Have you noticed you have more energy to take care of what you have to do when you take care of yourself?

This is a lesson I learn and re-learn often, but I just read a Scoutie Girl's blog about fitting in her personal creative projects, not just her work ones. Her goal is to not lose her personal goals in the face of her professional success and abundance.

Which is a very noble cause, in my humble opinion. I'm always impressed by how renewed and energized I feel after I do something for myself. Whether it's yoga, drinks with friends, painting my nails or just catching a chick flick, it almost always works. There was a time I thought of those things as a waste of time, taking me from what I "had" to do.

Actually, the opposite is true, and taking care of me gives me strength and motivation for taking down Christmas decorations, 3 loads of laundry a day, dishes, bath time with One Philly Son and getting myself to work. Of course this means sometimes walking away from something that "has" to be done for something infinitely more important - me.

Don't forget to put some me time on your schedule, you'll be glad you did!

Here we are, a week into the new year already. Does it still feel shiny and new to you?

Nothing really has changed in my life, but the things have been set in motion to bring change in the near future.

And I'm that cool nervous excited for it. I'm about to embark on an entirely new path, one I previously felt I couldn't walk. And now I'm eager for the change. (Don't worry, I'll fill you in when I can.)

I'm sure a part of me is merely romanticizing what life will be like when things change, but I honestly do expect positive change for me and in me. Already I can feel some of the frustration fading. We have two dogs, one whom must be kept on a lead because no matter what alterations we do to the fence, he escapes. Well, on Friday in the midst of a snow storm, he managed to get off his lead and pranced, hopped, ran and gallopped around the yard. One Philly Son was alone in the house but watching through the screen door as I chased after our dog on my slippers (without socks. In the snow. While my son was alone in the house.) A few weeks ago I would've felt frustrated, boxed in and resentful. I would've been harsh with my dog, which always makes our other dog cower. So I would've felt guilty.

All because my plate felt full to brimming and spilling over with obligation and responsibility.

On the day in question, I laughed.

It was funny, afterall, and I now feel my energy, spirit, time and love will be spent in a way that feels worthwhile to me. I felt free to laugh, and roll with the day, rather than weighed down by things. Things that were not serving me, adding to my sense of purpose or joy, or supporting my ideal life. These things remain present, but just the knowledge that I will soon be rid of them was enough to put a smile and a laugh where a scowl and a curse used to live.

I can't think of any better proof that I'm doing the right thing.

Back to reality

Today I, along with many of us, returned to reality. That is, I went back to work (some of you went back to school) after a long holiday break. Personally, I was out of work for 13 straight days, and had loads of quality family time.

I realized something while on my break. Being a full-time SAHM (that's stay-at-home-Mom) is not nearly as easy as I once imagined. I once imagined SAHM meant a clean house, home-cooked dinner every night, and loads of time for undivided attention to the child(ren).

Yes, I've been working from home, but being a working-from-home-Mom I didn't really get a real impression of what being a day-in-day-out stay at home Mom would be like. It was easy to blame challenges of the day on trying to be a worker-Mom/caregiver/house cleaner/cook.

But let me tell you, full-time, 100% Mom ain't easy. Not that I ever thought it was, but here's the essence of what I learned.

It's not about you/me (the Mom). What I could accomplish in a day, the mood of the day, the events of the day were dependent not on me or my plans, but on One Philly Son.

Talk about an "aha!" moment. (Or "duh!". Either works...)

The journey of the SAHM is (somewhat) to manage a world in which you are not in charge. I mean, not really. Sure, you can set the parameters of nap time, meal time, play time, TV or not. But throw one ear infection in there (as we did) and things can get thrown out of whack.

Still, its something that intrigues me. More and more a traditional role of Mom and homemaker (feminists, look away!) appeals to me. I can see the fleetingness of time before the kid(s) go to school. I can understand the desire to be the one to teach colors, numbers, and letters. I can see the joy and happiness of being with  your child(ren) every day, all day. I am drawn to playground and coloring books, to lazy breakfasts spent talking about yellow bananas and green grapes and round bowls.

I also have a greater appreciation and understanding of the frustration that may accompany the career path of SAHM. No, it is not easy. But, oh how rewarding!

