sly and eventually catch me in a twisted explanation so convoluted that I have no hope of finding a way out without blowing my cover.  That and I am incapable of telling a good lie.  Santa’s suit has nothing on the amount of redness I turn while trying to weave a good yarn of halftruths.

So, I’ll revel in this maybe last year of unquestioned magic in my home.  And I will enjoy EVERY single moment of it. They will write books about me, perform seminars extolling the spirit to which I have festooned upon others.  It will be MAGICAL in my home, not only for my children, but for myself as well.   

I have my oatmeal bought, glitter ready and google eyes poised to make our Reindeer Food complete with Reindeer jars for easy storage.  I have been stockpiling on fun craft ideas to do on those boring December nights while we wait impatiently for The Grinch, Charlie Brown and Frosty to come on.  Our elves, Antoadio and Elfie (although, I am willing to lay money down that her name will become Elsa before this holiday is over), are preparing to return in a few weeks.  They have been preparing a special bag for each child to welcome themselves back to our home. I’m already scoping out fun places they can move to each night that will keep them safe from Abu or Oscar’s (helpful) paws.  I do have plenty of cinnamon ready, however, should they find themselves in someone’s hand, paw, or mouth- Our elves do not follow the path some of their peers do, though.  Our elves might be “boring” in comparison, but they choose not to be naughty (My children fulfill that requirement already!!) Instead they are mischievous in their hiding spots, sometimes bringing back a North Pole treat to let Gabe and Ellie know that Santa is watching through their eyes and is pleased.  

And I’m happy, so very happy this year.  I’m always happy, I know, but this year…again, the % is through the roof.  I have so many people in my life that I get to share my happiness with.  I have a baby niece on the way, although she’ll find us in time for St. Pat’s Day, not quite for Christmas, but the joy is still there.  I have new friends, family and LOVES to enjoy this season with.  It’s truly going to be a magical time.  I have so many wonderful plans, surprises and treats to share! 

Christmas has IT for me, the happiest and best time of year.  I promise to do it up proudly. Not over the top, just magical.  I know I’ve used that word a lot, but that is the only way I can sum up how I am feeling this year.  The pieces are in place at last and it’s time to make some memories…

To be continued!

Get A Grip

I’m feeling overly feisty today, so I’ll warn you right now…I might be biting, rude and downright evil in my blog post today. *** (see below) If you are sensitive, easily offended or just plain wimpish, I implore you.. stop reading.. Please.  Take your ball and go home because in this game, we are keeping score and charging outs.

First of all, before I launch into my rambling, I’d admit that I whine.  I do.  I am human, I want things, I can’t have them for whatever myriad reason exists, but I whine, I pout, I yearn… and then mostly, I either find a way to make it happen, or I GET OVER IT.  I move on.  I latch onto something else that I want, need, etc… 

I fully accept that I have made my bed and therefore it is mine to lie in. I did this. I didn’t wake up today, miraculously 40 (gasp) overnight, having gone to bed an awkward and knobby 12 year old.  NO, that didn’t happen.  I made decisions in my life, good and bad, that led me to the person I talk to in my mirror each morning.  Me.   I can bemoan that my decisions were enhanced by others, but until I have been gagged, bound and held at gunpoint with my finger on the button, I can blame no one else but myself for the actions in my own life.

See, it’s easy to say that… Try it.  It’s liberating.  It’s amazingly simple and not hard at all to make those words form in your mouth, then push the sound out and “paint the ceiling” with your voice.  (thanks Jim Harbor, KSC for that one)

Ok, where am I going with this?  I have a point and I will get to it.

Hypothetically, there are people in this world that live under this amazing (dis)illusion that things aren’t their fault.  Bad things happen, but they honestly hold no responsibility as to why “stuff just keeps happening to me”.   Such and such happened, but hey, not my fault… not my problem, not my issue.

YES, bonehead.  It IS your issue.  And sadly, sometimes it becomes MY problem.   My problem to clean up the mess, my problem to make the phone calls, email the people, scramble to handle it like I’m some less wealthy version of Olivia Pope (ooo, I love her).  

Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and fix it.  Quietly confide in a friend, a sister, a confidant if you must, but GET a GRIP.  Trust me, while people listen at first, eventually they will tune you out.  They will grow WEARY of you and your stuff.  You’ll find yourself talking to the walls and missing out on the fun stuff while you wallow in the pit of your own despair.  (quick, reference???!!??  Anyone???) 

I’ve extolled my love of facebook before.  Yes, I do love facebook.  I’ve found so many great friends, new and from “before”.  I’ve laughed at silly videos and cried when I’ve become witness to some of the sorrow and shame our society is capable of.  I’ve learned so very much, I’ve allowed myself to open up to others and share those I hold in my heart via pictures and anecdotes.   I’ve gotten frustrated in meaningful debates, but happily so as it makes me remember I am not only capable of my own opinion, but also feel strongly for something I believe in so much that I am willing to respectfully enter into witty and educated conversation with an adversary.  And I’ve reached out to my friends when I’ve just felt like poo and needed a quick pick me up.  But the one thing I try to remember is that my issues are NOT my friends issues to fix or solve.  My duty is not to discourage support in wallowing or self pity.  

