I've made a monumental decision.

Using One Philly Daddy as my inspiration and muse, I've decided to give up chocolate for 2011. For those of you intimately aware of my eating habits and coping skills this is a big deal!

One Philly Daddy is giving up something in 2011, and it got me to thinking. Sweets and chocolate have long been something I enjoy but have no real control over. As a child my paternal grandmother would give us multiple shopping bags of candy at each holiday. Christmas was chocolate Santa's and boxes of candy canes. Easter was hollow bunnies, Peeps of all shapes and colors, peanut butter eggs, a giant chocolate coated coconut egg, with m&m's of the appropriate color for each of us. Sweets were not something we had in my house, so when they were around, we binged. I mean, really binged. What is probably an entire family's worth of sweets was ingested by each of us in a matter of days. At every holiday. For my entire childhood. How we handled the sudden influx of thousands of calories, I'll never know.

As an adult I managed to enjoy sweets and chocolate and solved my lack of self control by not having it around. But, still, when sweets are around, they are eaten with gusto.

Worse, I've realized lately that my choco-binges are becoming more and more emotionally driven. Rough day = chocolate. Used to be a few Hershey kisses would satisfy me. Recently, I think I could've polished off a one pound box of Ashers, if common sense didn't prevail. I've even torn the house apart in the wee hours of the night to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies (the mix from the store, I'm not that crazy...) And lunch at work, well, does a bag of Party Mix and the chocolate du jour sound healthy to you?

Here's the sad part. I hardly enjoy the chocolate anymore. Its not a treat, its not something special to be savored, I'm not sure I taste it. Its something to be shoved down my throat in massive quantities to distract me from whatever's going on that day.

And this year, there's been plenty to be distracted from. Merger at work, poor economy, motherhood (which I love, love, LOVE. But I still haven't figured out how to shower everyday that I am home with him. And forget working out, reading, shaving, switching out my summer clothes for winter clothes or any of those other luxuries...wouldn't change a thing, adore One Philly Son, but parenting, it's a smidge time consuming...)

So I'm giving up chocolate. But its also symbolic of a move toward greater health (more real food instead of the processed crap; time to exercise, meditate, or whatever it takes to make me feel healthy), peace (see again meditation, etc) and happiness (ahem, work situation). For reasons beyond my control, this past year has left me feeling invisible and tired (again, ahem, work). Its not a feeling I love. And I know that indulging in chocolate is really not facing the facts, confronting them and DOING something about it. Its sticking my head in the sand. Or in this case a family size bag of M&M's...with chocolate covered pretzels...and Oreos...well, you get the idea.

Not only is the chocolate not a good coping mechanism, it is not physically giving me the strength, focus or nutrients I need to live my life. There's a reason its not one of the food groups.

So I'm giving it up. Not just because its chocolate, but because of what it means....I'm actually looking forward to it. (For now. Ask me again Jan 3rd...)

I attended a training at work recently that involved an excercise writing our personal mission statement. The purpose was to create our professional mission statement, but I was intrigued. How often do we ponder our life in respect to goals, purpose, our MISSION?

I gave it a shot, and here it is:

My personal mission is to thrive in life with passion, purpose, and integrity; to provide a loving, joyful, fulfilling, peaceful, abundant existence for me and my family that pays the highest respect to each unique individual and their personally defined highest potential.

The beauty of a mission statement is that it can and should be examined and changed as needed to evolve with the situation. For now, I like this one for me.

So what's your personal mission statement?

I've been in a funk the past few days. I worked two long days Thursday and Friday last week, while battling a stomach flu which carried into this week (I think...killer headache and nauseous but nothing...happened, if you know what I mean). Then I had a long (but fun) day Saturday, including an overnight stay with One Philly Dad and One Philly Son with my sister and mother. First on Saturday we had a Holiday party (even if it was sort of depressing) where it was nice to catch up with folks I don't see often enough. Then an awesome 40th birthday party, complete with an Ace of Cakes cake. The day involved nearly as many hours of driving as it did of sleep.

Since then, we've taken it kind of easy - some grocery shopping, a nice family dinner out but nothing too strenuous. Still...

