Month

March 2016

This is Real Life

I was searching through some mom blogs last night—you know, to get some ideas and see if I fit in the booming community of mommy bloggers—and I didn’t feel too good about my prospects. Maybe I was looking in the wrong places, but all I saw was a lot of picture perfect food, picture perfect DIY crafts, picture perfect kids, and picture perfect fashionistas. (Hold please while I take care of an interruption from my toddler requesting candy. I said no, she pitched a fit and now she “will never love me again.” Moving on.) As I was saying, there are tons of amazing blogs out there that show you pictures of life on their utopian planet. I’d love to visit sometime, but I don’t think I could afford it.

So, I thought it might be nice for you other earth dwellers like me to see a freshly new, but not so fresh looking post about real life. Disclaimer: If at any time during this post you feel like you…(Please hold while I adoringly admire the picture my daughter just scribbled before her head explodes due to lack of attention.)…cannot relate at all then I might suggest you buy a plane ticket to Utopia. On the other hand, if this post makes you feel better about your life, then my goal has been achieved.

Viv scribble
She’s a cute little scribbler. Too bad she scribbled on her ballet skirt after this picture was taken.

Okay, let’s start in the bedrooms, shall we?

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What Easter Meant To Me

 

Our Easter was good. I don’t think we did anything remarkable that other christian families don’t do. We went to Easter egg hunts. We died eggs. We got dressed up and went to church. We ate ham and deviled eggs. But this year, for me, there was a somber tone to Easter. I’m sure the cold rainy weather was part of it. And my oldest being disenchanted with the idea of going egg hunting didn’t help. And I’m sure the sacred origins surrounding the holiday played into my solemnity. But I think my mood was mainly a result of the sorrowful state of so many things in the world. The bombings in Brussels are the most recent of the large scale catastrophes that dishearten me. Then of course there are the heated political debates, and the poor Syrian refugees on top of all the usual mayhem. On a more local scale, but no less upsetting, a family I’ve been following on FB for some time lost their 4 year old son to cancer today. Though we weren’t close, and I’d never actually met their sweet little boy, my world was shaken by the news of his passing.

So, to me Easter has to mean more than bunnies, eggs, Sunday dresses, and candy. Easter has to mean hope.

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The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

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The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins is…different. Of course, you probably know that it has received rave reviews, so obviously there is something appealing about it. Its movie adaptation comes out in October. So what’s all the hype about? Let’s talk about that.

First, if you haven’t read the book I’ll give you the briefest of rundowns without spoilers. Rachel rides a train into London every day, and every day she passes a house that has caught her eye. She studies the couple that lives in the house every time the train stops at the signal. It just so happens that this house is a few doors down from a house where Rachel used to live with her ex-husband. Now her ex lives in her old house with his new wife and baby. Rachel could not be any more despondent about this. Her life is in ruins, so she finds solace in imagining the happy life of the couple that live in the house by the train tracks. Until one day the woman she has been admiring from afar goes missing. Eccentric and alcoholic Rachel injects herself in center of the investigation without knowing that she has a bigger role in it than she realizes.

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Bedtime is the Best Time!

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If you’re a mom, I know you feel me when I say bedtime is the best time. At the end of the day, right around dinner, I start to fall apart. Any cool I had is lost. Every toy my kids drop, every thunderous footstep down the hall, every squeal, every request, every cry makes me want to lock myself in the darkest closet on the planet and lose the key. But we deal, because we’re moms…and we know bedtime is right around the corner.