During the time I was home on break, One Philly Son seemed to develop in leaps and bounds. We went to the Please Touch Museum not once, but twice and he loved it. He started responding to One Philly Daddy and my verbal communication more and more. One Philly Daddy said "give me your pacifier" and One Philly Son DID. One Philly Daddy said "come here and help put your coat on" and One Philly Son DID! When I mention taking a bath, One Philly Son not only goes upstairs to the bathtub, but also signs "bath." He's also consistently signing "more" and "eat." I think "milk", "drink", and "play" are not far behind.

I have no idea if these developments have anything to do with me being home for a long stretch and being able to focus solely on One Philly Son or if it is a coincidence. I have no idea if he's been doing these things all along and I just finally noticed.

But I am grateful that I was here and present and aware of these things as they happened.

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.

A sister joins the sisterhood of motherhood

My sister recently announced that she is expecting her first child! 

My sister is my best friend in the world. I can tell her anything, even dark, dirty little secrets I don't even want to say out loud to myself (and oh boy, have I!). I can brag to her about my kick a$$ day without worrying that she'll feel like I'm, well, bragging. She speaks my language, knows where I come from, and accepts everything about me. Clearly, I'm fond of the girl!

And to think of her on the journey of becoming a Mom just makes me so darned happy! (Because it is what she and her husband want and planned for. Not because I'm one of those pain in the a$$ people who thinks everyone should have a child...to each their own people!)

I've shared what little tidbits I can remember, pulled out all my books to give recommendations. (My favorite was The Pregnancy Bible. I LOVED it. I know everyone says you should get What to Expect When You're Expecting: Fourth Edition but I didn't find any pictures in there and I found the book kind of "blah" the few minutes I flipped through it in the book store.

But The Pregnancy Bible: Your Complete Guide to Pregnancy and Early Parenthood had pictures of the developing fetus for each week (real pictures, not artists renderings), as well as a week-by-week this-is-what's-happening-to-your-body explanation for Mom. (I'll admit, I cheated a lot and read into the future to see what was coming) As in all pregnancy books there are those pages/paragraphs that scare the be-jesus out of you, but One Philly Daddy and I made it a habit to sit in bed with that book and read about what One Philly Son was doing that week, or how far he'd come, or what he'd be doing when....  It was awesome and one of my fondest memories of being pregnant with our first child.


Of course, as in many, if not most, journeys in life, the during can be pretty hectic. After our anatomical ultrasound and One Philly Son was declared healthy, I still couldn't stop worrying something was wrong. I fretted about setting up the nursery. I fretted about affording everything. I fretted about getting everything done. I fretted about what I didn't know to fret about.

And...we got everything done. Everything turned out just fine. Mere months after the birth of One Philly Son we settled into a routine. All those things I fretted about magically transformed from unknown, scary, unimaginable things (just how early do I have to wake up to get us to work, the baby fed and to day care, the dogs and cat fed...how is that going to work? I could not imagine.) into normal, blessed, part-of-our-routine things.

Too often I don't give me/life/my husband the credit it deserves for the incredible track record of things working out.  They usually do, and yet it always seems to be a surprise to me.

So I know my wonderful, darling sister must have a head full of "what if" and "how" and "when" and "holy cr@p, now what??" But I also know, she'll find her answers, and in no time at all, she won't believe she was ever unsure of what to do.

I’ve hesitated to write about this for some time. The situation is still going on, and the outcome remains completely unknown. But it is taking up a lot of room in my mind, so perhaps this will free up some room for other things.

I’m in an unfulfilling position at a non-profit going through a merger where no one’s position is guaranteed.

Since I returned to work from my FMLA Maternity leave, things have been up in the air with merger “talks”, then decisions, negotiations, and finally restructuring. We’re in the restructuring process, and, as often happens in these situations (this is not my first merger/buy out experience) things take longer than expected and planned.

So what we’d hoped to be wrapping up soon will probably be going on into the new year for at least a few weeks.

Prior to my maternity leave, things were different. I worked long, hard, crazy, busy hours. If I took a lunch, I came back to multiple voicemails and emails. I accomplished incredible quantities of work. My philosophy and response was “I can do that” no matter how crazy the request, how short the deadline, how big the project. (And most of the time, I did do “it”.) If I didn’t know how to do it, I found out. If no one else wanted a project, I took it. If a position was vacant, I filled in until it was filled. Sure, I was frustrated sometimes, and overwhelmed by all the work at times.

But I also felt important, busy, valued, appreciated, necessary, awesome. I had a complete sense of having it all. I could have a family, a challenging job, contribute financially to my family and feel great doing it. I was PUMPED at the prospect of it all.