My post yesterday was hardly insightful or meaningful. I was just feeling blah.

I'm not sure if its that fact that I'd been reminded at the Holiday Party of just how hard some people have it, or the strange dichotomy of the hardship of the Holiday Party followed by the opulence of the birthday party, or just pure exhaustion... but I was in a funk.

Lucky for me, the clouds seem to be breaking and I can see a bit of (metaphorical) sun peaking through. I don't know if it was the bacon-cheeseburger with fries, the kick-boxing workout One Philly Daddy drug me through or finally getting caught up on some sleep that turned the corner.

Sometimes these things just happen.

Having a funk of a day and letting it ride itself out was a skill I had to learn. Having a parent with an unaddressed and untreated mental illness left me haunted for years...every mood and feeling needed to be evaluated to see if it signified my inevitable fall into (forgive the phrase) craziness.

If I could count the times One Philly Daddy has told me that everyone has down days, sad days, days when they feel fatter, stupider, uglier, poorer, (etc) than everyone else...well, I'd be counting pretty high.

So, in a truly ironic twist, these days, a funk is something of a victory. I'm sad, I'm bummed...I get over it.

How was your day?

I attended a holiday party this weekend. It was nice to catch up with people, but it was also a bit sad and depressing.

Of the maybe 15 people there 2 had been unemployed for months, 1 almost a year. One man's wife had left him after about 20 years of marriage. A few had health problems. A woman in her mid-thirties was preparing for her parents and grown brother to move into her townhouse as a result of economic issues. People tried to be optimistic and hopeful, but it was clear on their faces that life has been hard this past year.

I appreciate both their efforts to be positive and hopeful as well as their brutal honesty about how hard it has been.

As an adult this is the toughest and most far reaching "rough time" I can remember. Sure, I've known individuals and even families who've had a tough stretch with tragedy or not enough money or just painful sadness. But this is a time when the bad times seem to have affected more people than not.

I sure wish I could muster up some brilliant words of hope, but they all feel hollow right now.

I've always been a bit of a worrier. Professionals and those in the know call it catastrophizing. Essentially this means exaggerating the negative of a situation and expecting not just the worst, but an unrealistic made-for-TV, horrible, awful version of the worst. It means a lot of time spent afraid and worrying.

I've put a lot of work into not doing this, and continue to do so, as it can still my brain's "default" setting when tired or stressed (the normal kind). I used to think that if I expected and prepared for the worst, than I wouldn't be surprised or upset when it happened, and maybe I could see how to prevent it from happening. Preparing this way seemed like a "smart" and "safe" thing to do.

I recently spoke with my sister about the worries of pregnancy and motherhood. If you let it, the long list of foods not to eat, potential toxins in your home, things to improve your child's brain power, etc, etc, etc can really overwhelm and scare you. A lot. My god, the catastrophes that loom in parenthood!

I assured my sister that worrying comes with motherhood. One Philly Son is 15 months old, we have a video monitor so I can SEE and hear him at night and I still go in his room sometimes at night to check on him. Just to be sure that seeing him breathe and hearing him breathe aren't illusions, I go rest my hand on his chest to feel him breathe. (I also cover him back up, since he kicks his covers off a few times a night, then ends up sleeping in a tiny little ball, I assume because its warmer...so its practical AND somewhat irrational)

I told her that worrying and fear pre-baby are nothing compared to the potential worrying and fear post-baby. After a baby, the stakes are higher, the threats scarier, the horror stories more unimaginable.

But as I talked with her, I realized that the love and joy are far outweighing my fear and worry.
And that's really the important part, isn't it? Focusing on the love and joy (not just as it relates to babies, but everything)? Reaching out with two hands to hold on to it, regardless of the risk it brings? Trusting that it will all work out? And that if it doesn't, you'll have the strength and fortitude to handle it anyway?

In my experience, the love and the joy are what you remember when you look back on life events. The worrying and fear seem useless in the peace of hindsight, once everything has worked out. And after observing this over and over and over and over again in my own life, I decided to start expecting it to work out so that I could actually enjoy the "during" part of my life, instead of just as a happy flashback.

