There are some days that I just wake up really happy to be alive. It doesn't happen 100% of the time, but when it does, I am so grateful that God gave me another day to be with family.
I love it when Cosette stumbles into our bedroom in the morning, sleepy eyed, and wobbly from rest. As usual, she is the first one to rise in our home (not including Charlotte). Daddy hears her, and welcomes her by lifting our down comforter up, and saying, "Good morning lovergirl. There's room for you right here," as I lay dozing next to them, while nursing the babe.
I love it when all I have to do is talk in a high pitched "mama" voice, to get a smiley reaction from Charlie. I love kissing her face, and her ears, and her chubby thighs. I even love smooching on her stinky neck cheese. It's like the best thing in the world. Period.
I love walking home from school with the girlies on a 70 degree January afternoon. Everything looks fresh, and clean, and bright, and hopeful. I love watching their backpacks sway back and forth on their shoulders. My big girls.
I love it when Emma asks a big sis for help turning the shower head, and they help her willingly. The simple fact being, they are tall enough, and she's not yet.
I love leaving for work on a Tuesday at 5 o'clock, knowing that I have a husband who supports me in that endeavor. A husband who works hard during the day, so he can be "on" to watch 5 kids ages 10 and under, so I can do something that I love. How lucky am I? And the car ride TO and FROM work, with no kids, isn't that bad either.
And I especially love how the day comes to an end. Typically, the last thing I hear before I doze off, exhausted from the days demands, is my husband's voice. He stands over Charlotte's bassinet, saying prayers of love, and blessings, and protection.
Yes indeed, today I appreciate my simple little life. And I have the same wish for you!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Mizunderstood
I'm a bit of a control freak. And yes, I have a BIG mouth. But I also know when, and how, to keep it shut, to get what I want. See, if you didn't already know this about me, then obviously we haven't been "busted" together for anything...yet. But I'm passive aggressive.
Wow, I just feel so free now that my secret is out.
If someone tells me how to act, or not act, I will deliberately, but quietly, do the opposite. Tell me what to wear or not to wear, and I may just show up with no clothes at all. Tell me to be quiet, and well, we all know how that will end.
I can't help myself. It's like life is a game, and I would like to see what I can get away with...not in a malicious or even devious way. But just to push the limits a bit.
Which sometimes leads to getting kicked out of concerts. Or pissing off my boss. Or saying things that leave my friends, who haven't ingested as much alcohol as I have, like they want to crawl under the table. I have this tendency to make "rule followers" feel really uncomfortable.
As I tasted wine recently with good friends, and then proceeded to refill my own glass, (which is totally taboo), my girlfriend nailed it. She said, "Michelle, the reason you get away with so much, is because most of the time, people just don't know what to do with you."
Case in point, y'all know who I work for. LOVE IT. Don't love all the bureaucratic BS, but LOVE my members! They are the reason I go to work.
Every year, there is a meeting where there is some sort of "cruise ship" theme, and the employees are supposed to dress up. Like in a cocktail dress. To be with other women. Eating salad. On a Sunday afternoon.
You know what? The first year, I followed the rules. But when I found out there were NO cocktails, NO open bar, and NO disco ball, I'm like, WTH?
So, the following year, KNOWING full well, that I would be presented with an award on stage, I showed up in a tank top, jeans, and a pair of my best flip flops. My team cringed, as I strolled up to the podium to receive my award in front of hundreds of other "cruise ship" dressed employees, by my boss, who donned her best Sears outfit, complete with sparkly blazer, and shiny pumps.
So it's really no surprise that I got kicked out of the PINK concert. There I was, minding my own business, when 2 of my girlfriends and I spotted some family members sitting about 20 rows closer to the stage. A drunken field trip is what ensued, with my ass sitting in the aisle, as my girlfriends sat upon the laps of my aunt and cousin.
By golly, what do you think happened next?
BINGO! An usher came and escorted my 2 girlfriends up and out. They got up, and went willingly. I, on the other hand, was in the market to buy some time. I just kept saying the same thing to him over and over. "This is my family. This is my family. This is my family," as I thought to myself, I would like to see this 4 foot 9 inch leprechaun, move my 5 foot 11 inch drunk ass, up and outta here in my mini skirt and stilettos.. I certainly wasn't compliant, but I also wasn't an out right beeyatch. I just sat, immobile, mumbling, quite possibly resembling someone with severe learning challenges who was dressed like a hooker.
Finally, I made my way back to my seat with some "help". Shortly thereafter, the cops showed up and proceeded to show me the door.