Sure, sure. I know this is the time in my kids’ lives that I should cherish and all that jazz, so I try not to rush the bedtime ritual too much. We do baths, prayers, and “bed night stories” as Vivi calls them. I tuck Viv in, then the boys, then Viv again. I get myself ready for bed then tuck Viv in again (that girl won’t stay put!) Then finally, when the house is quiet, I crawl into bed, raise my feet and my back (I have one of those sweet geriatric beds for people that don’t ever want to use their abs again), then I turn on the TV and zone out. The Hubster is not a fan of TV, but once it’s on you can’t resist its life-sucking glow. So, he watches with me most nights. I’ll admit, I’m sure there are better things we could do with our time like sleep, or work, or…sleep. But there is something so cathartic about letting your mind get carried away in good drama. I especially like European shows for some reason and I try to steer clear of anything too graphic or raunchy. So if you’re a tired mom like me and you like a good escape, maybe you’ll find it in one of the shows below.

With out further delay, here are some of my favorites right now:

Poldark

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Available on Amazon. Free with Prime membership. Only 1 season so far, but more will be coming!

Why I like it: My current favorite! Aidan Turner is hot, and it’s one of those romantic period shows. It takes place in the late 1700’s in coastal Great Britain. Everyone has a sexy accent (if you’re American you’ll agree, but if you’re British or Irish the accents won’t impress you.) And again, Aidan Turner. Need I say more?

What it’s about: Ross Poldark returns home after the American Revolution to find his former life in upheaval. Driven by loss, he throws himself into rejuvenating his father’s old mine. He cares deeply for the less fortunate and spends every waking moment serving others. Poldark often finds himself at odds with his gentry class, but he fights for what’s right over what is considered proper. Though his heart was broken, he soon finds love again in an unexpected place. I don’t want to give anymore away, but if you like Downton Abbey (another show I love) then you will most likely enjoy Poldark.

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Sometimes Surprises Aren’t My Favorite

Once a month The Hubster and I have a date night. It’s a scheduled thing because he is all about schedules and that’s good, because I’m not the best planner. I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal. I like to think we balance each other out, but let’s be honest…only one of us needs balancing and you’ll be able to figure out which one by the end of this post.

Anyway, we alternate responsibility for our dates each month. Last month I planned our date. We went to an Indian restaurant for dinner, then to a couples’ Thai Massage training class at our awesome, local yoga studio, Ebb & Flow. The class was a little out of The Hubster’s comfort zone, but we enjoyed discovering that my massage technique is rather painful and that he is a pro at everything he does. Apparently, I massage like a vulture tearing away at flesh, but you know, some people might like that. Not him. But maybe someone. In short, he probably got the raw end of that date, but no worries. He got to plan this month’s date.

This month The Hubster decided to make our date a surprise. Actually, he almost always tries to keep his dates a surprise. It makes it fun…usually. For example, in January he took me to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner, we watched a Christmas parade, and then he’d arranged to borrow our nephew’s car so he could teach me how to drive a stick-shift—something I’d been wanting to learn for a while. I didn’t do so great at it, but he was very patient with me. It was very sweet. So, this month I was excited about my surprise date right up until a few hours before when he told me to wear yoga pants. At first, I thought, oh good. I can wear the same thing I wear every day. It’s a casual date. But then my mind started considering the possibilities. Maybe he wanted me to wear yoga pants because we would actually be doing something active! Challenging! Strenuous! SWEAT PRODUCING! I asked him for more information, but he wouldn’t give it.

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4 Ways to Up Your Awesomeness Factor

For as long as I can remember I’ve been pretty insecure. I don’t want this post to be a pity party because pity parties are stupid. But in order for me to make my point, you need to know that most days there are moments, or sometimes hours, when I have a hard time liking what I see in the mirror. I’ve had people roll their eyes when I say things like this and mutter something akin to, “You were a model, what’s not to like?” But we wear our self-perceptions more prominently than our own skin sometimes. So when I think I’m anything short of awesome on the inside, I’m not satisfied with what I see on the outside either. Maybe you can relate?

So, what can be done about our faulty self-perceptions that we might think aren’t faulty, but they really are faulty, like extra salty faulty? Well, I’m not an expert, but since you asked, here is my advice to you, and me. Ready? Here it comes…

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