So in these hectic holiday times, with gloom and doom on the news and all around, try to imagine yourself as the you when all these worries have worked out. Imagine yourself seeing how everything you may be going through right now has led you to a better place, and see if some of your fear and worry transforms into love and joy.

Happy Holidays!

planning for the New Year

The new year approach-eth.

Yes, I know that's not a real word and I don't usually buy into the concept of starting something new or life beginning anew on the New Year. I've always sort of thought that if you wanted to get a new job, cut/dye your hair, find a boyfriend, lose/gain 10 pounds, etc you should just....you know...DO IT!

But One Philly Daddy and I have been looking forward to the new year as a sort of fresh start. The past year has been the best year in many ways, but it has also been a trying year. We were new parents; I still have an unsure work situation, and the economic uncertainties weighed heavy on life and familial decisions.

We've grown up into parents, which causes (in us at least) some introspection. What are our priorities? What sort of life are we aiming to build? What does the life we lead teach our children? Is it what we want them to learn? Etc.

In the past, I focused on the number on the scale, all the while claiming that I was concerned with my health, not my weight. But in the past few months I've not worked out and not eaten particularly well (by my standards). The news on the scale is not as bad as I expected it to be, or at least not bad enough to motivate me. I know that means I'm pretty lucky, but it also means my motivation was not really health (or I'd be eating better and working out). So my goal is to really focus on my health. Which means I am counting minutes worked out and servings of fruits and veggies instead of pounds on the scale.

In the past, I used increasing responsibility, good reviews and increased pay as my measure of success and progress professionally. My degree and work has been primarily in non-profits, so getting rich was never my goal (indeed, I always said I needed to do something worthwhile, but I've realized I was measuring how well I was doing that worthwhile thing by my raises and promotions). Now, passion and fulfillment are tipping the scales in their favor as a way to judge my success.

In the past, I was content to define "quality family time" as hours in front of the TV. I recently brought up the idea of two nights a week of "no TV" with One Philly Daddy. I'd like for us to share more than a couch cushion and air in our "quality family time." I want to teach One Philly Son letters, numbers, colors, how to catch, songs to sing, animal sounds, and on and on and on. And I want to share it all with One Philly Daddy.

In the past, One Philly Daddy and I lived a pretty hedonistic life. No, we weren't swinging from chandeliers on a nightly basis and we continued to make smart, intelligent, future-based decisions for ourselves. But, if we wanted to go to dinner, split a bottle (or two or seven) of wine with friends, or take a vacation, (you get the idea), we did. And we're beginning to feel that the cost doesn't outweigh the benefits anymore. Now, we'll probably still do what we want to do, but what we want to do is more along the lines of the Philadelphia Zoo, Please Touch Museum, parks, and story time at the library.

You may say this "new" way of  thinking just makes us tired and old, or even worse (gasp!) boring parents. But for me, it feels like a conscious decision to get more value and meaning in my life. And I am SO EXCITED for all that is coming our way.

So we're looking forward to the new year, being more present participants in our own lives and making deliberate decisions for what we want our life to look like.

What are your new year's plans?

Today on the train was a group of 20-30 7 or 8 year olds, I think on a field trip. They were so excited it was hard not to watch them and smile. They were SO excited. To be on a train. To be going to the city. To be doing something new.

We went to the mall tonight and let One Philly Son wander the stores and halls. He laughed, he shrieked, he played peek-a-boo with stragers. People stopped to smile and watch him.

Something about children's pure joy and wonder is fascinating.

Let's try to get some of that joy and wonder back ourselves.

Life is short. Too damn short.

In the past day I’ve come across these websites: (please check them out, some of them were pretty profound to me)

www.jennyslight.org
www.onepercent-cure.org
http://theinvestedlife.msn.com/investor.aspx?type=blog&aid=i_7&id=26481389
http://www.parentdish.com/2010/12/01/the-year-of-doing-it-anyway/

A group of volunteers I know “adopted” a family for the holidays and planned to purchase presents and clothes and food. One of the children was getting treated for a brain tumor, but unfortunately passed on Thanksgiving Day. (They are still giving the presents, though this Christmas will still be painful for this family.)

