In my head the words flow. They fall out on to the mental paper with beautiful ease. A sappy song or meaningful quote and out comes more. But the minute I look at a blank page....that is what I become blank.The free feelings stop flowing. The fear takes over. The desire for intricate perfection to always be in place. Logically I know that once I start typing all will be well and the piece will work it's self better than the version in my head. I don't really know what I am scared of. Fear that on paper the feelings become real? Who knows. I just wish it didn't hold me back from writing...something. Just something.
They are just words...but words are who I am.


Rainy day thoughts.....

Today I stood in the door way looking out into the rain soaked vehicle in my driveway. In the vehicle blurry silhouettes bounced while their muffled noises of glee (or antagonism) radiated in the enclosed space.

I stood with 13 bags (a minor exaggeration), coffee, protein shake, dog leash and keys deciding what to do. Should I enter what looks to be the Thunder Dome or drop my bags, close the door and let them "hang out" whilst I warmed up another cup of coffee and read? I quickly reminded myself that I can't do that. Work is calling. School is in session.

I continued to stand and watch. I watched in horror and happiness. Horror that I would have to endure the noise. Happiness that my kids are healthy and happy. Happiness that I have an amazing job, a door way to stand in. Horror that I was going to have to go out in the rain and mess my less than perfect hair. Thankfully I didn't have to wash it today and the rain will help to blend the dry shampoo that created a haze of grey, aging me just a few more years....because that's just what I needed.

It's the little things....


I locked myself in the bathroom

I locked myself in the bathroom.
Like an old man, I grabbed a book, opened the door, turned on the fan and took a seat. But I never "went". Well that's not true. I peed once.

I heard footsteps trample past and the muffled voices of children snipping at each other. I heard my husband yelling at the TV as though the football coach could hear his critiques.

At our house a closed door with the fan on is like having skull and crossbones on the door. You would enter at your own risk and we all know it's not a risk we want to take.
So it's a perfect cover for 15 minutes of semi-silence (semi because clearly muffled voices isn't true silence).

I'd hit my limit of tolerance and I need a quick Apple iCharge turbo save me. I waltzed in, put the toilet seat down, sat and read. It was heaven. Obviously not real heaven where they have wine and cheese and background smells of fresh spring air. But that's not realistic. So the bathroom has become my refuge.



blogging is something I think about daily. I actually feel like I write something in my head every day. I come up with amazing ideas and topics during the strangest times. Buckling the strap on my heels, returning the shopping cart to the rack, listening to the older women at the gym chatter, buying lunch, driving in the car in complete silence. Topics stroll through my mind about love, forgiveness, acceptance, truth, kids, frustration, work-life non-balance, happiness, stress, hate, freedom, husbands, friends....I could go on and on. They are all topics I have tackled. But in reality my last real entry was from September 2011. Sigh.

My past few months have been inundated with lots of things. The struggle to find the work life balance has been futile. About three weeks ago I came to the conclusion that there is no balance. It's no possible. There isn't a perfect amount of this and a little of that and then happiness. I've decided it's less about balance and more about acceptance. Acceptance that there isn't this perfect algorithm that I just haven't found.  It was a disappointing moment but it was also freeing. To accept that I was searching for something that wasn't going to happen lifted a weight. One thing on my perpetual to do list was permanently marked off.

So much about life is about acceptance. Acceptance of the imbalance. Acceptance that the blog ideas will have to wait.  That just because I don't write them doesn't mean that the ideas disappear. Acceptance that it won't always be this hard. Sometimes the hard gets less hard and sometimes the hard changes.  There is even acceptance of acceptance. Acceptance that sometimes it just wont work out. Acceptance that every day is a new day and we are all doing our best.

  1. Tomorrow we begin again. xo



I'm back! Well, I hope I'm back. It feels like I've spent the past few months in a time vacuum. Days wiz past faster than I had ever imagined.

Many days I question if I am really equipped for this whole "mom" thing. It just seems that some people are made to be moms. Not to say that these "made" mommies don't struggle and find themselves looking for five minutes of quiet and find those five minutes locked in their closet with a glass of wine. I certainly don't doubt that. But on the bad days I usually say to myself that I just wasn't made for this kinda work. Like a 4'11", 95lbs person probably isn't cut out to be a lumber jack. But I make it through and will, cause that's what mommies do.

I'd like to think that part of what keeps me half sane is the nutty things the kids do. For instance....
On a particularly challenging morning (which translates to a morning with two time outs each, hitting, crying and me finally just accepting that I won't be at work by 8am) I got in the truck practically in tears only to look in the rear view mirror to see the boys fist pumping to Stone Temple Pilots. I could I not laugh....and cry.