Now, unfortunately, I feel listless, unsure, confused, unnoticed. My tasks have dwindled (hopefully to increase if/when the merger is finished), and I hate to say it, but I’m not sure anyone really notices I’m here. I can go days, if not weeks without a work related voice mail (I don’t count telemarketers).

It is disheartening and disconcerting to feel so invisible after feeling so indispensible.

I yearn for a purpose, a sense of accomplishment.

Have you ever noticed the phenomenon that the busier you are, the more you can get done? I epitomized that phenomenon at work for awhile, and now I am bogged down in the flip side. No focus, no drive, no motivation. It takes me an hour to write a fax now. I used to do that in the midst of returning a phone call AND an email.

I feel like my brain is turning to mush, and I miss the fire and rush of feeling necessary and important.

So, I'm going to try to get that rush somewhere else, brainstorm a personal project that might give me that sense of fulfillment I am missing.

This situation at work will pass, and whatever the outcome, everything will work out. But I bet finding an independent source of fulfilment, a passion of my own is a worthwhile pursuit.

What's your passion? Is it really yours or is it dependent on someone or something else?

What's your gift philosophy?

Even though One Philly Son has already had one Christmas, and is quickly approaching his second, I am still contemplating my Christmas gift philosophy.

The ginormous pile of everything he asked for? or a few specific and hopefully meaningful gifts?

Last Christmas One Philly Daddy and I agreed to purchase only a few gifts for One Philly Son. #1 He was 4 months old and wouldn't remember #2 He didn't need a stinkin' thing. #3 He wasn't aware enough to want anything and #4 We knew he'd get plenty of gifts from other, very generous friends and family.

Last year, we bought him a cloth storybook, and a singing Elephant, and I'm happy to say, he still plays with both and still carries them around the house nearly a year later. Which is what we want a gift to be, right? Something that brings joy and stands the test of time to provide continued joy.

This year we are following much of the same philosophy. So far,we are gifting 1) 3 personalized books that will include his name, because I hope he'll enjoy them for years to come, plus they are Sesame Street ABC and 123 books, so there is also an educational component.

2) a Stride to Ride Dino Walker (currently $44.99 at Toys R US, but free shipping if you spend $49) because I know  he will love, love, love it right now. (and we have the room and floors so he can ride it in the house during the winter)

and 3) a Disney music CD (cheaper new at Toys R Us) because he is fascinated with the CD player, "dances" in his car seat to music playing in the car and loves Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

I hope they are all things that One Philly Son will enjoy and use often.

We might pick up a few more small things, and maybe I'll get some cute little things that he can dump out of his stocking on Christmas morning. But that's probably about it.

He still won't remember this Christmas, so I don't feel the need to "wow" him just yet. If one day, he's just set on something spectacular, and One Philly Daddy and I can swing it, I'd love to gift him that amazing gift that he talks about years later as "the" Christmas. Every parent wants to provide that, don't they?

But I don't think (who knows?, life evolves) I'll strive to provide a pile that can be literally be jumped into, like some of my childhood classmates got...

I guess I don't want to create the unhealthy expectation for One Philly Son that he will get everything he wants all the time. I believe this leads to the child not understanding the value of what they have and a sense of entitlement.

But at the same time, I understand the philosophy that childhood only happens once, and when is a better time to teach a child to wish, to dream, and to expect those wishes and dreams to come true?

So what's your gift philosophy? Do you let your child(ren) make unlimited lists and provide everything on it? Or limit their requests to a few items and only provide a small pile? Let me know your thoughts...

Thanksgiving

I am grateful that most of my stresses and worries come from the problem of abundance. (If you are having a hard time seeing the abundance in your life, check this out. A good exercise in perspective.)

Too many choices - work or stay home with kids?, have kids or not? how many?, buy a house?, how big?, where? Public school or private?

Money for necessities and most of my reasonable wants - unlike a lot of people. Whether or not there was going to be food on my table this Thanksgiving was not a question. Neither was the heat.

My family and I are healthy enough that I can take it for granted sometimes, and not eat well or work out.

Free enough to criticize anyone, believe anything, decide what I want to be. 

I have the luxury of a partner to help, when many do not.

My safety is not a concern, nor the safety of my family.

These are just the biggies, not to mention the apple pie I'll eat on Thursday, the beautiful weather headed our way this week, the new couches I'll be sitting on, etc, etc, etc....

