Do you remember the old days when you were tagged in a post on Facebook and had to answer 25 random questions? Or give your top 20 vocalists of all time? Or the top 10 most influential albums in your life? Yep. me, too. And Elaine over at The Miss Elaine-ous Life did a recent post going back to those old school blogger roots. So in good form (and after 2 cocktails that night), I harassed her on Twitter and in the comment section of her blog to tag me (I wanted to do one too! Wah!!! Why wasn't I tagged!) Well, Elaine is a sugar. She tagged me. And I'm going to pretend it's because she wanted to and not because I pestered her like Elmo does those poor babies. So here are my two lists. The one on the left I pulled from my Facebook notes from February 2009 ( Yeah I forgot all of those gems where there too. And they are Pre-Pants and Plum!) and a whole new one on the right. I think it speaks volumes to the fact that I haven't changed at all. I'm still ridiculous. I still love Steelers football and eating. And I'm still a huge supporter of the color red. Please love me. And then play along in the comments! Enjoy! February 2009
1. DO YOU LIKE BLUE CHEESE?
Sometimes
2. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN DRUNK?
No (<- this is a lie)
3. DO YOU OWN A GUN?
Ew
4. WHAT FLAVOR OF KOOL AID IS YOUR FAVORITE?
Was, still is, and will always be...Grape
5. DO YOU GET NERVOUS BEFORE DOCTOR APPOINMENTS?
Not any more.
6. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF HOT DOGS?
I think they are the perfect food. Baseball, camp fires, low on cash? Grab a hot dog.
7. FAVORITE CHRISTMAS MOVIE?
Love Actually
8. WHAT DO YOU PREFER TO DRINK IN THE MORNING?
These days, grape drink ( <-I was knocked up!)
9. CAN YOU DO PUSH-UPS?
I can push up my boobs and also a window.
10. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE PIECE OF JEWELRY?
My wedding rings, awwwww.
11. FAVORITE HOBBY?
Does eating count as a hobby? (Yep! Pregnant!)
12. DO YOU HAVE A.D.D.?
No
13. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SHOE?
Sandals or slippy's
14. MIDDLE NAME?
Broadway
15. NAME 3 THOUGHTS RIGHT NOW AT THIS MOMENT.
Boobs, bethany's eye's hurt, heroin (this answer makes sense to no one but I didn't want to change any answers)
16. 3 DRINKS YOU REGULARLY DRINK?
Grape drink, Milk, Coffee
17. CURRENT WORRY?
Squeezing a baby out of my vagina without getting a hemmy (TRUTH!)
18. CURRENT HATE RIGHT NOW?
People who hate the gays and also that Norman Gentile guy on American Idol.
20. HOW DID YOU BRING IN THE NEW YEAR?
Sleeping
21. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO?
Hawaii
22. DO YOU OWN SLIPPERS?
Yes , I am wearing them now at work.
23. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?
2 shirts. White and Grey.
24. DO YOU LIKE SLEEPING ON SATIN SHEETS?
The thought of my nasty feet snagging the sheet is simply too much for me to ever deal with.
25. CAN YOU WHISTLE?
In my alternate and completely made up life, I can whistle very well thank you.
26. FAVORITE COLOR?
Red
27. WOULD YOU BE A PIRATE?
Thankfully, I already am.
28.WHAT SONGS DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?
I make them up about the parts of my body... SCANDALOUS!!!
29. FAVORITE GIRLS NAME?
Lola
30. FAVORITE BOYS NAME?
Silas P. Silas
31. WHAT'S IN YOUR POCKET RIGHT NOW?
Love
32. LAST THING THAT MADE YOU LAUGH?
My girls, last night.
33. BEST BED SHEETS AS A CHILD?
UGH...These questions...
34. WORST INJURY YOU HAD AS A CHILD?
Dudes, I had vagina stitches at the tender age of 8. Worst, Day. Ever.
35. DO YOU LOVE WHERE YOU LIVE?
I DO love where I live!
36. WHO IS YOUR LOUDEST FRIEND?
That'd be a tie between McTwinkle and Dancer
37. HOW MANY DOGS DO YOU HAVE?
One dog, One beastamal
38. DOES SOMEONE HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU?
Always
39. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BOOK?
