Tuesday, June 21, 2011

8 years: A Love Story

Once upon a time.

There was a man. This man was a Big Man. He was taller than other men. He was broader than other men. He was thicker than other men. He was heavier than other men. He was a Big Man in every way.

This Big Man liked order. He liked simplicity. This Big Man liked straight lines and neat equations. He liked the expected and normal things.

Elsewhere, in this Big Mans world, there lived an Average Girl. The Average Girl was a girl just like any other girl. She was of average beauty. She was of average intelligence. The Average Girl had an average talent and came from an average family. The Average Girl was loved with an average love, and loved others with her own average love. The Average Girl acted and thought and was just like everyone else around her.

But the Average Girl had a secret. Deep down, in a quiet place of her heart that she was barely aware of, she craved all things unaverage. She craved bright colors. She craved loud noises. The Average Girl craved tall trees and fast water.

One day the path of the Big Man crossed the path of the Average Girl. Their meeting was amicable and friendly. When the Big Man met the Average Girl, he saw her as everyone else saw her. She was a girl of average beauty. A girl of average intelligence. A girl of average talent.
But the Average Girl saw the Big Man as something more. When she saw the Big Man she saw more than a man taller than others, broader than others or wider than others. The Average Girl saw in the Big Man her own bright colors, loud noises, tall trees and fast water. He was the one that would release the desires of her heart.

Over time, the big man began to see glimpses of something other in the Average Girl. He would see a flash of color, or a crash of sound. But they were muted, and distant, and he gave them little more than a passing thought.

Eventually the Big Man and the Average Girl parted ways. Their leaving was amicable and friendly. Sometimes a letter was written, or a conversation was had. The years floated past and the Big Man and the Average Girl moved on in their lives and they began to forget each other.

Years went past and the Average girl began to remember. She began to remember the Big Man and his quiet, neat ways. She remember the way the colors jumped inside of her when he was near, the way the noises sang louder. So she began to search for the Big Man. She looked, and asked and searched. Then she waited. And then she looked and searched and asked some more.

One day, one day, the Average Girl found the Big Man, and she arranged a meeting. The day came, and he was there in a room, waiting for her. She saw him, and time slowed down as if the wind had frozen. He stood up from his chair, and she was reminded of how big this Big Man was. And the colors inside of her were bright, and the noises we're loud, the trees were tall and the waters fast at the sight of him.

And when the Big Man saw the Average Girl enter the room, he didn't see the Average Girl he expected. He saw turquoise. He saw thunder and lightning. He saw lemon yellow and swollen rivers. The Big Man saw great forests and rushing clouds. He saw in the Average Girl everything she had ever wanted to be.

So the Big Man made the Not So Average Woman his bride. And he loved her with a big love. And she loved him with mountains and magenta and red clay.

And they both lived happily ever after.





Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Late night ramblings

It's 12:34 am.

Jake is asleep on one side of me and Beau Boy is wide awake on the other side. He keeps asking me what I'm spelling. We are sharing one blanket and he keeps kicking it off because he's totally not sleepy. A five hour nap will do that to a kid.

I had an extremely large pile of clothes on my bed this afternoon and when I finally worked up the courage to out them all away I realized how few of them I actually wear. But I can't bring myself to give any of it away. Plus I remembered how many awesome skirts I have. Yay for sweet, big hippie skirts!

I have one pair of pants that I wear, but I only wear them when I'm getting dressed up to go somewhere. My Fancy Pants. Literally. I wear them with heels and instantly feel glamorous, and it confuses people that to get dressed up I put on pants. But when skirts are your jeans, jeans become a dress.

My fabulous sister took some sweet pictures of my little family last week. I'm loving this one



But the ones of my kids are even cuter. Check them out Here .

I still haven't washed my hair from when we took these, and, oh yes, I cut my hair. I have a whole post working up on that, but I've got to dig out some awesome vintage pictures. Patience is a virtue.

I had cupcakes for lunch today, but I scraped all the frosting off first. Is a naked cupcake still considered a cupcake, or is a little bit more of a muffin now?

Beau has wandered off into the depths of the dark house, the only one with enough energy to still be wide awake. Poor guy.

