She Likes Purple

March recap

March was a bitch. Albeit one of those bitches you can't help but love. Like Pink or Martha Stewart.

We got some news that bummed us out, but we're feeling confident (crazy?) that things will eventually be fine. Even if "fine" means living in denial. You do what you must. I also got a new writing gig at The Stir, and I love it. I LOVE IT IN ALL CAPS. (If you haven't added my posts' feed to your readers, you should.)

Style Lush continues to impress me. Case in point, I had lunch with Natalie (one of the SL writers) the other day, and afterward I thought: she's ridiculously stylish. And not just in the perfectly-put-together, hefty-price-tag-wearing way, but in the comfortable-in-her-own-skin way. She owns herself, that was clear, and helping you own who you are is my entire goal with the site. So, yes, I love it over there. Hopefully you do too.

We went meatless this month, and it was actually pretty doable if you're asking me. If you're asking Mike, it's a torture tactic the U.S. government should look into. He whined his way through the entire thing even though the entire thing was his idea. (That's a little peek into my life. Feel for me.) Every time I made something, he would say, "This would be better with a side of steak." But, we managed, and we're better for it, I believe that. We tried a lot of new things (some new things gave us food poisoning, ahem). We challenged ourselves. I like how that feels and hope to give up something again soon that I didn't think I could do without, but come to find out, I can. I can do a lot I didn't once think I could.

Like run a 5K. Man, that feat still makes me smile. I'm proud of myself, you should know. Doing things that make you feel like you can conquer the world or, more realistically, your life's to-do list? Yeah, that's not a bad way to go through life.

Then there's Kyle. Oh, you guys. He's the best. He's clapping and blowing kisses and he makes monster sounds when you say, "make your monster sounds!" And he can count to one (granted that's just pointing, but whatever), and he is becoming obsessed with books. We read Brown Bear, Brown Bear 97 times in a row, and I think he likes the blue horse best. He's still a shrimp who'd rather crawl all over the place than attempt to walk. Whatever you want, buds. You have your whole life to master walking. And when you crawl, you can see the ground better and the ground is where old pieces of English muffin live. He went through a pretty strong mommy phase this month and can I just say: IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME. He no longer wants his papa 24 hours a day, and it's nice to no longer have to constantly remind him why he should love me best. He also unloads the dishwasher and likes chocolate. 

He's still the very best part of each and every month.

For April, I'm going to get creative with gift giving, and I can't wait to surprise friends and strangers with nice things, even if those nice things aren't things at all.

I'm also hosting a girl's dinner this month and we're going to an Art's Festival and I'm gearing up for my next 5K. I also hope to get a really tight grip on our budget and the state of our house. See, our house looks like a crazed elephant ran through it most of the time. And I hate that! Maybe we'll take a stab at this "spring cleaning" thing everyone talks about.

I'm also making crab cakes this month.

And since it's finally (FINALLY!) spring, we're going to get outside, go to the parks near our house, drive with the windows down and get eaten alive by mosquitoes. Texas is annoying year round, turns out.

So, spill it, what are you looking forward to in April?

Crab cakes

I'm so lame. I'm publishing an entire post about crab cakes. I bet you're a little embarrassed to know me right now.

Moving on. One of my 2010 To-Do List items is to make crab cakes (sidebar!). Aside from Mike's mashed potatoes and maybe a perfect cupcake, they're my favorite food. But unlike sex or pizza, you actually can have a bad crab cake. I don't want my first (hand-cooked) crab cake experience to be bad!

Neither does Mike. He puts up with a lot of my experimenting in the kitchen, but he'd sure like to know he's getting something delicious for dinner.

Do you have an incredible crab cake recipe? Do you know of one you can link to? So far, I'm leaning toward trying the Barefoot Contessa's recipe. She's from prime crab country after all.

But, still. You are the smartest people I know. If anyone can trump the Barefoot Contessa, it's you.

(Also, we're staring down our last Meatless March day. I'm doing just fine but I'm pretty sure Mike is going to have a cheeseburger for breakfast on Thursday. His words today: "I'm over this crap." Anyway, I'll write about our meatless month soon.)

All great success stories start with food poisoning, I think

So, food poisoning. That was one hell of an unexpected curve ball of the weekend. The weekend -- in case you didn't know -- when I had planned to run my first 5K. The 5K I had been training for since early January.