Or the time when she spent the day shuffling around the house in those horrid, stupid, irritating plastic high heels saying she was really busy with her work. She collected random bits from around the house - an old remote, a napkin, something from under the couch (don't ask), and a few toys - and stuffed them into a small box. It looked hoarder-ish (a behavior I try to prevent). When I asked her what she was up to, she would only reply "I'm really busy. I'm working." You don't have to look to hard to see where that came from........


It's been months since my last post (this sounds like a confession). I don't have many excuses, well, I guess I have a handful of them - three kids, a husband, a home and a flourishing business. It's not that I haven't thought about blogging. I've thought about it a lot. Unfortunately thinking about blogging doesn't make it happen. Mr. Steve Jobs needs to get on an app for that.

Time. Or maybe lack there of. This has become a huge theme in my life. Time to get up. Time to get dressed. Time to leave. Time to work. Not enough time to get everything done. Time for dinner. Time for bed. Time to catch up on house work. Not enough time to get it all done. Time to rest. Not enough time to rest. Blah, blah, blah....

Sigh. As a result of time and lack of time, blogging has taken a back seat. Well, let's be honest. Blogging isn't even in the same vehicle. I had to let blogging out of the car. Each night I would vow to let it back in (along with other things that had been pushed out). Why it's happening today? Who knows. But I'm certainly not complaining.

She is now four. Four going on fourteen. Sassy (wonder where she gets that) and smart. Bad combination. She also has the memory of an elephant. Which is not in my favor either. She's constantly reminding me what I had said to her earlier - "Mommy, are you forgetting something?"
"Um, what?"
"You said that I could have a present if I was good all day."
"I did?"
"Yes. Remember when we were getting dressed this morning and you were brushing my hair."
"Oh, that's right."
"So where is my present?"

Gawd. She's only four.

The boys are two and there are two of them so that calculates to four. And that is how it feels. That there are four of them. Fights, yelling, choke holds, hugs, time outs, smiles, laughter, mine-mine-mine, me first.
It's a wild ride. They are amazing. The process of having them in my life is an amazing experience and I am so thankful. But......but wow. What a job. As I lay them down to sleep, kiss their heads, listen to their mumbled jabber as they chatter with pacifiers in their mouth, I am so thankful for their little faces but I am also so thankful that they are going to bed.

Time for a wee-bit of peace.


Halloween....a belated post.

While Halloween is so yesterday's news, I have yet to recount our experiences. Let me start off by saying that Halloween is one of my least favorite holidays. This wasn't always the case. I loved dressing up. My mom was a master at putting together memorable costumes. I think I was six or seven when I was a Playboy Bunnie. The outfit was complete with a black leotard, high heels a tail and ears. Of course at the time, I had no concept of the scope of this costume, but looking back my mom certainly got a few cool points for that one. Then there was Cyndi Lauper, Madonna (two years in a row) and quite a few others. So, why it is that now Halloween is so boo-boring?

She is fortunate enough to have a cousin a few years older who has sported amazing costumes every year and we get the hand-me-downs. Score! This year the original plan was that she would be JoJo from JoJo's Circus (A children's series about a clown and her friends). The costume is precious. My mother in law (MIL) came over with the costume and she would not come within three feet of the limp suit. No way. She wanted nothing to do with the Minnie Mouse dress as well. I was horrified. Has my distaste for Halloween worn off on her? Horrible mother. I could feel the heavens staring at me cursing my name. Bad mommy.

With a little convincing she gave into trying on the Minnie dress and she feel in love. Thank God. I thought I was going to be on the express flight to the island of bad moms.

For the next week she asked about Halloween. We talked about how people would come to our house and get candy. The first few time she balked at people taking her candy, but I was semi-successful in explaining the concept to her. She clearly has no recollection of last year's Halloween.

The big day arrived and all she could talk about was Halloween and candy and Mickey Minnie Mouse....she was getting the names mixed up. I felt like giving her cue cards, but she doesn't read yet so I had to scratch that idea. She looked pretty cute. No one would care if she said she was Mickey. It almost made the costume cuter.

As we ventured out to our first few houses, I encouraged her to go up to the door, ring the bell and prompted her to say trick or treat when the door opened. Being that she is three (going on 13) I figured I'd stop prompting her. She got into the swing of things pretty quickly. Although she often said trick or treat before the door opened. She would stand with her bag wide open, even after the candy was divvied out and the treating was over. On a few occasions, when the door opened, she walked right in the house and stood there waiting to be served. At one house after the candy was handed out, she reached in the bowl and grabbed a few extra handfuls. After each house she would turn her head and in the cutest little voice ask "can we do another one?"
"Yes, we can do as many as you like."
For one evening I had a guaranteed spot as an awesome mom. The next day when I would limit the amount of candy consumed and I was certain to go back to my usual spot as the 'no fun mom.'

As we rounded the block on our way back home, she announced to me that she had to go potty. I asked her if she could wait because we were almost home. As the door opened to the final house instead of saying trick or treat she switched it up with  "I have to go potty." We all (the adults) laughed.

Oh to be three.