My Daily Plans - An Update

A couple weeks ago I wrote about the list of 11 daily habits I was trying to integrate into my life. I held no hope that doing this would actually change anything. I own at least 50 self-help books (not to mention a long history with the library), and let's just say I know my way around this neighborhood.

Well color me shocked and amazed! Not only have I been filling out my little sheet, I've also noticed which items have a made a difference in my mood and which haven't. Morning pages keep me sane; meditation is overrated. It's like I'm a grown up or something. Please don't tell my mother.

Of course previous lists have included things like, "Do cardio for 60 minutes every day while eating sub-subsistence levels of food." Then I'd beat myself up for not being able to stick to my goals for even 1 day. Now that's just a little slice of heaven for a self-flagellating depressive, I tell you!

Favorite addition to my current list? Flossing. Little bitty baby steps.

Time Is Not On My Side

I am feeling so completely overwhelmed these last few weeks. Nothing new really.

I started this class, Becoming More, over at Big Picture Scrapbooking. The first week has been all about defining my values, yadda, yadda, yadda. It's not like this is a new concept for me; my very first therapist had me read The 10 Natural Laws of Successful Time and Life Management. It's probably unbearably corny, but it actually helped. I bought myself a fancy planner, filled out all the worksheets, and got focused. That year I got re-involved in theater, planned a wedding long distance, and lost 30 pounds. Damn, now that I think about it, maybe I should dig that planner out of storage.

Anyway. Of course I'm realizing that how I'm behaving is not in-line with my values. Because that would make too much sense. If I was happy-warm-and-fuzzy, I probably wouldn't have been drawn to taking this class, now would I? The parenting thing is great. Yes, I need to be "present" more often, but that's a little tweak. The problem is the gaping hole in my life where all my creative pursuits should go.

I want to write, here and in other areas. I want to get some pictures scrapbooked. Oh, oh, oh, and actually, I don't know, edit and order some photos. I'm only 5 months behind. Taking photos would be great too. I also have this stack of craft projects I'd like to try just because I like trying new things. I also have a few canvases that I've been wanting to play with.

On the other hand, I haven't paid the bills (that was supposed to happen last Friday). I seriously need to get some exercise, not only because I'm turning into a cow, but because I feel like crap. And the dog is being seriously neglected. I have doctor's appointments to go to, groceries to buy, cards to send, laundry to wash...sigh. How do I take care of my family and take care of myself?

Annoying Myself for Fun

I'm just having one of those moments in my life, the one where I decide that I hate everything about my life. It happens about every 18 months so I'm due. I hate Tucson, hate the house, hate my parenting, hate being a stay-at-home mom, hate our furniture, hate our summer plans. All of which invariably leads to I.Hate.Me. I'm indulging in all sorts of fantasies revolving around living somewhere else, doing something else, being someone else.

Random annoyance - I've had to look up the spelling on a bizarre numer of words the last few days. Not difficult words or strange words, just regular words that I use all the time.

Up until quite recently Arizona license plates have had the pattern 111-AAA. I have far too much fun coming up with words to fit those last two letters. One of the parents at Quake's school has "MYT". Could be "mighty" or, since it's a Toyota, it could be "my T(oyota)". See? Way too much fun. I once saw "LRG" on a...Hummer. But just last week I saw the plate I should have been issued - WTF. My current life refrain.

Sushi and Birthday Cake

I'm supposed to be asleep. My mother-in-law took Quake to the store with her so Cha Cha and I could go down for a nap. Cha Cha...not so much into the nap.

Tomorrow Monkey Man and I will be married for 6 years. He's currently packed into a high tech metal tube hurtling itself around the globe and won't even be on the ground again until tomorrow has come and gone. Next year we'll be able to aruge over whether we're married 6 or 7 years.

My mother-in-law came to town Friday evening so Monkey Man and I could get drunk on grain alcohol and eat obscene amounts of raw fish to celebrate. It's a party! I told him during dinner that I still wanted to be a writer (something I've claimed and then abandoned too many times to count). Do you think that means anything? Anything other than I'm obnoxiously long-winded when I'm drunk? As oppossed to when I'm not drunk, and I'm just almost obnoxiously long-winded. Shut up, it's my fantasy.

Cha Cha, the sweet baby, the wonderful, happy baby, decided last night that he doesn't want to take a bottle anymore. So my mother-in-law, she who can "handle any baby, had three of my own, helped raise a few more, was a labor and delivery nurse for over 20 years", was completely worn out by the time we got back last night. I feel bad. But only because I feel just the tiniest bit gleeful at her trauma. Oh, my world has become small and petty, but I'm getting pleasure where I can.

It's a really good thing she's here though. Otherwise I'd be ordering pizza delivery and picking up a generic cake tomorrow morning for Quake's birthday party. And then being glad I had enough paper towels for the pizza since my dishes are all dirty.