Mike lovingly brought Kyle to have lunch with me on Friday and since we're 1) off meat for March and 2) trying to save every last penny we can, we decided to split some spinach and mushroom enchiladas.

Listen closely: eating vegetables will bring you nothing but actual pain.

We both woke up Saturday morning, hunched over in pain and, well, hunched over the toilet, too, if I'm being straight with you. I was supposed to leave for Austin (where the 5K was happening) hours later and I didn't know how I was supposed to do that. Or how I was supposed to leave Mike (still hunched over himself) to care for Kyle.

I decided to go anyway. Even if I had to crawl across the finish line, I wanted to finish. It wasn't how I wanted this weekend to go down, no, but I wouldn't let that stop me from strapping on my shoes and finishing, somehow.

And, people, I was convinced "somehow" would include lots and lots of walking and lots of lots of kicking myself for those damn enchiladas.

I felt better by the time I got to Austin, but I didn't feel great. Not even close. But, still, finishing. That was my goal.

I woke up at an ungodly hour this morning, an hour I don't want to ever see again, quite honestly. My stomach was killing me, but I couldn't tell if it was lingering enchilada issues or nerves. At that ungodly hour with that knotted-up stomach, I could have easily been talked out of running. You could have suggested just about any alternate activity, and I would have jumped at it. Doing the dishes? Sure! Laundry? Bring it! Tax paying? Sounds fun! But, I was running with some friends in a relay, and not one suggested doing anything but getting in the car and going to do what I had been training to do for months. Damn them, I kept thinking.

When we got to the race, we had some down time, so we stretched and shivered. Funny, it's colder before the sun rises. Who knew! Also: runners are an annoyingly perky bunch. There was far too much chattering at 6:30 am for my taste.

I was the first in the relay (each relay runner did the same 5K course), and until the gun went off I wasn't sure how it was going to unfold. I was talking nicely to myself: do what you can, it's OK if you walk, just finish just finish just finish. 

And I repeated your running advice to myself over and over. I started off sloooooowly. I started off so slowly, speed walkers were zooming right by. But I didn't get discouraged. I didn't get frustrated. I just kept going.

I ran the entire damn time.

I know! I was shocked too!

The first mile was a breeze in that I didn't want to die. Success! The second mile was tougher in that dying wasn't an unreasonable thought. Also, I couldn't shake these two seven-year-old kids. Children! Giving me a run for my money. So, mile two wasn't my favorite. The third mile got a lot better because I was close! People were starting to cheer! I hadn't puked once! The seven-year-olds were in my dust!

I sprinted to the finish and felt as fantastic as I can remember feeling apart from giving birth. And this time there were no stitches in my crotch! And there were also bagels at the race. That's one thing Kyle's birth was missing: carbs.

I have to thank Julie personally for suggesting Melissa Etheridge's "I Run for Life" as the perfect finish line song because it was just that. Also, to Lizzie, for suggesting I repeat some motivating words to myself throughout. Other than all the great advice and all the training and the incredible atmosphere, this is what I credit with helping me check off this huge goal. For the entire three miles I repeated the same thing, over and over and over.

I said this:

I am a runner.

**

Thank you so much for all your support and encouragement and faith the last few months. You were a huge part of this, you have no idea, and I wish I could have gathered you all there at the finish line to celebrate together. 

I'm already planning my next one for May.

Also, I got to have lunch with Natalie after the race, and it was one of those amazing couple hours that restored my faith in the Internet. She is adorable and funny and refreshing and she was a perfect person to toast my success with.

More on motherhood

Leah started a great conversation the other day. Boiling it down, the question is this: what do you say to a mother who is having a hard time with the adjustments of being a new mom. (Or a mom to a newborn; it's not just hard the first time, I suspect.)

You could say,

I am thinking of you. I am here for you. Would you like one shot of vodka in your martini or two? Go take a nap, I've got this covered. Where's your laundry detergent so I can do this load of whites? You look fantastic. You are the perfect mom for him/her. What's your favorite restaurant so I can pick up dinner? It gets so much better and it'll change from hard to easier like that. You're doing everything right. Your son/daughter is beautiful. It's hard for all of us, in so many ways. I'll be in the kitchen, doing the dishes. Eat this cupcake.

You shouldn't say:

It wasn't hard for me, so I can't understand where you're coming from (making a new mom feel like a pod person isn't nice, no matter how well-meaning it is). Your baby may just be more difficult than others. Have you tried rocking him/her? Did you talk to your pediatrician? (new moms are overwhelmed, but they're not stupid) Call me if you need anything! (she won't, you call her) We'll get together when you're feeling more like yourself. You probably just need to calm down. Relax! What's wrong with him/her? He/She's sure mad about something!