That's a hard one, There are so many. Probably Where the Red Fern Grows, because no matter how old I am when I read it, I cry and hope that this time Old Dan and Little Ann grow old together. Sigh.
40. FAVORITE CANDY?
That's silly. You can't pick a favorite candy when Candy is
your favorite food group.
41. FAVORITE SPORTS TEAM?
STEELERS FOOTBALL
42. SONG YOU WANT PLAYED AT YOUR FUNERAL.
I will not be dying
45. A PHOTOGRAPH?
That's me looking fancy the way a fourteen year old girl, circa 1985, looks fancy. In my spare time I also enjoy the TV show SMASH and playing with my phone's picture apps. I believe with all of my heart that every picture is made better with a rainbow screen. | January 2013 1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?Yes. My grandmother. 2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?This morning. You might have heard that I cry all the time. This is true. 3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?No, I do not. I wish that I had my wife's handwriting. I've been known to have her write things on cakes and craft projects for me. 4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?Sa- (to the) La (to the) MI. Specifically hard salami. Heh, I said hard salami. 5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? They have me. 6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?Not to brag but I am a loyal friend. So I totally would. 7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?Never, that's ridiculous. 8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?Yepper! 9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?I am the one person that would get caught up in the cord and die. So no, thank you. Eff that noise. 10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?Can I get a witness for some Golden Grahams?! 11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?Never. I mean, who does that? 12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?Mentally I am crazy strong. She-Hulk strong, actually. Physically? Not so much. Unless you think making people inside your body is a strong thing to do. If so, I am. BAM! 13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?Obviously this isn't a fair question. I will not betray ice cream this way. Perhaps a better question is "which flavor do you buy more often"? That answer is Breyers Rocky Road. 14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?Smile or lack of smile. 15. RED OR PINK?RED! 16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?My toes. They are ridiculous. They know what they did. 17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?My Bo. He's been gone almost 2 years. I still talk to him every day. He visits my dreams all the time and that helps. 18. WHAT IS THE TECHNIQUE THAT YOU NEED TO WORK ON THE MOST?Concentration/ focus. I am so easily distracted I...hold on a sec... 19. WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?Zebra slipper socks 20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?I can't admit to that or I have to tell my Facebook weight loss group. 21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?The ever adorable (eye-ball twitching) and super fun (torturous) monkey noises of Curious George. 22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?<busts through a red curtain wearing a sequined gown and a 20 pound wig and sings...> "RE-Eh-YED!!! RED!" 23. FAVORITE SMELLS?Coffee. And also coffee. 24. HOW IMPORTANT ARE YOUR POLITICAL VIEWS TO YOU?Very. Super duper very.I have ideas. 25. MOUNTAIN HIDEAWAY OR BEACH HOUSE? Beach house. Do people pick the mountains? Is that a thing? 26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?Steelers football! 27. HAIR COLOR?How rude... 28. EYE COLOR?Blue 29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?No 30. FAVORITE FOOD?Cake with too much frosting 31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?My 20-something self: Scary movies by a mile! My 30-something mom self: Happy endings. 32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?Les Miserables....twas the hugest disappointment of all time forever. 33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?Red 34. SUMMER OR WINTER?Summer. Summer. Summer. 35. FAVORITE DESSERT?There was this one time in Georgetown at an Indian resturant that I ate a pureed mango, frozen then rolled in cream and almonds. I saw God that day. 36. STRENGTH TRAINING OR CARDIO?Gross 37. COMPUTER OR TELEVISION?Television on the computer?
38. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?Sadly nothing and this depresses me greatly. 39. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?Awwww, you said mouse pad. 40. FAVORITE SOUND?The laughter of my kids when they are laughing together.
41. FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC?That Bluegrass meets Rock n Roll meets Indie Rock meets Jam Band sound? That one. 42. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?Mexico. So lame. Not Mexico. Mexico was not lame. My lack of travel is the lame-ness. 43. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?I dabble in the singing. 44. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?Riddle me this...What's round on the sides and high in the middle? 45. DO YOU LIKE ANSWERING 45 QUESTIONS?I might have pressured Elaine into tagging me. So yes. | In following the grand tradition I shall now tag some people that I want to play along. You can do the same lists that I did or do completely different lists. You can decide to not do a list at all. No pressure. It wouldn't hurt my feelings at all. I'm serious. I'm not sensitive. Ok, that's a lie. I'm a bit sensitive but I won't be mad. I think. No, no I really won't. Don't worry. Ok, so I might. But I will get over it. Please don't unfriend me on Facebook while I process the hurt.. IT WILL PASS. I'm just telling you how I feel. I love you. Was that too much? It might have been too much. Forgive me. Let's go back and try again. If you don't do it, it will be fine by me. Truly. xoxoxo. Consider it, Kelly? What about you, Jenn? JoEllen! What say you? Hayley, you know you want to! Molley, you are dying to do this, right? And finally Karen....Let's do this Karen. If I didn't tag you and you want in on this Motown Philly, just yell at me in the comments or on Twitter or on Facebook. I will apologize profusley, beg your forgivness and tag the what what out of you. Yes I will. Don't forget to go see Elaine, too. She started this whole ball of awesome rolling.... Now pick any of these questions and give me YOUR answers...Pretty please.
Like most new mothers I dove into motherhood head first. I love being a mother. I love it in my DNA. I was supposed to be a mom. This little family that calls me theirs is the best thing that has ever happened to me. So why did I find myself crying in the car on the way to pick up our Chinese take-out last night? Well, I turned on the radio. "Karma Police, arrest this girl.....
Karma police I've given all I can. It's not enough. I've given all I can. But we're still on the payroll. This is what you'll get. This is what you'll get. This is what you'll get. When you mess with us..." ~Radiohead, Karma Police
My tears fell before I knew they were coming. So many all at once. There was a sadness that I had no idea was right there at the surface waiting for those words...for a minute there, I lost myself...
I had promised myself in 2012 to find my fancy. But I'm not there yet. I missed my deadline. I have a long way to go. And it's more than that. It's more than clothes, make-up and doing my hair. I know what it is that I am working toward. Mama. Wife. Me. In sync but not necessarily balanced. Not always in that order. I don't want to be a third of a mother, a wife or myself. I want to be all of those things, all of the time, without losing any part of myself.
But I'm not there yet. I still don't know how they fit together. My tendency to go all in on one with the hopes the other two will just fall into place is revealing itself a failure. Of course it is. Nothing works that way. I knew that before. But the reminder is good.
I am taking the timeline away. I need to stop telling myself that I have to figure it out by a certain day. A certain age. The pressure is too much. It defeats me. I am feeling a relief that comes with accepting that there are no concrete answers and there is no race to win. There is only today moving life forward. There is only this minute. And inside of a minute life is always good. Even if it's hard. Because we are here.
But I want it to be better.
The tears didn't ask permission to spill. They came to tell me that, for a minute there, I lost myself. And that there is work to do.
I am listening. And I am awake.