I was told recently by someone, whose opinion I value incredibly, that I project myself to be “with it”.  I am shown publicly as a strong person.  I’ve been through a lot, but have my shit together.  And that is nice, it’s great that I am not a public whiner. Yay!!!  But, I don’t have it all together, I do fall apart.  But, it’s important to realize that I am good at keeping it in proper check. 

And I AM strong.. So much stronger than I was before.  If I were to measure the sheer amount of crap in my world, I’d like to think that, yes, I do have most of it together.. Yay me!  The parts that matter, truly matter, are under control.  My children are THRIVING.  They are happy, learning, succeeding.  I sleep soundly at night, I am tired but tired because I put in a long day at work and I EARNED my sleep.  I did that.  Yay me!  My cat is a freak of nature and afraid of his own shadow, but he is loving and sweet and will cuddle with me as long as he’s had enough food.. Yay me! (ok, that was to see if you were still reading)

I’m a work in progress.  And I need work.  I need to keep working.  I need to correct areas of my world, but guess what?  That is part of life and that is what I need to do.  I was given this human life to make the best out of it and I’ll do that.  You might hear me whine from time to time, but what you will never hear from me is, “it’s not my fault, I don’t know why this is happening to me”.  

So, get a grip.  Seriously.  Realize that the tiny, little piece of your world that seems to be so very horrible is NOTHING, absolutely nothing in comparison to how bad it truly and realistically could be.  Whine, but do it to the person in the mirror and then handle it.  Or at least try like the rest of us. 

***I did have a friend proof this for me, she said I am not evil.. Yay me!

Happy Feets

Driving home from work last night, I was playing my favorite driving game.  It’s called Scan.  I scan the dial, find a good song, camp there for a while until they no longer play music I like and then scan again.  I try not to play this game with a passenger next to me, they seem to get agitated and stare at me until I give up and settle on one station for the duration of the trip, good music or not.  The only rule of Scan is to sing, loudly and with purpose so that the music will know that you approve of it existing.

I love music.  I don’t play any instruments and my singing is really not something that should be heard outside of my shower or sanctity of my car, but I do love it.  I cannot think of a time, place, or event in my life that was not punctuated by music of some sort.  

Growing up I was given the fundamentals; Allman Brothers, Doobie Brothers, Crosby Stills Nash (and sometimes Young), Jethro Tull, Beatles, Moody Blues, Led Zepplin and The Who… My mom and dad agreed on some, not so much on others.   But it was always playing.  Later on in my childhood, maybe not as much, but those really early years (when my parents were probably all of 28 years old), music was a staple to how life was lived.  

I remember sitting looking the album covers, spread out on the floor (although I believe story is that I once danced on them, maybe shattering a few, I might have blocked that from acceptable memory).  They were so cool, opening up, lots of graphics, designs and color.  To this day, there are a few that stand out in memory—Songs from the Wood, Jethro Tull scared me to my core.  I do not know why looking at it now, but it freaked me out something fierce.  Eat a Peach, I loved it.  Question of Balance, I could stare at for hours.  

 

When I was in 7^th grade, we drove down to Florida in a motorcamper--  I don’t know if there were any other tapes or if my father only played Abbey Road because A: he really liked it or B: because my mother really did not like it, but when I think of this trip, I will always think of Abbey Road.  Over and over and over again.

A trip up to Long Lake in Maine years later, my father discovered Graceland by Paul Simon.  I can remember getting stuck on the high bridge in Portsmouth in traffic for what seemed to be hours.  We sat there in the back seat of my grandmother’s car (borrowed for the weekend because it had Air Conditioning!!), singing the “Uwhat uwat” parts of Diamonds on the Sole of Her Shoes-  for the first time on that trip, I think my brother, sister and I were in sync and not fighting over who touched whom. 

Billy Squier will always make me think of the dances at the Greenville Legion or Fire Station.  We were little kids then, but we thought we were so very cool.  Metallica, my entire 10^th grade  year of high school and my trip to France where I found French magazines with them plastered all over the covers (Lars Ulrich was my reason for being back then).  Rock Lobster; my summer at St. Paul’s School doing Shakespeare with the ASP.  Toad the Wet Sprocket, Phish, Grateful Dead, Tori Amos, Fleetwood Mac; my soundtrack to Keene State- 

Think of some of your favorite movies….what did you hear in your head?  For me, I heard the music that accompanied the movie.  In fact, I’d be hard pressed to find a movie where there isn’t some musical imprint that stays with me, popular or scored, it’s all there-  it builds that memory you have when you think of the movie. If you are like me, you go a bit further as to where you were when you first saw the movie, first heard the music.  I suppose this is why there are Oscars given out for Best Song/Musical Accompaniment, nail hit head, it’s valid, it matters.  

I love having music in my life, I can’t imagine how quiet and boring it would be without it.  I love passing my love onto my children, much like how my own parents did for me.  It warms my heart to hear my 3 year old belting out the words to Master of Puppets or listening to them fight over which song is “theirs”, much like how my brother, sister and I once did.   My friends and family all bring a wonderful and wildly eclectic musical arrangement to my world; I can see their faces when I listen to songs that are their songs.  In those images, I truly am happy in my soul all the way down to my feets..