I can look back at my early new-mom experience and see it with a lot of clarity. I can see we went through a normal couple months of adjusting to life with a colicky baby. I had some downright horrible days back then, but there was a lot of good, too. It was normal, it was tough. It made me want to punch anyone who got to leisurely nap the afternoon away, but it also made me want to be a better person to other new moms.

I still get twitchy and sad when I think of all the people in my life who avoided me or maybe enjoyed -- even if just for a slight speck of a moment -- that they had easier babies and easier experiences. People who inadvertently made me feel guilty, incapable, ill-equipped instead of loved and supported. I don't fault you (or anyone) if you had a blissful, completely-different experience. God, I wouldn't want anyone to struggle. But first-hand knowledge isn't a prerequisite for being there for someone.

I feel like I'm rocking motherhood lately. I love it in a brand new way. I'm good at it, and I don't mind saying that. Not perfect, let's not get crazy, but I'm confident that I'm the best lady for this job, and I wasn't always (confident, that is). I can multi-task like I majored in it and I can get smiles and laughs out of him better than I can find cute shoes online. It's just great. And this new-found peace and happiness has given me a renewed surge of passion for reminding all new moms they're not alone and that they're plenty perfect as is.

A New Girl wrote this recently, and I wrote this part out and keep it in my purse:

"A bonfire into which we threw our expectations, our assumptions. And the blaze imprinted itself on my ideas about and my experience of new motherhood." 

Expectations will destroy you, I've learned that the tough way. You expect roses on your birthday and even though there are daisies waiting, you're disappointed. You expect motherhood to be soft and sweet, like the Rice Krispies commercials. Then your head explodes at 2 am after an hour of mystery baby screaming and you think, didn't expect that. Burning expectations, throwing them to the wolves and letting them get torn apart, bit by bit, is freeing. There's freedom in carving out your own way in life, instead of waiting for the life you think you deserve to present itself to you.

I spent the first year burning down what I thought motherhood was going to be since it wasn't that at all. And what's now being rebuilt in its place is shockingly beautiful.

I've decided to start a mom's group in my area. I don't know what this means, exactly, but I know I need to do this. I need to form a community of moms, a group of strong women who are there for one another and there for each other's kids. I know I need to babysit more often for moms who don't have family here. I know I need to send dinners and notes and thoughts to new moms more often.

I feel like becoming a mother gave me a calling and not just to raise a beautiful boy into a beautiful man but to be there for all those beautiful moms who may have a hard time seeing in themselves what we're all seeing in them.

Things/Folks You Probably Love But I Don't

Blatantly stealing this from Elizabeth. Creativity and midnight do not go hand-in-hand.

Brad Pitt

Potato salad

Marble countertops (also stainless steel appliances despite owning them)

The Sopranos

Martinis

Twitter fights

Gratuitous punctuation

Mad Men

Basil

Basketball

Florida

Gardening (I want to like it!)

Angelina Jolie

Ice cream (I like it, I just don't love/ever crave it)

Dancing with the Stars

LOL speak (funny on cat photos, not as funny in my inbox)

Leggings

Hating Kristen Stewart (I find her endearing! I don't know why!)

Also, hating Rachael Ray (although if you do hate her, at least bother to spell her name right)

Harry Potter anything

Dickens

Coffee

Making my bed

Catching up with Noah

Hey, guys, here's my nephew!

It's been awhile since I've mentioned Noah (shame on me), but you can read a little more about him here and here.

Yesterday, my sister told me Noah asked her for cookies after dinner. COOKIES, NOT COOKIE, you see. Two, not one. Rachel told him he could only have one, that's just what being a kid is all about. So, my almost-four-year-old nephew said:

"How about this. How about I put two cookies on my plate. I'll eat one and then we can see if you've changed your mind."

If it's any indication, this blog will get much funnier in a couple years when Kyle's his age.

29 Days of Giving

Giving isn't selfless, not really, and I know that. We give because it makes us feel good, among other reasons, and there's nothing wrong with that. Making someone's day better is fun, and we should relish the act of giving for all the reasons we're motivated to do it.

When I found this site/idea, 29 Days of Giving, I was inspired. Mainly because it's not encouraging straightforward buying a gift and handing it over but about giving of yourself, your time, your energy. That's so much more meaningful than something picked up at Target.

