Mirror, Mirror on the Wall Whine

Ok, I will admit, I am spending a little more time looking in the mirror these days
than I ever have before. Truthfully, I like the face that looks back at me, but
anything south of the shoulders is the bane of my existence.

Sadly, I have said that for over 20 years, but when I see pictures of my 20 year
old self, I think, "you stupid woman, you wasted far too many years
complaining about nothing.  Isn't there a song that says  "You are not as fat as
you think." I think I need that tattooed somewhere on my body.  I think
I would be amazed if I took all the wasted hours of worrying over my looks
and put it towards something more productive. I would probably be rocket
scientist by now.

My point is this....stop looking at all the bad things and look for all the good
things and trust me they are there! If you ever start feeling really bad
about yourself look at those gawd-awful pictures of people shopping
in Walmart that look like they just crawled out of the National Enquirer!
Someone in those pictures will always have more cellulite and less class
than you. Oh, and if you are one of those people in the Walmart pictures I
sincerely hope that was a wake up call to perhaps get a bit of a makeover.

I think I just need a new mirror, better lighting and crisp chardonnay.

Martha Stewart Crafter's Whine

I don't know about you, but I could spend days in Michael's. The promise of
excelling at any project of my choosing is so intoxicating. I could be a jewelry
designer, a stamper, a scrap book artist or a painter of any medium all within
the space of an hour. My credit card starts to hum in my wallet and I take on
the demeanor of Martha Stewart minus the helmet hairand prison record.

Walking down the oil paint aisle I literally convulse in pure delight at all the
possibility laying before me. A blank canvas goes beyond all philosophical
discussions of tabula rasa and I'm momentarily paralyzed with the plethora of
options dancing in my head. I sometimes have to just sit down and take it all in. 
I can't stay too long or else I start feeling like a turtle that just wants to shove its
head inside his shell because all the stimulus is just way too much!

I may not be the best painter, but I'm learning every day. I don't think I will ever
tire of hearing someone say "You painted that??"  I could be happy with paint up
to my elbows if it were only my opinion that counted. I get nervous when people
start to say things like "You should sell this stuff" or "Have you thought about
approaching XYX company to sell your stuff on consignment?" Poof....here
comes the turtle.

Call it a lack of confidence, call it laziness, I don't know what to call it. I just know
that I am happiest painting when there is nothing but joy attached to it and the
feeling of finishing what I started.

I can toast to that!

People Pleasing Whine

How many times have you replayed a conversation in your head and wished for a
better conclusion? How many times have you wished you said "Yes" or "No" or
even "Let me think about that" to at least buy you some time to think the request
through? Sometimes I am just drop-dead-tired from trying to be all things to
everyone.

Most of this is family related. You would think that I could cut myself some slack
where family is concerned, but for some reason I am over here tapping dancing on
egg shells trying to make everyone happy, do the right thing and give the right
answers.

I am failing miserably.

There are days when I sometimes can't balance what I need to do in my personal
life, my family life, my work and my friends. I wish I had even one more hour in
the day to devote to each category to finally check off some items on my "to-do"
list. Pretty sure I am preaching to the masses here....who the hell doesn't feel this way?

But here's the thing...life cannot be a to-do list. Life is constant motion with full
"in trays" and sometimes all things cannot be completely balanced. I think we
have to stop seeing our day to day life as a ledger in which columns are all neat
and balanced.  I think a sense of humor is the key to fewer gray hairs and an
ability to pick the better wine.  I think we all need to blatantly give ourselves
permission to not be perfect and blissfully navigate our days utilizing our gut instincts
and let the concept of "perfection" disappear. 

Be kind and drink wine!

Crying When You Are Happy Whine

Why do women cry when they are happy? What is it in our DNA that
allows for such a spectacle of emotion when we should be laughing
until our sides split with happiness one moment and the next moment
we are wringing out the hanky with our tears?

I do this all the time...in fact I am writing to you in a haze of tears
because my mom has given me some fantastic news and this will allow
me to see her in a few months and I am so completely overjoyed at
the prospect of being able to hug her, but at the same time I am searching
for the tissues because I can't stop crying!

I do this during long distance phone commercials, the Notebook and
anything to do with children and I should be able to accept this part
of myself, yet I can't. I live in a household that has more y chromosomes so
I find myself kind of hiding my emotions and skirting the issues of my
tears. This really can't be a good thing if I am trying to raise a strong,
sensitive boy who can help bring out the best in his chosen friends. I know
he is 10 right now and finds the fact that body odor is a funny topic so we
have a ways to go in the sensitivity issue, but I am planting the seeds.

