I am Drawing the Line

I am Drawing the Line

I told someone today that I wanted to become a freelance writer. And she laughed and said, "What? In all of your free time." And I realized she was right....well, at least partially. I mean I am an extremely busy woman, but what mother isn't. It is not the job or the kids or the husbands (or lack of) that makes us busy or insane. It is all of it rolled into one big some times uncontrollable ball, which drives us control freaks crazy. I mean why else do you think that so many women are on medication now (pregnancy over=Lexipro or Aderall here I come). 


In retrospect, I probably could have a little too much going on. I teach full time. I am currently pursuing my Educational Specialist Degree. I have two young munchkins and am currently serving as a baby making factory for a third. I am our PTO Co-President and also serve as the Special Events Chairperson. I have a Bunko group. I am on the United Way Board. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Not too mention the fact that I live by the philosophy, "If I am going to do this, by God it is going to be the BEST". I will strive to be the best teacher, mother, wife, leader, and parade float maker (even though we were ROBBED this year by receiving first runner up. Sorry my Eastside friends. In case you can't tell, I am still quite bitter.)


My main problem is the ability to say no or for that matter when (especially when it comes to dessert). Temptress-Liz, will you serve as President? Me-Well... Temptress-please you would be awesome. Me-Okay 
Temptress-Please be a part of our adult spelling bee team. Me- I can't spell. Temptress-So it will be fun. Me-Okay. (Seriously? A spelling bee. I couldn't say no to a spelling bee. I SUCK at spelling and obviously I SUCK at saying no).


However, I recently accomplished saying no to someone other than my children, students, and my poor, deprived husband. I was put on a committee at church. One that would regulate the children's activities. One that would require more meetings to fit into my schedule. But finally, I was able to say no. Of course, I did it through e-mail (much easier than face to face or phone. Totally get why people break up through test messages or in Sarah Jessica Parker's case, a post-it) and I had several reasons: 1. I wasn't even asked. 2. I don't have time. 3. I am not even a member of that church. But the point is, I said no. I do feel slightly guilty, but it was time I drew the line. 


Now, let's just hope this line does not get erased by that temptress who understands my need to be in control of things. But I mean it. I am drawing the line. I am saying no.....well....ummm....maybe.

Get up and Dance!

Get Up and Dance!


I love movies! I know I have said this before, but seriously I love them. I now know where my 6 year old gets her addiction. It must be hereditary. In fact, I think I recently read about the Cinematic gene which is passed down from generation to generation. The symptoms of the disease include sitting opened mouth and googled eyed staring at the television, a.k.a. movie screen, and the inability to focus on anyone or anything else whilst entranced by whatever movie is serving as the enchantress of the night.


Tonight our movie choice is the holiday classic, White Christmas. I remember my sister and I being almost the exact same ages as my girls and watching this movie. We would curl up on the couch with a blanket and hot chocolate (much like tonight) and immerse ourselves in the dancing and singing and romance of it all. In fact, we even had a routine imitating Rosemary Clooney and Ava Lee's "Sisters". We would clear out the living room and use big pillows for our feather fans and put on a performance complete with lyrics and dance moves (maybe this could be the performance at this year's Pinkston Christmas!).


My point is that movies take us to a different place, time, and life. Not that I ever want to leave mine, but what I wouldn't give to live one of these lives in a movie for just a couple of hours. Dancing and singing across the stage while falling in  love in a musical. There are so many great ones Singing in the Rain, The Sound of Music, Grease, Mamma Mia, Wicked, Hairspray, West Side Story, Annie, Chicago, Moulin Rouge, every Disney musical ever made, and most recently Burlesque. Each one leaves me wistful, romantic, happy, and longing to just get up and dance! 

Potter Lover and Not Afraid to Admit It

Potter Lover and Not Afraid to Admit It 

So Thursday night, I slipped into a mild form of depression. My sister, my cousins, my aunt, my brother-in-law, and countless others were all attending the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1. I, alas, was at home because my husband smartly pointed out that missing one day for Potter could cost us money down the road if I ended up using all of my days for maternity leave. 


Now, anyone who has never read the series is going "Seriously???". Yes, seriously. First of all, if you have never read the books then let's not, as they say, Judge a Book By Its Cover. It is by far the best, most imaginative, most thought out, and thought provoking series of books that has ever existed. For those of you who think it is "evil" because it has magic and because you have never read it so you really don't know what it is about, I have this to say: Do you watch Disney movies? Because almost every Disney movie there is has fairy god mothers, evil sorcerers, sea witches, tooth fairies, Santa Claus, wicked queens, good fairies, and countless other forms of magic a.k.a fantasy. That is just what Harry Potter is: FANTASY. And Bloody phenomenal fantasy at that!! 


When I expressed to one of my friends my depression, she could not believe it and looked at me with eyes that read "you are a little bit silly and perhaps crazy". Now that is probably very much true, but I think that not having something silly to be excited about is even sillier. 


Life is too short. We are here to enjoy this amazing place that God has given us and allowed us the privilege to be apart of. This includes books or movies or exercise (blah) or painting or sewing or trivia games or scrap booking or hanging out with friends or blogging....whatever it is that helps you enjoy life. 


Of course the first thing we think about is family and it goes without saying that should be the most important and give the most enjoyment, but I am talking about things that are just for you. Many of us, especially moms, don't take time for ourselves. We don't find something to love and be passionate about that expresses who we are and allows us to be someone other than a mom and a wife. 


People always ask me how I make time for reading, watching movies, blogging, playing Bunko, working on a Christmas parade float...My answer is always the same: you make time for things that are important to you and things that you enjoy. If you don't, your life could end up feeling empty and you might end up depressed about worse things than missing the premiere of a movie. 