(Although, who doesn't like Target gifts?)

Mike and I are on a tight budget and we're tightening up even more come April, but that doesn't mean life has to end or giving has to cease. I can give a card, a few hours of my time, a cup of coffee, my place in line. See, when you start getting creative, we all could give more, right?

So, I'm doing this in April. I'll keep track for myself, just to be sure I'm doing what I say I'm doing. This will also help with my 2010 goal to let good things motivate me more often. I think I spent an entire year in college motivated by fear and stupid boys. Even though life doesn't necessarily get easier as we get older (what with the debt and the mortgage and the sleepless nights), it does get more refreshing. Especially when motivated by the desire to make my life and the lives of friends better.

If you plan to do this, I'd love to know. It's just plain nice to see adults doing good things. 

And you can rest assured one gift will be a glass of champagne to myself. It's been a long 40 days.

5K Advice

I hate unsolicited advice. Probably more than the average person because, quite frankly, I suffer from Youngest Child Syndrome. I'm the youngest (of my mom's kids) and I'm the youngest cousin and I'm the youngest in Mike's immediate family and I was the last to have a baby on both sides. I feel like I'm forever trying to prove I know what the hell I'm doing, so when anyone tries to give me advice, I get stabby. I CAN DO IT, THANK YOU.

Even when I can't.

But what I'm about to ask does not apply to the above because I genuinely want your help. Seriously, I'll get mad if I find out you had advice to give and sat on it. 

If you've ever run a 5K, what do you wish you had known going in? And, as a sub-question, if you're a regular runner, what's the one song that would push you over the finish line?

I could really use the advice. For once.

Grace in Small Things: Take Two

I need perspective again. 

Kyle's teething (well, we think; he could just be practicing his imitation of a raging asshole) and it snowed (!!!) this weekend and our budget is so tight it resembles the cast of Jersey Shore's clothes. I'm just ... wound up, and I hate feeling this way. I hate when stress trumps calm and life forces me out of living in denial. I hate when I snap and stomp and do my own very convincing imitation of a raging asshole.

Sigh.

So, some good things. There are always good things.

1. Mike let me sleep in this morning. I won't tell you what time I woke up, but it's later than I've gotten up this whole year, and that includes the one night we were away from Kyle in College Station. I woke feeling like I could take on the world. That feeling subsided five minutes later when Kyle's teething screams made my ears bleed.

2. Family grocery shopping at the newly-opened and super-fancy Whole Foods in Dallas.

(Mike's back to working during the week, which is part of the financial blahs I referred to a couple weeks ago. It's not financially ideal for us but there are always silver linings, and grocery shopping together is one of ours.)

3. These Poetic License shoes. I can't buy them but just knowing they exist is enough. Also, they're on the short list of things I buy once I rob that bank win the lottery.

4. I saw Natalie Friday night. She makes me feel better, about everything, and whenever I'm around her I'm reminded why one of my wants for Kyle is for him to find a best friend early in life. Having someone in your corner for all of it is indescribable.

5. Ky got new shoes. I've been waiting a long time for a baby boy in some Chuck's.

 

What are you happy about right now?

For her

I talked about my weight again this week at The Stir. Weight-talking is apparently my new thing. How many times can I awkwardly tell you how much I weigh? Turns out, many times! So, if you read my post over there or follow along with the MamaPop Biggest Loser Challenge, you'll know I've lost 19 pounds since January 1st.

(Whoo, right?!)

The last few months have been so normal. Or, at least what I always imagined normal weight-loss to be like. I've worked out, eaten less, pushed myself outside of my comfort zone by running, cooking interesting and healthier things, and replacing all that champagne with water (fine, Diet Coke). I've become more conscious of what I eat and why and I actually enjoy sweating off the stress of the day (ahem, most of the time). This is how you lose weight, no-brainer information, I know. But. Well. See. I've never really lost weight normally, without hang-ups or obsessions or full-blown throwing up my meals in empty parking lots because my mom took the locks off the bathroom door.

I can joke about eating disorders, that's how distanced I am from my own, but it still makes losing weight normally and healthily such a damn novelty to me. I think that's the coolest part of all this: I'm actually doing this the right way, without going crazy along the way. See, it really isn't about being skinny. I've been skinny. I've been really skinny. I've been intervention-from-people-who-care-about-me skinny. I know what losing weight and being skinny feels like, but I usually let it cost me my sanity.