It's now 12:44am.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Earrings: good; Shaving: not so much

I shaved my armpits about a week ago. It was a whim. It was kind of nice at first, but now I"m kind of over it. It's not like shaving my armpits has made my husband love me more, or given me more patience with my children, or encouraged me to vacuum. Shaving my armpits hasn't made me smarter or skinnier. It hasn't really changed a whole lot, except that they're itchy now. Not exactly an improvement.

I have an earring collection of ginormous proportions. Seriously. My earring rack is completely full and now I have neat little piles on my dresser so as not to lose or tangle a set. Plus I take all my other pairs off in random places like the kitchen or the bathroom, so I actually have another third of earrings that I don't see often. But you know the weird thing about this earring collection? It seems I can never find just the right pair to wear with my outfit. It would go something like this:

"hmm, well my skirt is red, but I'm really feeling these orange earrings today, do I have anything clean that would work with the orange ones? No, not really. Hmm, well, the blue ones are nice, but no, I really want to wear the orange ones, but I don't want to change out of this awesome, twirly, ginormous red skirt."

So what do I do? I wear the orange earrings with the red skirt. Wearing orange earrings with a red skirt doesn't make me any skinnier, or smarter or patient, but it makes me happier, and that seems to be the most important. So the next time you see me, if my earrings have absolutely nothing to do with my outfit, now you will know why.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Why I deleted my Facebook account

I like to think of myself as a clever person. Funny. Hilarious, even.

So when I sat down on Facebook I usually found myself putting something witty in the status line.


It has been discovered that dishes are actually an alien race sent to take over the population of planet Earth.


Paul is running around with underwear on his head. He gets that from me.


I'm having an affair with cream cheese. Please, no one tell my husband.


But then something happened.


I didn't feel funny anymore.


Now I just felt like a desperate comedian telling just one more joke hoping this one gets a laugh. Was this something my friends even wanted to hear? Or did they want to know what I was having for dinner and if Beau just peed in his pants? It came down to a philosophical discussion with myself about what an appropriate facebook status update was. And that's when I realized


I'm giving this thing too much of my life


Seriously, why was this one website consuming my every thought. I'd be standing at the sink, up to my elbows in dirty dish water, writing and re-writing in my head my next funny status. I'd be having a beautiful moment with my kids and be thinking 'I should put this as my status' .


And don't even get me started on the hours I would sit in front of the computer refreshing and rechecking my homepage to see if anyone has posted something new. New pictures of their kids, new pictures of their house, vacation, party, dog, grandma, shoes. Seriously, why do I care?


Now, Facebook does have its uses. I loved being able to find old friends from high-school. People I barely talked to then are now informing me of their trips to the grocery store, the job their husband got and the name of their new puppy.


Eventually I came to the conclusion that Facebook, for me, was just a form of validation. I wanted people to comment on my posts, or at the very least 'like' them. I wanted oohs and aahs over every picture of my sainted children. But why do I need other people to tell me how awesome I am? Why do I feel that I'm not good enough unless people tell me so?


This post just got deep, and it's about facebook. Kill me, kill me now. Jeesh!


And I don't want to come off as some kind of anti-social witch. I really did enjoy seeing where people are now. I really did enjoy seeing pictures of someones new baby. I really did enjoy hearing of my friends now with kids and spouses. Those things make me happy. Really.


It is very possible that someday in the future, I will reactivate my account. I do miss all the obscure yet totally awesome news articles that one of my friends would always post. And there is a certain acquaintance from high school that always cracked me up. So and so is expecting a baby and I want to see pictures, not to mention pictures from that girls wedding.


They say all things in moderation, and if Facebook was a snowy, cold season, I'd tell you that I'm enjoying the sun now and getting a nice ,golden tan.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

An impulsive spirit

Today goes on day three of having an eye twitch.

It's enough to drive a woman crazy.

I doused myself in essential oils yesterday to try and get it to go away. I put on lavender to relax the muscle, peppermint and lemon to try and wake me up, I had on a muscle relaxing blend as well as a bit of Ylang Ylang for good measure. It worked for about an hour. I smelled like a true hippie, though.

I also wore a dress with a pair of gaucho pants and several long necklaces. A big fat sweater to combat the rocky mountain spring couldn't hide the awesomeness of it all.