As for me, I love anything that allows me to experience things  I could not in the real world. I love to be taken out of the reality of my life and escape into the world of make believe. It makes me happy, and sometimes we need to find simple things that bring happiness and contentment into our lives and allow us to escape, if even for just a few pages. 


 Therefore I make the following proclamation: I am a Potter lover and not afraid to admit it! And hopefully soon, I will be able to escape reality for a few hours when I immerse myself into the work of the young wizard and come out happy and relax, ready to enjoy and appreciate all aspects of my life. 

Good times! Good times.

Disclaimer: Not sure if you want to read this if you are a man, but maybe you should so you can see what we women must go through. 

So today was my fabulous appointment with my gyno. You know the one I am talking about. The one where you have taken more time to prune and clip than you did on your wedding night. The one where you actually take the time to paint your toe nails since they will be on display in those oh so lovely stirrups. The one for which you tirelessly shave your stubbled legs (which is now a gymnastic feat what with this ever growing belly)  that may not have been shaved for days upon days, yet as soon as you take your clothes of become immediately stubbled again. The one where you feel like all of your goodies are on display for all of the world to see even if that world is only one person with some scary instruments and thankfully some Vaseline. 

Now this event is not pleasant for any woman, but it is especially not pleasant for a pregnant woman. I mean our bodies are already doing all kinds of crazy and many times disgusting things. And now all of that will happen with someone's face mere inches away from Ground Zero. The thought is paralyzing, and if it is for me I can only imagine what it is like for my Gyno.

But I arrived today ready and willing to have my "area" invaded and my mounds prodded. Part of it was ...I mean, whatcha gonna do? Run away screaming? I think that is frowned upon. Plus, the gown doesn't close in the back and that would lead to a-whole-nother embarrassing experience. The other part was that my midwife is the most fabulously cool chick that has ever existed and makes the whole experience feel like we're at a bar having some drinks and chatting about our lives.

Ahhh....that is how they could improve this whole unpleasantness....offer drinks. I can see it now "Pap Smears and Pina Coladas" or "Scraped with Schnapps". You could even go for "Mammograms and Martinis". I really think someone should run with this. It is GOLD!

Other improvements for any office that performs these extremely uncomfortable procedures:

1. Turn up the heat-hello we are naked!

2. Cloth dressing gowns-not only are they better for the environment, but they are better for my ego, too! Nothing depresses a pregnant woman more than putting on a gown only to have it instantly rip in all the wrong places. I get that I have gained weight there is no reason to make it worse.

3. Provide some form of distraction-not elevator music, but a TV on the ceiling or better yet pictures of Edward and Jacob gazing down at me.  Oh how I wish someone would bite me.....wait a minute, that is for another blog.

4. Bikini Waxes- If we are already naked and already extremely exposed and uncomfortable why not throw in a bonus service "Free Wax with Scraping".

All in all in was not that bad of an experience thanks to my super awesome midwife and nurses. I just think that men should have to go through the same thing. Having someone grab your manhood while you cough is not the same at all. Really all I can say is ....Good Times! Good times.

Really? Really.

Alright, I get it! I am getting old. Is there a need to flaunt it in my face? I think not. Alas, mother nature feels the need to do just that. 


It was one thing to have forehead lines at the ripe old age of 25 (must have been all of those summers in the sun without sunscreen---which I blame completely on my mother and not on my ability to escape like a slippery fish and run away screaming which was soon followed by screaming from the burning pain and cold aloe). It was another thing for weight to start staying attached to my thighs and stomach when it used to just melt away with one extra exercise session or starvation fest. And then it was another thing for these blasted lines to start going from the sides of my nose to my lips. What is that about? Am I a clown now? Seriously? Seriously.


And then a few months ago, I saw it--my first grey hair. Well, actually, it was white. And while it was on my head, it was not in my hair. It was in my eyebrows. REALLY? Really. At first, I brushed it off as light blonde. I mean it was the middle of the summer, and I had spent a lot of time in the sun (though be it with sunscreen-doing all I can to prevent more of these unsightly lines). Luckily, I could easily solve the problem of the could be, but I am going to believe it wasn't, white hair. I plucked it out. I mean, first of all I didn't believe in the old wives tail that "2 more will grow back in its place", and secondly, I mean what was I supposed to do---leave it there? I think not. I mean it was a white, but I am going to stick with blonde, hair. 


Sadly, it appears the old wives tail was right, because a week or so later up popped two more, and they continue to pop up no matter what I do. Soon I am going to have to shave my eyebrows off and start a new trend for thirty somethings to draw on their eyebrows like a young,, but scary Joan Crawford. AHHHHHH!


Now comes the kicker....and I do mean kicker, because it is literally kicking me while I am down. Not only do I have more lines on my face than a walnut, thighs that jiggle like Jello, Bozo the clown lines, a saggy butt, and white hairs (I have come to grips with reality), but now I am turning 33. THIRTY-THREE! 


I am not some person who swore they were turning thirty and holding. I am proud of my age and regardless of this post, how I look-flaws and all. Plus, with every year I have aged I have gain so many amazing things in my life...husband, Aubrey, Addison, and now who ever this is I am growing in my belly. 


However, this all changed this morning. I was blow drying my hair, and there it was. A GREY HAIR. No way to take it for blonde. It was startling and depressingly grey. The funny thing was that it was totally not there yesterday. I mean no where to be found. Yet, here it is shining and silver atop my head. There was no hiding it. No mistaking it. It was loud and it was proud! So what did I do? I pulled it of course,and in a couple of weeks when two more pop up in its place all I will be able to say is.....Really? Really. Oh well I guess it is time to start dying my hair.