This wasn't my first run-in with the POlice, nor am I sure, will it be my last. I recall a few years ago on my birthday an incident involving glitter. As I stumbled down Los Gatos Boulevard on my way to the Blackwatch, I noticed two of LG's finest out in front of Mountain Charley's. I stopped, and said, "It's my birthday, would you like me to glitter you?" as I held out a powder puff full of sparkles.
"No thank you," they replied in unison. You know what I did? I ran that powder puff down their forearms as I dashed away. And I do believe that I was once again, wearing a short dress and stilettos.
Hmmm, I'm noticing a pattern here. Something about my clothing choice and having issues with the police. Gosh, I can't wait for my next event when I get to dress up!
Wow, I just feel so free now that my secret is out.
If someone tells me how to act, or not act, I will deliberately, but quietly, do the opposite. Tell me what to wear or not to wear, and I may just show up with no clothes at all. Tell me to be quiet, and well, we all know how that will end.
I can't help myself. It's like life is a game, and I would like to see what I can get away with...not in a malicious or even devious way. But just to push the limits a bit.
Which sometimes leads to getting kicked out of concerts. Or pissing off my boss. Or saying things that leave my friends, who haven't ingested as much alcohol as I have, like they want to crawl under the table. I have this tendency to make "rule followers" feel really uncomfortable.
As I tasted wine recently with good friends, and then proceeded to refill my own glass, (which is totally taboo), my girlfriend nailed it. She said, "Michelle, the reason you get away with so much, is because most of the time, people just don't know what to do with you."
Case in point, y'all know who I work for. LOVE IT. Don't love all the bureaucratic BS, but LOVE my members! They are the reason I go to work.
Every year, there is a meeting where there is some sort of "cruise ship" theme, and the employees are supposed to dress up. Like in a cocktail dress. To be with other women. Eating salad. On a Sunday afternoon.
You know what? The first year, I followed the rules. But when I found out there were NO cocktails, NO open bar, and NO disco ball, I'm like, WTH?
So, the following year, KNOWING full well, that I would be presented with an award on stage, I showed up in a tank top, jeans, and a pair of my best flip flops. My team cringed, as I strolled up to the podium to receive my award in front of hundreds of other "cruise ship" dressed employees, by my boss, who donned her best Sears outfit, complete with sparkly blazer, and shiny pumps.
So it's really no surprise that I got kicked out of the PINK concert. There I was, minding my own business, when 2 of my girlfriends and I spotted some family members sitting about 20 rows closer to the stage. A drunken field trip is what ensued, with my ass sitting in the aisle, as my girlfriends sat upon the laps of my aunt and cousin.
By golly, what do you think happened next?
BINGO! An usher came and escorted my 2 girlfriends up and out. They got up, and went willingly. I, on the other hand, was in the market to buy some time. I just kept saying the same thing to him over and over. "This is my family. This is my family. This is my family," as I thought to myself, I would like to see this 4 foot 9 inch leprechaun, move my 5 foot 11 inch drunk ass, up and outta here in my mini skirt and stilettos.. I certainly wasn't compliant, but I also wasn't an out right beeyatch. I just sat, immobile, mumbling, quite possibly resembling someone with severe learning challenges who was dressed like a hooker.
Finally, I made my way back to my seat with some "help". Shortly thereafter, the cops showed up and proceeded to show me the door.
This wasn't my first run-in with the POlice, nor am I sure, will it be my last. I recall a few years ago on my birthday an incident involving glitter. As I stumbled down Los Gatos Boulevard on my way to the Blackwatch, I noticed two of LG's finest out in front of Mountain Charley's. I stopped, and said, "It's my birthday, would you like me to glitter you?" as I held out a powder puff full of sparkles.
"No thank you," they replied in unison. You know what I did? I ran that powder puff down their forearms as I dashed away. And I do believe that I was once again, wearing a short dress and stilettos.
Hmmm, I'm noticing a pattern here. Something about my clothing choice and having issues with the police. Gosh, I can't wait for my next event when I get to dress up!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
People Are People
Enter De Peche Mode keyboard playing in the background for full effect...
Boy, I'll tell you what. I continue to be humbled by my journey here. From the birth of Charlotte, which didn't exactly go as I envisioned. She was sunny side up, my placenta got stuck which led me to the O.R., I lost a tremendous amount of blood, etc. To my post partum depression and issues surrounding nursing. Or lack there of. And now, my knee is jacked up, leaving me with limited work out options.