For a long time my sanity seemed like such a small price to pay.

I'm finally doing something I've always wanted to do: I'm losing weight but keeping myself.

I run my first 5K next weekend and although I'm just terrified -- will I be able to do it without stopping? will I enjoy it? WILL MY LUNGS POP OUT MY MOUTH AND RUN OFF? -- I'm also proud, thrilled, humbled.

There's only one person I'll run for next weekend and that's the girl who spent six years trying to hang onto a waist size even if it killed her, who actually thought it killing her would prove she was good at it. The girl who didn't care about the words "healthy" or "strong" or "goals" and only cared about the word "thin." Maybe the words "too thin," actually. She was lost and she was broken and she was crazy, and she finally deserves someone doing something just for her, even if it's seven years too late.

Question game: Pieces of overrated crap

At MamaPop today, TwoBusy wrote a gem of a post on overrated Best Picture winners and pointed out how sometimes the Academy translates best to mean not best at all, not even good. (He did another version last week, too.)

I love this topic.

My favorite line from today's post was this:

"Look. I know that something like a billion people saw and loved Titanic, again and again and again. Here's the thing: YOU WERE ALL WRONG."

I hated Titanic. HATED. IT. How do you turn such a historically important event into a three-hour-long cheesefest? And how did James Cameron convince the world (and the Academy!) it was good? I was also reminded that it won Best Picture the same year Good Will Hunting came out. Seriously, if you've seen both those films and think Titanic is/was the better of the two, I may need a moment to say bad things about you behind your back.

But, seriously, I love nothing more than to talk about movies (or really anything that will allow me to use my Riled Up voice), so I wanted to open this up to you:

What's the most overrated movie you've ever seen?

Just like that

For today, I only have this:

 

He helped me unload the dishwasher last night, handing me each thing sweetly and determined. On the one hand, I hope he never stops loving that task. On the other, when did he become a boy, capable of helping me do anything? It feels like it happened when I went to check the mail or had my back turned. With the weather, it feels like, or while he napped. Just like that.

Just like that.

Just hand him the medal

Since Kyle came into this world, a short year ago, we've dealt with:

- two months of colic

- possible reflux

- a half dozen ear infections (we find out TODAY if we get a golden ticket to the ear, nose and throat doctor; whoo!)

- a week-long stomach virus that made him lose nearly two pounds and made us do an extra 300 loads of laundry

- Bronchialitis that sent a nebulizer home with us on Christmas Eve

- pink eye 

- swine flu (albeit a mild version, since he already had one round of the vaccine)

- enough congestion to get him recommended to an allergist, a full year before most kids get recommended

- more than two fevers that reached 105 

- at least a dozen fevers that were between 101-104 degrees

- a mystery choking episode that resulted in a limited diet until he hit a year old

- two ER trips

- one weekend urgent care trip

You see where I'm going with all this, don't you? He's sick again.

Whoever's fashioning the medal for The Sickest Baby on the Block award, Kyle's favorite color is red, fyi. I can make jokes because, come on, it's comical! So many co-pays! So many doses of Motrin! So many nights when we pause the TV because is that noise he's making a 1) hacking cough 2) barfing over the side of the crib 3) fever-induced crying or 4) ALL OF THE ABOVE!

I mean, it's funny because it's so not funny. It's terrible. The kid deserves a break. The kid's parents deserve a break. I've heard a lot of people say, "the sicker the baby, the healthier the child" and if that's not the case, I'm finding all those people and kicking them. Perhaps watch your tongue when you make promises to overtired mothers, OK?

I have to think this is all an exercise in patience and zen mastering (or karma's funny way of telling me all those times I lied to my mother in high school did not go unnoticed). I mean, eventually you get better at handling a sick baby. If you do anything as many times as we've handled a sick baby, you get good at it. I no longer get sick to my own stomach when he's sick to his. And that's probably a parenting skill I needed to master, a parenting skill that comes easy to many of you in a way it never came easy to me. I have enough perspective now to know there's even a silver lining to a sick baby although I'm looking at it through bleary, exhausted eyes.

*****

In better, more worthy-of-celebrating news, I'm now contributing to CafeMom's blog The Stir. You can follow my posts here (and add my posts to your feed reader here). Please say hi over there. No one likes to hear crickets chirping!

On bloggers and celebrities and celebrity bloggers

Scene: kitchen, making dinner

Mike: So, where's this recipe from?