I went running in the rain. Sometimes it feels good to do something totally irrational, like go outside barefoot in 50 degree weather and get soaked and enjoy every minute of it.






Saturday, January 22, 2011

*La*

Yikes! 6 months? That's all I'm gonna say. And sorry.

So. Where do we start? This feels like the time that an old high school friend and I got together but we had nothing to say because we facebook/blog stalked each other and had nothing new to say because we aren't that close, but are friends. This just feels awkward, ya know?

I've decided that I don't want to change the world. Well, if the opportunity presented itself, sure, I'd take it and wrap it in a tortilla and smother it with sour cream and melted sharp cheddar, but that's not my priority anymore. I've decided that the most important thing that I can do right now with my life is to raise kids who will change the world. And if by accident I cause some waves in the process, cool.

I have three kids. No babies, no toddlers. I am officially in the raising stage. Now I shape them into the adolescents that will shape the adults they will become. And the thought scares the crap out of me. What if I mess up? What if I raise strong kids, but they're strong for all the wrong reasons? What if I'm too strong and in the process make them weak? I've had countless discussions with Bigpoppa about how to raise strong kids. I don't feel that I am who I am today because of how I was raised, or because of something specific that my parents taught me. Most of me today is just me through eternity. I will swear without a doubt that my parents molded me for the better, but I am vastly different than my siblings, and we were all raised the same. I am me, an no amount of teaching will change that. What do I do if I have a kid who is inherently someone I would dislike?

Now, let me be the first to tell you that my kids are awesome. They are strong and smart and independent when they need/want to be. And that's how all kids should be. Paul is sensitive and emotional, and feels a need to be validated and noticed. Nona likes to take charge and take care. She's the mother hen to her brothers. Beau, and it may still be too soon to tell, but Beau is carefree and fun loving and shirks all responsibilities. He loves letting Nona take care of him.

I want to know, though, that when push comes to shove, my kids are going to stand for something. And the only way I can think of to make them do that is to set an example. Maybe to allow them a chance ask me questions about having principles.

I don't know guys. I'm just making this all up as I go. What parent isn't?

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Barefoot: yay or nay?

Today I had something of a personal crisis.
Needless to say, it was one of those days. There was no peace to be had, no relief, no comfort, no extra strength. No shoes, no clean clothes/dishes, no sanity. Yeah.
Now let me preface this next part by saying that I don't believe in making my kids look good when we go out. Part of this is out of convenience, part of this is out of wanting them to be comfortable and happy and to be able to express themselves however they want. But today it was really hard to remember that reasoning.
Nona was in old faded neon green sweats, that no matter how many times she had changed today, she always came back to. And on top she wore the cutest frilliest top you're ever seen. Paul looked fairly decent, but due to his new desire to grow his hair long and refuse to let me brush it, looked somewhat crazy. Beau had chocolate smeared all over him, and had just put clothes on for the first time that day (we're nearing 8pm).
We were going to get ice cream cones and go visit Daddy at work, since we really hadn't seen him much in the last several days.
Absolutely no one could find their shoes. And for some reason this really ticked me off.
Lately I was introduced to the barefoot movement, loved the idea of it, but for sanitation and safeties sake got me a pair of these puppies:
Love 'em, but I'll post more on these later.
For some reason it didn't pass over to me that I should let my kids experience barefooting as well. It was in the car, and there was still some sniffling in the back seat from my prior rudeness (which now tears at my heart, don't worry) when it hit me. What the crap is the big deal about shoes?
Yes, yes. Other than the fact that I have actually spent money on a product that seems to have vanished and will never get used, really, what was I whining about? I was allowing myself to go barefoot, why couldn't they?
So, they did. There were no run ins with sinister hidden pieces of glass, no seemingly innocent, sharp rocks waiting to make a bloody mockery of our new found freedom. It went fine.
So what was the big deal? I still don't know why I got my panties in such a twist. I know I haven't been the best mom lately, running on fumes will do that to the best of women. Which I"m not saying I am, I just... You know what I mean.
It made me wonder what else I get all worked up about that really is superfluous? How many other things in life are considered 'important' and are really just learned behaviors that when tested, hold no water?
What are some of the social norms that really need to be done away with, or challenged? What am I ready to throw out and make my own rules on? The possibilities aer liberating!