Happy Thanksgiving...

It's about time...

One Philly Daddy and I did something yesterday we've been putting off for a long time. We've talked about it on and off for years and sometimes had very different opinions about whether or not to do it at all. Recently I said I'd never do it. And here we are.

We bought new couches.

Why we didn't:
1) The couches we had worked for years. They were hand-me-downs, but we were young, and they worked. In the beginning, I even liked them.
2) New furniture is, to me, crazy expensive. I'd rather save the money or take a vacation (And we have. A lot.).
3) We have two dogs, a cat and a baby/toddler. It seemed anything new would just get ruined in a few days anyway.
4) I was hoping to find something almost-new (better for the environment, my wallet, the world, plus - less heart break if the dogs/cat/kid make a mess).

Why we finally did:
1) The couches are no longer "working". I was beginning to be embarrassed. The couches had stains, so a few years ago I had them cleaned professionally (cheaper than new couches). Then they got more stains, and the cushions started to tear, so I bought slip covers (on sale, much cheaper than new couches. Plus, I had the benefit of being able to wash away any messes). Now, when anyone sits on the couch, the cushions slide out so far you end up with half a cushion suspended in air over the front of the couch, and a big gap of no cushion behind your butt. I spend a lot of time shoving the cushions back in place and brainstorming ideas of how to get them to stay put.
2) I was getting tired of being a hard working adult who can afford to pay cash for new couches, but continues to have a couch that looks straight out of a college dorm room.
3) I wanted to. Badly.
4) We searched all the "almost new" options, repeatedly, and found nothing.

What I learned:
1) The overriding concern for stains was probably not necessary. We purchased a sofa, chair and a half and an ottoman. And the fabric protection plan for all of them. For an additional $150, American Signature Furniture will clean any stains or tears from pet or human spill, bodily fluid or accident. If they can't get it out or fix it, they will replace the piece for 7 years. We'll see how well the actual delivery of this service is, but as One Philly Daddy put it, "if anyone needs this service, its us".
2) I already knew this one, but its always nice to see it in action: One Philly Daddy and I are legitimately concerned with each other's happiness. We refused to buy something we both didn't love (in style, color and price), which meant 9 stores in one day and a lot of communication, but I think we both love what we ended up with. (Correct me if I'm wrong honey..quick, before we pick up the new furniture!)
3) If I could get away with it, I would probably save every penny I earned besides necessities. Apartment (small, and pseudo-crappy is OK, just needs to be safe), car (ditto), food (nothing name brand, please!), a few social outings, and basic cable. Student loan payments and the rest sits in an account, for "just in case." But life is meant to be lived. And if I'm going to (and One Philly Daddy) work hard to excel at work and earn a good living, I should probably allow myself to enjoy a few nice things, once in awhile. I'm honestly excited for these stupid couches!

So, we did it. We didn't get anything fancy or expensive (We did visit one store having a 50% off sale, and everything was still twice our budget. Ouch.), but we like it, and we're happy. Plus, it should be here before Thanksgiving (which I am hosting)....and I won't be fixing cushions OR worrying about stains....now that's something to be grateful for!

I recently re-read Eat Pray Love because I loved the book, but also because I am so taken with this woman's journey to discover herself. It took courage for her to examine her inner-workings with such honesty.

I've always been into self-awareness and self-help-y type exercises, experiences, books and writings. I once exclaimed, without an ounce of sarcasm, "I love therapy!" I started going as part of my parent's divorce proceedings, and honestly, I guess it stuck. I wasn't consumed with the desire to escape or avoid what was going on in the world or within myself, I was consumed with the desire to understand. I felt it I just understood, I could take a different path.
What I've learned over the years is that actually understanding what goes on in the human mind is complicated and tricky. And understanding what goes on in your own mind is even more complicated. (Something about objectivity?)

But what a fascinating journey! (Admittedly, some of this therapy was in fact necessary at certain times in my life. I thank (insert name of your favorite deity here) for all those who helped when I needed it most.)

The desire to understand how and why you are who and what you are fascinates me. Admittedly, there are more social hobbies a girl can have, but this one has served me well, and I have to say, I cherish the journey I've taken.

It may go without saying that a fair amount of the work that I did was to educate myself so that I would not repeat certain patterns, certain legacies that should've died generations ago. I was going to be the broken link in that chain if it killed me.

I don't think I realized until I had my son just how scared I was of screwing it up. (And I knew I was plenty scared, but I think this was down-to-my-bones scared without even realizing it..)