I am crying and laughing at the same time and I am not going to make
any apologies for it. This is who I am, this is how I filter the world and if
it takes an extra glass of house white than so be it. I'd rather cry when I
am happy and not quite understand than be stoic and unmoving because
that is what is expected of me as a role model.

Another round for my friends sil vous plait!

Child of Mine...

Child of mine, you will never know how much I love you. So while you are
sitting in your room sulking and pouting, let me share a few things with you.
Maybe one day when you are old enough you will understand.

While you are thinking about how much you hate me because I was evil enough
to set boundaries, I am quietly counting to 10 and remembering all those times
I couldn't wait for you to talk. I couldn't wait to have these conversations with you
and watch you form your own opinions, hear you work out a problem on your
own and to finally hear you say you love me.

While you are yelling out "It's not fair" I am remembering when you used to hold
my hand because I was the best thing since sliced bread. You reached for me
unabashadly with the biggest most trusting smile on your face and I remember
thinking, "Dear God, please don't let me disappoint this child."  But here's the
thing. Disappointment is inevitable, but the love you have for your child endures
EVERYTHING.

From making your favorite breakfast to making your stuffed animals look like
they are sleeping in your bed, I am on a constant vigil to make sure that you
are safe and that you will thrive in this world. Even when I really just want to
walk away from another power struggle my heart has a magnetic pull towards
you that will never go away. 

So go ahead and think that you have the worst life "like ever." It's going to
get worse before it gets better. And I will be here, every step of the way.

Crying in my Wine Whine...

I think I was born with extra tear ducts. Seriously, I cry at the drop of a
hat. I cry when I'm happy, sad, perplexed, joyful, worried and content.
Local news stories can make me sob at the breakfast table and I think
at this stage in the game my husband has learned to just pass the tissues
and not even question my latest waterworks.

I once had to do a "personality" quiz through work and most of the people
around me were scoring in the 90th percentile for "Leadership" or "Decisiveness"
or even "Communication." I scored in the 95th percentile for "Empathy."
What can I say, I was born this way.

I don't really recall when my call to the world of tears first became apparent.
My inner circle will know the extenuating circumstances that would certainly
support my hyper-sensitivity, but crying  because of a story I read or heard
seems a bit of a stretch. I'm not a pretty crier either. It's all red nose and snot
and wet sloppy tears.  Ah, to know me is to love me.

So if you ever need to just sit and have a good cry with someone, I'm your
girl. I'm a good listener and my vault of "secrets" is massive.

Somebody bring the tissues...and a good bottle of wine.

The 5 Stages of Grief Whine...

I have come to realize that I am going through my own stages of grief over moving
here. Don't get me wrong, the majority of my feedback support group thinks this
was a good  move, but the doubting section hasn't quite joined the bandwagon.

First there was Anger - "I can't believe we are &^%#@! moving again!"

Then there was Denial - "I am not selling anymore furniture, clothing or other such
belongings.I will never have another yardsale in my entire life. Bubblewrap is my
nemesis. There was partial acceptance along the way because we were moving
closer to our family and the thought that I would never have to shovel snow again....
then it hit me... I will never shovel snow again. I like snow.

I missed the Bargaining stage altogether while sipping/gulping my chardonney. My
arbitration skills are lacking any kind of depth of conviction and so I packed on.

The Depression Stage hit me about a week ago when I realized that I was not going
to be witnessing any type of season change through the beautiful and colorful
display of leaves just doing their fall thing in October. Sunshine became annoying
and I was really looking forward to a cold afternoon with a cup of hotchocolate.
Not going to happen. I won't have snow on Christmas morning and I won't get
to see TJ all red-faced from the cold after having a snowball fight with his friends.

I'm limping towards Acceptance...slowly. The one thing that trumps all of these

negative feelings is that we have FAMILY here and that my friends is priceless.

I will never take for granted the fact that if I need help, I can ask for it and I will

get it. No questions asked. I like the fact that I can help in return in an effortless

exchange of just being there for each other. After a particularly long day last week

I walked the one house over to my mother-in-law's with a glass of wine for

both of us and her smile and acceptance of me was the tonic I needed. When she

said, "You read my mind" I knew I had come home.