The message God is sending me is clear: Slow down. Be in the moment. Pay attention. What worked for you in the past, will not work for you this time. It's so frustrating. But humbling.
I think it's comical how I continue to think I'm in control of my life. I just keep getting broken down. I feel like I'm the Six Million Dollar Man...without any strength. Or maybe I'm the Bionic Woman...without the cool sound effects, and kick ass jumping ability. But one thing is for sure: I'm being rebuilt. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
So I had this big light bulb moment today. People are people. Everyone has a story, and all of our threads intertwine in some way. But it's up to us to make this united tapestry beautiful. The only way we can do that, is if we stop being caught up in US, and instead, pay attention to others, and what they may need in that moment.
So, I'm in line at Trader Joe's and the woman in front of me starts asking about Charlotte. You know, all the typical Q and A...how old is she, what's her name, is she your first child (that's my favorite question, by the way). I just love to see people's reaction. It's like money every time.
Anyways, so she and I are talking, and all of a sudden, she looks at my dead on, and says, "Is your name Michelle?"
I usually get sorta nervous when people ask me that, cause I start racking my brain, thinking, "Oh dear God, what illegal act did this innocent bystander watch me commit?"
She continues, "I played basketball against you in high school. I went to Mitty."
Talk about a small world. I mean, we played basketball against each other, TWENTY years ago. But not much has changed. Here I was, in line at TJ's, without any makeup, hair up in a pony, donning my workout gear. I was shocked she recognized me and knew me by name! So our threads are still connected.
Right before Christmas, the girls went to the shelter with my aunt to hand out candy, and basically, blow some Christmas sunshine up you know where. I accompanied with the baby in the sling, not really knowing what to expect.
Here's what I saw: people that looked the same as you and me. A mother and daughter who were dressed well. Another woman who had just gotten a job at Target. A young black man with clean clothes, and big guns...and I'm not talking about weapons. Dude looked like he just got done working out at the gym.
As I walked by the folks in line, waiting for dinner, many inquired about Charlotte. Babies are just so darn approachable. And think about it. No matter who we are now, we were all as small and helpless as Charlotte at one time. Their eyes lit up as I walked past them.
But the highlight was watching the girls do their "work" joyfully. You know how you wonder how your kids behave when they leave you? Well, they forgot I was there, and just went about their bizness. And it was such a pleasure for me to watch them LOVE helping out. Again, an example of the threads being held together.
As I waited at Kaiser to have my knee X-rayed, I realized I had never been surrounded by so many folks that were injured. One guy said out loud, "Just give me the cortisone shot." He didn't WANT to know how bad off the damage was in his knee, and I could totally relate. Another woman, who sat across from Abby and I, had broken BOTH wrists when she fell off a balance ball at the gym. Think about that scenario...both hands. She was left not being able to feed herself, wipe herself, or clean herself.
I won't lie. I had myself a little pity party when the doc showed me the list of activities that I couldn't do: NO running, NO lunging or squats, NO hills, and absolutely NO dancing on any kind of bar while intoxicated. But I had a choice in that moment: focus on what I couldn't do, or focus on what I COULD do. I chose the later, because seeing those folks who were more severely injured than me, put it in perspective.
While out on my WG jaunt today, I encountered Lou, a woman who's home I have passed for the last 10 years. Her kids are grown, and she's just a positive, loving lady. I asked, "How was Christmas?" She answered, "We've had better. My daughter was held up at gunpoint at her work on Christmas Eve." We stood there entranced, as she explained the details, assuring me that her daughter is "okay, but changed, from the experience." Lou said, "Gee, aren't you sorry you asked how my holiday was?" I said, "Not at all!"
Because truth be told, if I was running today, Lou and I wouldn't have had that conversation. Sure, we would have waved at each other, and hollered hello, but that would have been about it.
So I'm glad that I was forced to slow down today.
Because we all have a story. More often than not, we just want someone to listen to it.
I wish you could experience what I am hearing first hand as I blog this very moment. My loudly, snoring husband in the bed beside me. And Charlotte whistling through her gums like an old drunk lady, in her bassinet while she sleeps. Am I being in the moment if I watch them while they slumber? How my baby is the color of porcelain? And how my husband has his fingers clutched over his chest as it rises and falls.
Life is good. Even if I can't run right now.
