Under Construction... me and the blog
Over the next few weeks I'll be working on giving the blog a face lift. As you can see, it has had a few nips and tucks already. Looking forward to getting back into a regular schedule once school starts and (hopefully) getting a chance to post all the ideas I've had running around my head. For some reason I can't find a chunk of time to sit down, with two free hands, and do it....
hahahahhahahhahahah
UPDATE........................
Oh dear I feel delusional. Here I thought I would actually get time to turn this blog into something once school started and we got into a routine. Boy was I wrong. Here I am weeks later. The extra time I get I spend quickly clearing the floor of toys, throwing in a load of laundry or on occasion, getting in a little time on the treadmill. You see, I have this on-going internal battle called Mom Guilt or maybe it's "catholic guilt." This is completely self inflicted and for a majority of the time unnecessary. I think that I should give my boys as much attention as time allows and that if I get them busy with a project or activity I should either do that activity with them or be productive with that time and clean or cook or use the bathroom.
I've read that Budda once said, "The trouble is you think you have time." Well for me the trouble is that I think I don't have time. In nearly everything I do I have the finish line or ending firmly planted in my mind. In college I raced to my degree, going full time at one school and half time at a neighboring one just to be done with it and move on. During our days at home I countdown the hours until it is time for our next move - 20 minutes until we need to leave for preschool drop off, two hours until picking up Cooper, one week until we have so and so's party... and then to the extreme - how many more weekends at the cabin will we have together? How many more trips do I get to my hometown? What happens when I don't have a "reason" to go to my hometown?
Hey- I realize this is IRRATIONAL. I completely get that. Without making an appointment to be analyzed by a psychologist, I can self diagnosis that this "obsession" may stem from my mother's death. But to be honest, I've always had a maybe more than average desire to surround myself with my loved ones simply to soak them in and somehow be able to soak enough in for a time that I cannot do that again. As if that will lessen the inevitable pain that awaits in the future.
I know, from experience, that it won't lessen that pain. I know that no matter how much time I spend with them it could never be enough, So, to combat this truth I suppose I try to rush through the everyday, non-important things to get to the good stuff. Even in our wedding day preparation my lack of attention to detail drove my husband nuts. He even went so far to say I had a "good enough attitude." From the outside it may seem that is what's happening, that I simply don't care, but I have my mind on other things, the things that I think are really important- bike rides and making foods to fill family up with love and cuddling on the couch with little boys, going back into their room time after time to fill a water glass, re-tuck them in or retrieve a stuffed animal. The little things that can drive a parent nuts.
In pageant interview practice I always tell girls that it won't really matter what you say in your interview, it will matter how you make them feel. I try carry that idea into my life everyday. When Cooper and Kevin head out the door for school and work, I want them to leave feeling great. I'm not saying I bend over backwards to let people walk all over me, I just ry to see when to let things go, to be conscious of what will matter tomorrow, next week, next year- what will make their life, our life better. Will it really matter if we five minutes late? Is it worth yelling about getting shoes on faster? Nope.
I have many, many memories of my mom. Fun, crazy, incredible memories of things we did, adventures we had. One particular memory is something I pull up to think about often. It was a beautiful fall afternoon (the kind that she would always say I had been born on) and I was visiting from Minneapolis. Of course this was in the days even pre-marriage so it was just me there to visit. I pulled into my parent's driveway and walked in the front door. From the moment I stepped foot in the entry, I could hear my mom's half skip/half jog thru the kitchen to greet me at door. As I walked in she literally bounced up to me, grabbed both of my shoulders, looked me straight in the eyes with her big, beautiful smile and squeezed me saying "I'm so happy you're here!" I will carry that feeling with me always.
In short, I just want to make people feel like that. Important and loved. I think that's good enough,
hahahahhahahhahahah
UPDATE........................
Oh dear I feel delusional. Here I thought I would actually get time to turn this blog into something once school started and we got into a routine. Boy was I wrong. Here I am weeks later. The extra time I get I spend quickly clearing the floor of toys, throwing in a load of laundry or on occasion, getting in a little time on the treadmill. You see, I have this on-going internal battle called Mom Guilt or maybe it's "catholic guilt." This is completely self inflicted and for a majority of the time unnecessary. I think that I should give my boys as much attention as time allows and that if I get them busy with a project or activity I should either do that activity with them or be productive with that time and clean or cook or use the bathroom.
I've read that Budda once said, "The trouble is you think you have time." Well for me the trouble is that I think I don't have time. In nearly everything I do I have the finish line or ending firmly planted in my mind. In college I raced to my degree, going full time at one school and half time at a neighboring one just to be done with it and move on. During our days at home I countdown the hours until it is time for our next move - 20 minutes until we need to leave for preschool drop off, two hours until picking up Cooper, one week until we have so and so's party... and then to the extreme - how many more weekends at the cabin will we have together? How many more trips do I get to my hometown? What happens when I don't have a "reason" to go to my hometown?
Hey- I realize this is IRRATIONAL. I completely get that. Without making an appointment to be analyzed by a psychologist, I can self diagnosis that this "obsession" may stem from my mother's death. But to be honest, I've always had a maybe more than average desire to surround myself with my loved ones simply to soak them in and somehow be able to soak enough in for a time that I cannot do that again. As if that will lessen the inevitable pain that awaits in the future.
I know, from experience, that it won't lessen that pain. I know that no matter how much time I spend with them it could never be enough, So, to combat this truth I suppose I try to rush through the everyday, non-important things to get to the good stuff. Even in our wedding day preparation my lack of attention to detail drove my husband nuts. He even went so far to say I had a "good enough attitude." From the outside it may seem that is what's happening, that I simply don't care, but I have my mind on other things, the things that I think are really important- bike rides and making foods to fill family up with love and cuddling on the couch with little boys, going back into their room time after time to fill a water glass, re-tuck them in or retrieve a stuffed animal. The little things that can drive a parent nuts.
In pageant interview practice I always tell girls that it won't really matter what you say in your interview, it will matter how you make them feel. I try carry that idea into my life everyday. When Cooper and Kevin head out the door for school and work, I want them to leave feeling great. I'm not saying I bend over backwards to let people walk all over me, I just ry to see when to let things go, to be conscious of what will matter tomorrow, next week, next year- what will make their life, our life better. Will it really matter if we five minutes late? Is it worth yelling about getting shoes on faster? Nope.
I have many, many memories of my mom. Fun, crazy, incredible memories of things we did, adventures we had. One particular memory is something I pull up to think about often. It was a beautiful fall afternoon (the kind that she would always say I had been born on) and I was visiting from Minneapolis. Of course this was in the days even pre-marriage so it was just me there to visit. I pulled into my parent's driveway and walked in the front door. From the moment I stepped foot in the entry, I could hear my mom's half skip/half jog thru the kitchen to greet me at door. As I walked in she literally bounced up to me, grabbed both of my shoulders, looked me straight in the eyes with her big, beautiful smile and squeezed me saying "I'm so happy you're here!" I will carry that feeling with me always.
In short, I just want to make people feel like that. Important and loved. I think that's good enough,
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