I was a late bloomer. While all my friends got their monthly moon (Ha! I've always wanted to write that. Monthly moon!) at like ten years old, I was the ripe old age of thirteen before my period started jacking up my feelings every 28 days. My boobs were late, too. My hips didn't go bam! til I was about sixteen and on and on and on...you get the point. I was a woman-child for a long time. Late late late. I still get carded. Well that's true only if I stay on top of my roots. Otherwise they see the copious amounts of grey hair crawling like an army from my scalp and let me have my Yuengling without batting an eye. Wow. I've gone way off course. Moving on. So the other night I stepped out for dinner and a movie with my girlfriends. The movie was a disappointment but the company and dinner were exactly what this mama needed after a month swimming in the pukey waters of Hell Home. Why am I bringing this up? What does this have to do with my period and grey hair? Nothing. But I wore a decorative scarf for the very first time (and just in time for everyone else to stop wearing them all together now that I've joined up). I have long admired the scarf wearing chutzpa of my friends. They look so adora-bibble and because I hate necklaces but love my neck covered (Was I hanged in a past life?), I have always wanted to jump on board the scarf as a fancy accessory train. So on Friday night I took the plunge. Who cares that I am four years late to this trend. I wore a mamma jamma scarf! But scarves are not the point of this post, either. It's the picture. Because Duuuudes, did you know you can turn the camera on your iPhone around? I'm sure you did. Actually, of course you did. Because everyone knew that several years ago. I am late to this party. I get that. It's a thing with me. But being late doesn't negate the fact that a) I will rock scarves even if no one else does anymore and b) being able to get in the picture with your friends where everyone's face is actually in frame is super fun. This brings me to actual point of this post. How many times have you looked through the album "Little Boo-Boo Pumpkin Butt's 1st Christmas" on a friend's Facebook page only to see not one picture of your friend? I know I'm guilty of this too. But a few months ago I read this post by Allison Tate and I decided I wanted a better record of our life together, not just everyone else's life except mine. I decided that even if I look like I've been run over by a perogie van, I want pictures of me with my family. But it was hard to step out from behind the camera, man, because well I have control issues. I was doing pretty good in asking Daddy to take pics of me with the kids but well, I don't have to explain that dudes suck at that right? (I love you honey!) But seriously, it's some kind of mom virus I think. The urge to take a picture. To document. Dudes don't have it. Don't hate me, male reader, you know I'm right. You know it. It's always a little weird to ask Daddy to take a picture of a tender spontaneous moment. "Hey babe? Can you go get the camera and take a pic of this amazingly sweet trifecta snuggle we have going on here? Oh wait forget it, they've run away" So despite my goals to get back into the pictures, it wasn't going all that great. Better, but not great. Until now...  Clockwise: 1. Good Morning! 2.NYE Oreo party! 3. Sick baby helps mama meet her writing deadline. 4. Just a couple of fancy ladies. Because Mama got an iPhone and it does magic. So yeah, I'm several years behind the times, my friends. But I'm still extremely, overly and obnoxiously in love with my new iPhone. Because that little bedazzled and glittering box of love (I mean, I shouldn't have to tell you that my case sparkles, right?) is my new all-the-time camera. Mostly because my other camera has been lost for months but also because even if I find it someday, it won't be able to voodoo capture my mug with the kids like the iPhone can. And we've got some photo shoots to catch up on...  Amazing photo shoot with my favorite little dude.  Hello? Who's in that box, mama? Oh look! It's me! Are you staying in the picture? >  |
Linking up once again with the spectacular Greta and Julie for the #iPPP link up. And I'm no longer a Droid using imposter. I've got a real iPhone now. Bam!
|
I don't do New Year's resolutions. Because I never keep them. So why set myself up for failure, right? But it seems I already made two and it's not even 10 am yet. I'm not in trouble though. I'm not wishing for the moon. I just whispered a few small promises into the air this morning. No life altering stuff. Just life stuff. New Year's Eve didn't start out well. In fact it started out downright sucky sucktastic. Double ear infection was the word on the street and Mr. Pants wasn't feeling a celebration. On the way to the doctor he asked me, "Mama? I go a doctor? I go asleep? I scared, Mama" My heart broke into a million pieces as he began to cry a very throat punching cry. You know the one. Silent. Wide eyes. Fearful. "Mama, I scared." he said again. All my wishing for him to forget his surgery didn't seem to do the trick. He remembers. And the memory is scary. So as I drove my boy to the doctor on New Year's Eve, I began to quietly cry for him. "No one is going to hurt you today, bud. You don't have to go to sleep at the doctor