Boy, I'll tell you what. I continue to be humbled by my journey here. From the birth of Charlotte, which didn't exactly go as I envisioned. She was sunny side up, my placenta got stuck which led me to the O.R., I lost a tremendous amount of blood, etc. To my post partum depression and issues surrounding nursing. Or lack there of. And now, my knee is jacked up, leaving me with limited work out options.
The message God is sending me is clear: Slow down. Be in the moment. Pay attention. What worked for you in the past, will not work for you this time. It's so frustrating. But humbling.
I think it's comical how I continue to think I'm in control of my life. I just keep getting broken down. I feel like I'm the Six Million Dollar Man...without any strength. Or maybe I'm the Bionic Woman...without the cool sound effects, and kick ass jumping ability. But one thing is for sure: I'm being rebuilt. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
So I had this big light bulb moment today. People are people. Everyone has a story, and all of our threads intertwine in some way. But it's up to us to make this united tapestry beautiful. The only way we can do that, is if we stop being caught up in US, and instead, pay attention to others, and what they may need in that moment.
So, I'm in line at Trader Joe's and the woman in front of me starts asking about Charlotte. You know, all the typical Q and A...how old is she, what's her name, is she your first child (that's my favorite question, by the way). I just love to see people's reaction. It's like money every time.
Anyways, so she and I are talking, and all of a sudden, she looks at my dead on, and says, "Is your name Michelle?"
I usually get sorta nervous when people ask me that, cause I start racking my brain, thinking, "Oh dear God, what illegal act did this innocent bystander watch me commit?"
She continues, "I played basketball against you in high school. I went to Mitty."
Talk about a small world. I mean, we played basketball against each other, TWENTY years ago. But not much has changed. Here I was, in line at TJ's, without any makeup, hair up in a pony, donning my workout gear. I was shocked she recognized me and knew me by name! So our threads are still connected.
Right before Christmas, the girls went to the shelter with my aunt to hand out candy, and basically, blow some Christmas sunshine up you know where. I accompanied with the baby in the sling, not really knowing what to expect.
Here's what I saw: people that looked the same as you and me. A mother and daughter who were dressed well. Another woman who had just gotten a job at Target. A young black man with clean clothes, and big guns...and I'm not talking about weapons. Dude looked like he just got done working out at the gym.
As I walked by the folks in line, waiting for dinner, many inquired about Charlotte. Babies are just so darn approachable. And think about it. No matter who we are now, we were all as small and helpless as Charlotte at one time. Their eyes lit up as I walked past them.
But the highlight was watching the girls do their "work" joyfully. You know how you wonder how your kids behave when they leave you? Well, they forgot I was there, and just went about their bizness. And it was such a pleasure for me to watch them LOVE helping out. Again, an example of the threads being held together.
As I waited at Kaiser to have my knee X-rayed, I realized I had never been surrounded by so many folks that were injured. One guy said out loud, "Just give me the cortisone shot." He didn't WANT to know how bad off the damage was in his knee, and I could totally relate. Another woman, who sat across from Abby and I, had broken BOTH wrists when she fell off a balance ball at the gym. Think about that scenario...both hands. She was left not being able to feed herself, wipe herself, or clean herself.
I won't lie. I had myself a little pity party when the doc showed me the list of activities that I couldn't do: NO running, NO lunging or squats, NO hills, and absolutely NO dancing on any kind of bar while intoxicated. But I had a choice in that moment: focus on what I couldn't do, or focus on what I COULD do. I chose the later, because seeing those folks who were more severely injured than me, put it in perspective.
While out on my WG jaunt today, I encountered Lou, a woman who's home I have passed for the last 10 years. Her kids are grown, and she's just a positive, loving lady. I asked, "How was Christmas?" She answered, "We've had better. My daughter was held up at gunpoint at her work on Christmas Eve." We stood there entranced, as she explained the details, assuring me that her daughter is "okay, but changed, from the experience." Lou said, "Gee, aren't you sorry you asked how my holiday was?" I said, "Not at all!"
Because truth be told, if I was running today, Lou and I wouldn't have had that conversation. Sure, we would have waved at each other, and hollered hello, but that would have been about it.
So I'm glad that I was forced to slow down today.
Because we all have a story. More often than not, we just want someone to listen to it.
I wish you could experience what I am hearing first hand as I blog this very moment. My loudly, snoring husband in the bed beside me. And Charlotte whistling through her gums like an old drunk lady, in her bassinet while she sleeps. Am I being in the moment if I watch them while they slumber? How my baby is the color of porcelain? And how my husband has his fingers clutched over his chest as it rises and falls.
Life is good. Even if I can't run right now.
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