Suburban Perfume Vixen

I went to Phx this weekend for a visit with my artist friend. It was a much needed reprieve from my “normal” life. I must admit a teeny amount of cognitive dissonance on Friday. I spent most of my day hanging out with my suburban mommy friends, and then spent the evening (and a few wine fueled hours into the next morning – woohoo!) surrounded by a downtown art crowd. It was weird.

Weirder is that I love and cherish both of those roles in my life. I don’t think I could give up either one, but I’m definitely not getting enough of the creative crowd. I was inspired by so much that I saw this weekend. I hope I can use that inspiration to propel me forward on some projects I have spinning in my head. You know, instead of just giving up and dragging down until I force myself to get away again for the weekend in a year or two.

To help me remember the journey, I bought a necklace for myself on Saturday. It’s one of those necklaces with multiple charms that often have a message with a different word written on each charm. I love those! Every time I’ve seen one, I’ve wondered what message would be perfect for me. Then I snap back into reality and tell myself that I certainly don’t need that sort of indulgence. Really, have you seen the gas prices?

The stars must be aligned because I bought the damn necklace. Mine says “Be You.” It seems like the perfect way to remind myself that I am Suburban Mom and Wannabe Arty Type, and I don’t have to choose. On the other hand, it’s a little frightening that at 36, I feel the need to be reminded, constantly, that I am who I am and who I am is ok. Or it’s pathetic. But I’m trying to be kinder. At least to myself.

And then it was like some cosmic force had been unleashed. On Monday I bought myself perfume. I rarely wear perfume. Of course that may have something to do with the fact that all the perfume I own was given to me by other people. I bought the perfume at Anthropologie. Words cannot express how much I love that store. Want to move in, and live in that store. I never buy anything there because a) I don’t have that kind of cash, b) I haven't been able to fit into their clothes since before Quake was born, and c) did I mention I don't have that kind of cash? I feel like a giggly, guilty schoolgirl. It’s so not like the Suburban Mom me, but Wannabe Artist me just got on her motorcycle for a cross-country ride with the wrong man. Metaphorically speaking.

The Pricklies

Quake and I did this a few weeks ago after watching some kids plant cactus on TV. I think it turned it out really well, and so far nothing has died. Or even looks sickly. I know, I know, succulents are "impossible" to kill. I am quite skilled at the impossible.

I am soaking up the joy now that Monkey Man is back from Singapore. Or I'm spending my time getting annoyed that he's underfoot and constantly undermining all the work I did this week getting the boys in some sort of routine. I'm always forgeting which it is.

I'm currently reading a book about parenting, the topic of which I will go into at a later date because it seems to demand its own entry, and I'm starting to think the methodology might go a long way in husband training. It's certainly helping with Quake. I'll get back to you.

I haven't posted much about my quest to Figure Out What I Want To Do With My Life. It's not that I've forgotten - and, as this issue plays itself over and over and over in my head constantly, I'd have to cut off my head to forget it - but I haven't made much progress. Oh wait! I marked one thing off the list. Yeah, me! And I'm only writing about it now because while I was taking a shower tonight, I was beating myself up about it. That's my favorite thing to do, ever! Well you'd think it was.

I was thinking (between the "good god, you are never going to get a grip are you"s) about advice I've received from two people in my life about this issue. Both of their suggestions make me sad. Hmmm, thing that's a pretty good indication that I should mark off both of those items as well? I'm trying so hard to listen to my intuition, but all the accumulated years of thinking too much for my own good, has left me a bit tone deaf to that voice.

Note to self: a response of sadness to a suggestion might mean it's not the right path for you (baby steps).

Be Bold

I made a New Year’s Resolution for the first time in years.

Be Bold

I’ve been living much smaller than I want to, and I think it’s time to change that. Of course being bold isn’t exactly something that’s easy to measure, and we all know from reading too many self-help books (or maybe that’s just me) that goals must be specific and measurable. So I’ve actually got a whole list of goals for the year, not one of which is “lose weight”. Thank you, Shapely Prose, for reminding me that The Fantasy of Being Thin is a crock of shit. It’s time to get on with my life.

I haven’t made any resolutions in years (except for my private “lose weight” resolution that I was ashamed to voice), but I’ve been busy this past week scribbling notes at random times about what I’d like to change this year. It all started during the massage I got the day after Christmas (a gift from my two sons). As I was letting my mind drift with the soft music before the massage got started, the thought “this is the year I figure out what I want to do with my life” popped, fully formed, into my head.

I believe the whole “I Don’t Know What I Want to Be When I Grow Up” thing is just another version of the being thin fantasy. Not knowing what I want to do is great way to avoid doing anything. And of course I can’t figure out what I want to do with my life if the house is a mess and the kids still need me around and the bills need to be paid and I can’t even figure out what I want for dinner. Right?

So I started a list of all the jobs and careers that I fantasize about or think I might want to pursue. I’m going to do that overly analytical thing of comparing and contrasting all the pros and cons of each one in an attempt to distract my head long enough to give my gut a chance to offer an opinion. But I’d also like opinions from any of you. What do you think I should do? What do you think my talents are?