today, baby. Mama will stay with you and it won't hurt. I promise." "Ok, mama. I go to sleep?" "No bud, no sleep at the doctor today. She is gonna look at your ouchies in your ears so we can get medicine to make them feel better. Just like we looked in Buzz's ears at home, remember?" "Ok, Mama. I scared" as his lip and chin began to quiver again. Being a mom is just heart ripping sometimes, isn't it? It didn't go well at the doctor. Mr. Pants began to panic almost immediately. It was brutal and I won't describe it because he and I don't need a play by play. Instead I have made my first New Year's Resolution in years and years. Resolution number one is for you, Mr. Pants. I promise that starting right now, I will work with you in safe and stress-free ways to help you become less afraid of the doctor. I promise. You and me, buddy. Let's do this.  Chocolate milk helps at the end of a stressful doctor visit So by the time we got home, Mr. Pants was whooped. I tried to coax some dinner of frozen pizzas and chips into him. I mean it's New Year's Eve! Junk food is the rule for sickies on a holiday, right? But he wasn't into it and was in bed for the night at five. FIVE. You know a 3 year old is sick when he puts himself to bed at five. That left Plum and I to celebrate alone since Daddy was at work making fancy food for the masses. Here at home we had our own fancy feast. Side note: when your allergies are milk, eggs and peanuts, good desserts can be hard to come by. But I was prepared. There isn't a lot of junk food that passes the "safe for Plum" test but there is one we can always count on. The classic Oreo. Throw in some So Delicious chocolate ice cream and we had a straight up party. Just the two of us. We played dress-up and danced to our favorite tunes. We ate our junk food and sang some songs. Basically we partied pretty hard by toddler standards. So hard that we needed to make some costume changes half way through. By the time seven-thirty rolled around, Plum was plum tuckered. She told me it was time to go to bed and have some nucks (milks). She was out cold by 7:40 pm on New Year's Eve. Resolution number two is for you, Plum. I promise to play dress-up with you more often than not. We are gonna get super crazy fancy up in this house this year, baby girl. Oh, yes. Yes we are. The house was quiet. Too quiet for New Year's Eve. I mean there was a day when this night brought all kinds of mayhem and tomfoolery. Even hijinks. Lots and lots of shenanigans and, well, you get the point. Drunk and stumble-y, I kissed many many strangers and not strangers at midnight, you guys. I wore sparkling sequins and danced for hours in shoes that tortured my feet at parties where the liquor flowed like water. Sparklers and fireworks. Sweaty glittery skin. Foil covered walls. Velvet pants. Wigs and tiaras. People passed out in the yard. All very glamorous, really. And I had so much fun. Too much fun, maybe. But SO much fun. For years.
But it doesn't hold a candle to coconut milk ice cream and old dance costumes. It doesn't touch the awesomeness of digging into a bag of Oreos and watching YouTube videos of Yo Gabba Gabba tunes and miscelleneous other bits of awesome (What what, Whitney Houston! I knew you would blow Plum's mind. OOOOH! I wanna dance with some-bod-ay!!) while your baby dances and sings along. It doesn't compare to getting the medicine your sick kid needs to get better finally and knowing that he is sleeping peacefully in the next room.
Because my dream all along was to have a family. And sometimes that means sick kids and husbands working on a holiday. I'll take it anyway. So this year I rang in the New Year with this. It happens to be Pants and Plum's favorite song right now. And I think it's pretty rad.
And then I rang it in proper with this. Like I always do. And a grin sat knowingly on my face in my quiet quiet house of sleeping kids and I remembered (or had foggy ideas of blurry possabilities of) my younger days. Because they were great, too. They were really freaking great. And I danced by myself. And I laughed. I just cracked up. Remembering. Damn, we had some fun.
Mommy's alright. Daddy's alright. They just seem a little weird.... Surrender...Surrender...
Happy New Year ! Here's to a fan-freaking-tastic year loving your families be they biological or chosen.
Spread the love around and Surrender to 2013!
It's gonna be great.
xo
Mama Pants
Don't make my mistakes, dear reader. If you spend all of your free time in the day on your social media sites networking because you got some really awesome and exciting blog news (CLIFFHANGER!) and then spend your evening becoming reacquainted with the love of your life (Pinterest, duh), be sure to take an Ambien or dose yourself with Nyquil or something. Because, dudes? A Twitter meets Pinterest apocalypse dream is the real deal. It will destroy you. Sweet baby Santa, it will make you insane.
I'm not sure if I've ever seen anything like it in all of my days. Carnage and twitchy eyeballs meets gorgeous flowing vertical pom-pom wreaths and witty eCards. For hours. Scary stuff. So yes, if you find yourself in a pinning fit into the wee hours of the night, like I said, chug some wine, honk some Nyquil (KIDDING!), or whatever. You don't have to live through the pain of my last seven hours. Because I've done it for you!