My office donated Thanksgiving feasts for families, one of whom is a single mother being treated for cancer, who has a 7 year old son. She’s drawing up her will, “just in case.”

I feel like there’s a lesson in all of this information.

I’ve spent a lot of my life focusing on doing the right thing, the smart thing and not taking lots of risks. Risk equals danger to me, and I’ve had enough of dangerous and scary living. I wouldn’t change anything about my life, and am proud of the life and choices I’ve made. I built a safe life because it was just what I wanted and needed. But I didn’t push many limits in my efforts to create a safe life. Now that I have my safe life, I’m feeling brave enough to step out of line a bit.

Waiting for things to be “right” (in the bank account, at work, with your weight/haircut/boyfriend) before you buy a house/have a baby/take a vacation/pursue your dream is beginning to sound….well….dumb. Like a waste of a limited commodity, namely time.

I pray that this lesson isn’t being hammered into my head for anything more meaningful than to tell me its time to get off my butt, but I think its time to get off my butt.

I’m not exactly sure what it is I’m going to do once I’m off my butt, but I’m going to give it a shot. I’m not going to spend so much time focusing on the right, smart thing, and try to spend some time doing what I want to do.

I’m a smart girl, with good intentions, so I seriously doubt I’ll move to Paris or sell my possessions or start doing anything dangerous or illegal or irresponsible. (In the past, when I imagined stepping away from my “safe” way of doing things, I envisioned unpaid bills, dirty clothes, my starving children crying while I wondered the house with a crazed look in my eye and paint in my unkempt hair. That’s not what I have in mind.)

I just mean I’m going to be more mindful about saying yes to things I want to do, and no to things I don’t want to do. Things that bring me joy and peace and happiness are welcome. Those that bring me stress and anguish and pain will be less and less tolerated.

Where’s your wild side?

Wow, things are tough out there.

Unemployment benefits are set to expire for millions of Americans in the coming weeks and the debate about tax cuts, extending unemployment benefits beyond the 99 weeks currently covered and the job market rages on.

I'm not here to express my opinion about any of that, I do not consider myself informed or educated enough to offer an opinion or solution to our national economic situation.

I recently signed up for home delivery of the Philadelphia Inquirer on Sundays, hoping I'd clip some coupons and save some money at the grocery store. (I'm having a hard time finding the time to cut said coupons, but I'm not giving up yet.) Even though I'm not looking for a new job, I thought I'd take a look at the classifieds to see what the job market was really like...I mean, the paper was already in my house and everything, why not?

And I have to say, I'm glad I'm not looking. The last time I looked for a job, I was living in Bethlehem and it was 2005. My boyfriend (currently known as One Philly Daddy) and I had decided that the Lehigh Valley - Philadelphia suburb commute to see each other was no longer working. We wanted more time together, and suspected that this was "it", so I planned to relocate.

I remember sorting through pages of classifieds, to find 5 - 10 jobs that were an OK fit and 1 - 3 that felt like a really good fit. There were probably an additional 10 - 20 that I could apply for and have a chance at getting. Back then, it was OK to be picky about the kind of job, hours, pay, industry I wanted to work in. I only applied to jobs I really wanted, and it took 6 months for the process to play itself out, from deciding to look to starting a new job. And it was still stressful and felt like a long time.

These past few weeks of glancing at the classifieds (I don't have the stomach for much more than a glance.) I've found very few jobs that I am qualified for. Maybe one or two that I might be considered for, and more times than not, zero that were a good, or even OK fit that I could be excited about.

Yikes.

No wonder people are stressed and worried and scared. It seems being picky about the kind of job, hours, pay, and industry is a thing of the past (and hopefully future).

I don't know if we should extend unemployment or not. I don't know if we should extend the tax cuts for the rich, everyone or no one. I don't know what we should do.

I do know the sense of hopelessness is hard to fight and can be pervasive, from friends who've looked for jobs for a long time, to the news, to politicians. I am not in a hopeless situation by any means, and feel the effects of the hopelessness that seems to soak our world right now.

All I can offer in the way of encouragement is the fact that I have had personal experience in some really, really crappy situations. My mother offered these words of advice, which turned out to be true. "This too shall pass."

Hopefully, sooner rather than later.