Me: Smitten Kitchen.

Mike: (look of fear)

Me: No! That's a good thing! She's famous!

Mike: Famous! I've never heard of her.

Me: That's because she's a blogger.

Mike: I know plenty of famous bloggers. That one chick was on TV.

Me: You only know that because I told you about her as I was watching it.

Mike: Good point.

Me: You don't even know regular famous people!

Mike: Oh, whatever, yes I do.

Me: Who's Robert Pattinson (I'm ashamed he is the first celebrity I thought of)

Mike: The author!

Me: Do you mean James Patterson?

Mike: Hmm, maybe. Was the other guy on Survivor?

Me: Yeah, baby, Robert Pattinson was on Survivor.

Screw worrying, we have spoons!

Before Kyle turned a year, I worried a lot about his milestones, his skills, his language, his everything. I don't know what happened, but something shifted when he hit a year old. I don't know if it was realizing I wasted a lot of his first year worrying and that's a year I'll never get back or if I'm just becoming more comfortable with motherhood. Hey, after a year of being someone's mother, I'm no longer a total newbie at this gig. Regardless, I've been enjoying him a lot lately, not hung-up on what he's achieving or how he's doing or IS HE LEARNING, OMG!

I'll tell you, it's a much nicer way of going about my day.

(Although, whoa, has he turned cranky lately. Fighting bedtime, throwing fits. STOP ACTING LIKE YOUR FATHER, KYLE.)

I remember telling Mike a while ago that we should let Kyle hold his own spoon whenever he wanted. EVEN IF HE MAKES A MESS! IT'S GOOD FOR HIM!, I said all panicky and stressed. Mike looked at me funny (spoiler: Mike looks at me funny a lot) and then said, "Babe, it's OK, don't worry about it." (spoiler: Mike tells me not to worry about things a lot).

I came home from work tonight and Mike told me he had taken some pictures and videos of Kyle playing with a spoon at dinner, and when I watched them I couldn't stop laughing, and it had nothing to do with his grasp or his strength or his skill.

But at his joy.

See for yourself:

Spoiler: joy trumps everything else, a lot.

Can you offer adoption help?

I have strong (positive) feelings about adoption, as I've mentioned before. When I read this post from Swistle, I wanted so badly to have information to provide this woman who wants to be a mom so badly. But I don't. I haven't adopted (yet) and I know very little about the process. I hate being of no use in a situation like this.

But what about you? Do you have any information AT ALL you can share about adopting, domestically or internationally? I'd really appreciate if you would.

Please go read Swistle's post and leave any help you can in her comments section.

Grace in Small Things: Take One

Schmutzie kicked off the Grace in Small Things campaign as a "daily reminder to take notice of the positive things we tend to overlook." I've always loved the sentiment, but the idea seemed too big for me. This is hilarious, I know, considering the name of the project. But I tend to be a Capricorn in one very specific way: if I can't do something perfectly, I don't do it at all. I couldn't figure out a way to do this every single day without disrupting the rest of my blog, so I didn't participate, even though I wanted to.

God, I'm ridiculous.

Anyway, this is my year, no matter how much the Universe would like to convince me otherwise. Hey Universe, you're not going to win this one, so quit your nonsense!

A reader suggested I make a list of five things I'm grateful for, to gain perspective in light of this crappy week, and her tip reminded me of Schmutzie's project.

Here we go:

1. Yesterday, I took the day off. I shouldn't have, but I did. After spending most of the morning wallowing, Mike said, "Screw it, let's take Kyle to the zoo."

 

It was grand.

2. Emailing Elizabeth. I can tell her anything and she doesn't think I'm a bad mom/wife/person. Just today I told her my kid was being an asshole. If that offends you, I promise not to email you the next time I need to vent. Because, really, that's just the tip of the iceberg, people.

3. Modern Family. Are you watching this show? Oh, it's the best! If you're not, you should set those DVRs immediately.

4. These lyrics: "I let the day go by / I always say goodbye / I watch the stars from my window sill / The whole world is moving and I'm standing still." I love this song because it reminds me, always, that life never waits for you to figure your shit out. You've got to keep up and hang on.

5. I ran 2.5 miles yesterday, and it felt incredible (albeit not easy). That's the farthest I've ever run. In my life. (Pause for applause.) I'll run my first 5K in a little over two weeks. Who wants to meet me at the finish line with diamonds? Or cinnamon rolls?