The innocence and purity of childhood is the most reverent, sacred thing to me. I believe a child's trust, faith, heart and soul are the most important and valuable things that anyone can be entrusted with. The Hope Diamond is a cheap trinket compared to this. And I know that that sounds like a pretty big deal, but it does not begin to express the importance that I put on it.

And yes, a fair number of shrinks (I use this phrase with all fondness and respect) have informed me that this belief may in fact be a teensy-weensy bit too much pressure on any human being.

But of all the things to not f*ck up, this one seemed the most important.

And I'm gloriously proud, relieved, somewhat embarrassed (there were, ahem, a few people who told me all along I could, I just didn't believe them) to admit...I can do this.

I'm a decent Mom. It is by far my favorite role to date, and I revel in it. No, I won't do everything perfect. Yep, I'll mess somethings up. Yep, some of my hangups will unfortunately be visited upon my children. But I bet some of my grace, wisdom and strength will too...

A Yoga teacher/friend/truly fascinating person I know recently conducted a Yoga retreat in Mexico called "Letting Go" (oh my god, that's like three of my favorite things - yoga, Mexico, AND self help?!?!?! I love it!) and it got me to thinking, its time to really start putting down all that baggage I've carried around for so long.

My biggest, deepest fears have been proven wrong and I can stop arming myself against them.

What can you let go and put down?

We're just human after all...

So we've just returned from vacation to fabulous Mexico. One Philly Son was fabulous on the planes and loved, loved, loved the beaches and pools. Honestly this resort was wonderful for kids.

The staff adored him, going out of their way to say hello/hola, to talk to him, give him things to play with. There were plenty of activities that he was too young to do, but this resort would be great for kids of any age.

On our return flight there was a man who I assume is ill. He traveled in a wheel chair and his wife (I assume again) was carrying what appeared to be oxygen for him. I noticed he was wearing a hat that read "Cancer Sucks Team Bob". My assumptions continue to conclude that this man is sick, suffering from some form of cancer and that he and his wife took a trip together to spend some time out of hospitals and chemotherapy rooms. We happened to ride the elevator to the baggage claim together (a young boy in his stroller, a sick man in his wheelchair, enough to give anyone something to reflect on) and his wife's purse was open enough for me to see a pack of cigarettes.

I hope my mouth didn't gape open when I saw the cigarettes.

But it got me to thinking. My first reaction was how, even when we know the right thing to do, we don't always do it. Eating vegetables, working out, etc, etc, etc. I was a bit appalled at this woman. (Again, admittedly totally based on assumptions) Here is her husband bravely battling cancer and she's still SMOKING?!?!?! How dare she?!?!?!

But immediately after it got me to thinking about our humanity. Our flawed, imperfect, try as hard as we can and still not perfect, human selves. If my assumptions are correct, this couple could literally be fighting for their life together. I can not imagine the strain, fear, struggle or anything else they are going through. And, clearly, I have no idea of their story, situation, life or anything else. For all I know he sprained his ankle running on the beach and the oxygen was a fancy case of tequila.

Who the heck am I to judge based on what I think I saw?

The truth of the matter is, I don't know anything about that couple, other than that they smiled at my son in the elevator and rode on a plane back from Mexico with me.

So I'm embracing my imperfect humanity, embracing that I don't have all the answers (actually, I probably don't have any of them...) and patiently waiting for the answers to be revealed in their due time...

Relaxed, for so many reasons!

The One Philly Family is mere hours away from a fabulous vacation in Mexico. The dog sitter is set up, the bags are packed, the laundry is done, we're almost ready to set the alarm for really-freakin-early-o'clock and we are ready to go!

Beyond that though, we've reached a real level of relaxation, acceptance and comfort. For example, I have been traveling with One Philly Daddy long enough to know he doesn't stress about it. He throws some stuff in a bag and goes. Even after repeated trips taught the same lesson (sort of. He never packs enough socks or t-shirts, we can never remember which), he doesn't stress. I stress about packing. Especially with One Philly Son. How many diapers are enough? Which toys will keep him happy on the plane?

And I also know that One Philly Daddy's stress will begin when we wake up tomorrow and won't end until we've passed security at the airport and are at the gate eating breakfast.

The point being, we've been together long enough to really know each other well enough to anticipate, expect, accept and roll with the things that stress each of us out.

And that is truly relaxing.