You can always tell me what you're grateful for. Sometimes reading your comments is the best part of my day, second only to these guys:

 

Although, not the lizard. I mean, I'm sure he's nice and all (although when I say nice, I think I mean not nice even a little bit), but I imagine he doesn't snuggle nearly as well as the two on the left.

I like this

Yes, I gave up alcohol for Lent like a crazy person, but that doesn't mean I don't still appreciate the hell out of a good glass of champagne.

Or, champagne-related things.

As soon as I can, I'll buy this for a blank wall in my house.

Even if that's not until 2011.

Everything will eventually be fine

We got some crappy news today. News of the financial variety. Economy, you can start stroking my hair and rubbing my shoulders any day now. My first thought upon hearing the news was: oh hell no, this is not the year for this, which is kind of ridiculous, I know. Life isn't sectioned off into years, not really. Good and bad and glorious and awful things are all jammed into every year, aren't they?

My main goal for this year was to become the best version of myself and all those numbered items in my sidebar are specific things I've always wanted to do yet have continually put off because I get in my own way too often. I never made a goal to have a smooth-sailing kind-of year (hindsight, damn you) because that's just not very realistic.

Ultimately, these damn things just happen, can't avoid them. It's how we roll with them that matters. Or something obnoxiously upbeat like that.

See, I'm trying to stay positive, look on the bright side, blah blah cheesefest blah, but I'm also kind of scared. It just seems like every time we get a few steps ahead and can plan a trip away or updates on our house or a nice pair of jeans, something comes along and pulls the rug out from under us and we're all, PEACE OUT SANTA FE, HOPE YOU'RE STILL THERE NEXT YEAR! Also, it's so much easier to go without before having kids. Kyle likes to eat and expects his parents to give him food (he's so DEMANDING, my god).

It's just tough, is what I guess I'm trying to say, and it's tough for so many of us, I know. This is just a tough time END OF STORY and we're all just crossing our fingers and saying some prayers and crunching some numbers and hoping the upswing is right around the corner. I didn't go to the gym tonight, even though I originally planned to, and I didn't do any laundry like I originally planned to and.....that's how I deal with problems. I just freeze. And this is not how I wanted this year to be. I've spent a long, long time holding my breath for various reasons and no matter how scared I am right now, I'm not going to hit the pause button. I just can't.

Anyway, no real way to wrap this post up. We got some shitty news and we're trying to figure some things out, and we're trying to stay positive even though we're a little scared, too.

But what I need from you is a little cheering up, a little distracting. I want to read good things in this comment section, so tell me something you're celebrating this month. Anything at all! Give me a little perspective, OK? Because the truth is, we're fine. We'll be fine. Everything's fine even if it doesn't quite feel fine right at this moment.

More good than bad, I hope

Kyle and I went to Tulsa this weekend, to visit my grandma, and we had a really nice (albeit too-quick) visit, but Tulsa has this sort of irritating quality: it's five hours away. I remember it being much, much closer from my past visits, but that's probably because I was reading R.L. Stine in the passenger seat while my mom did the driving. Kyle was a champ in the car, so I can't quite complain except oh wait yes I can. FIVE HOURS IS A LONG TIME AT THE WHEEL SO HELP ME.

When we got back, I was just exhausted. Kyle didn't sleep that great while we were away, so when it came time to take a nap upon our return and he FLAT-OUT REFUSED, I got, well, let's just say upset, OK? He was angrily crying when he should have been peacefully sleeping, so I stomped into his room, picked up his thrown pacifier from the ground, laid him back down and snarled, "IT IS NAP TIME, WE ARE NAPPING." Nothing quite like a stomping, angry mother to put you in the napping mood.

There was no napping, from either of us, but you saw that coming, didn't you?

He's asleep now, and of course he's already forgotten about my little fit caused by his little fit, but I've been beating myself up over it since I laid him down for bed. He won't always be so little and he won't always have such a quick-to-erase-things memory. He'll eventually remember when I lose my cool. Eventually, it'll matter to both of us the way it matters to just me now.

I always find it funny to think of what we remember from our childhoods. I remember the strangest things, from a really early age. I remember both through-the-roof moments and ridiculously sweet ones, too, and there's no real rhyme or reason to what stands out or why. I imagine it'll be the same for Kyle.

He'll remember the good with the bad, and no matter how much I'd prefer there to be none of the latter, there will be.

All I can hope, I suppose, is that there will be much, much more of the former.