Happiest of Sunday's to you, my friends! I will be napping all day (obvs) but lookie-lookie below! I'm pinning and shiz! If you click on that widget down there or the one to your right on the sidebar, it will take you to my boards and I'd love it if you come visit them. They are pretty and want you to love them.
And hold up...is that my REAL LIFE name? Ooooh snap. Come pin with me, friends!
{Sunday's Pearl: Something kind of like wisdom wrapped up in an idea or random bit of something or another. It might be something awesome, something awful or a lesson that I learned during the week. Every Sunday I put that lesson here. Let my wisdom words inspire or frighten you. xoxox, Mama Pants}
I was the only girl. I have two older brothers that protected me and taught me how to fart and think it's cool. This served me well in my childhood and still does to this day. But when I started my transformation into womanhood, they stopped understanding me. I mean, teenage boys cannot be made to understand sore boobs and periods right? Around thirteen is when it started. My love for metal music turned to dreams of falling deeply in love with drummers and gutarists. I didn't want to get muddy any more. I wanted my hair spiral permed, dammit and I wanted to lay on my bed and feel deep and very serious feelings about my future marriage to 2/3 of Motley Crue. These things served to temporarily drive a wedge in our sibling relationship. My brothers just wouldn't ever understand me or the importance of perfectly applied blue liquid eyeliner. In retrospect, this must have been the time I began searching the world over for my sisters. Because there comes a time in every teenager's life when it is obvious that no one in their life could ever really get them or feel their pain. So I became proactive and searched for my tribe. One by one I found them. All thirteen of them. Twenty-ish years later we are a pretty damn strong band of sisters. We are each others chosen family. Our love for each other has weathered just about every big life shitstorm you can think of. You know those times when you really can't get out of bed because your world has come crashing down around you? Divorce. Cancer. Death. Or the times when you are so full of joy you need others to explode with excitement alongside you? Weddings. Babies born. Promotions. New stomach flipping love. My sisters have been there. For all of it. Integral to our love affair with each other is our yearly trip to the woods to commune with nature. Ha! Not really, well we are in the woods but that’s about as natural as it gets. We spend our days watching movies and nights in the hot tub. Adorned with temporary tattoos, drag queen make up and wigs. Also glow sticks. Many many glow sticks. We give each other gifts of our favorite things, just like Oprah. “YOU get a pair of rainbow socks! And YOU get a pair of rainbow socks! And YOU!”. Four days of awesome. Four days of no responsability. No rules. No expectations. No reality. Just play. We are ridiculous.
We eat delicious foods like 99 cent pizzas and brownies. We paint our toenails and stage photo shoots fourteen year old girl style. We drink a bit. We do cartwheels. And sing the Star Spangled banner around campfires.
We trespass in corn fields.
We dance. We roll around in the grass. And play with our camera settings.
 DUDE my phone has hypercolor! Then we head home to the real world of sick kids, paperwork and wiping butts. We come back to the world ready once again to hold the line when a sister has a broken heart, a lost job or enters a shame spiral in the Target changing room. We are ready to link arms and form a blockade around a sister who needs protecting. We eat our feelings together and then pick each other up off the ground and choreograph a dance routine to feel better. We are a family. A family of fourteen year old girls masquerading as responsible adults and mothers and professionals.
 Saying goodbye And we totally have everyone fooled.
Now I want to know about your people. Who is in your chosen family?
 I need new shoes Motivation to change is hard to come by for me. I cling to what I know. I always have. That's why it was hard to leave my job. Hard to believe that I would ever find love after my divorce. Let alone be blessed with children. I am at my most comfortable when I feel in control. And I never feel more out of control than when I look inside myself and take a hard look. So I tend to ignore those things about me that I need to change. Even though I wish for them. Even though I know it needs to happen. My tendency to put all of my energies out into the world instead of sharing some of that love with myself has led me to the place I am today. I'm happy. I love my family. My friends are seriously the best friends in all of the Universe. I am loved. I love. But when I lay down in bed at night there is something eating at me. I'm overweight. And not just by a little.
I lay there wishing that I could have made better decisions. Lamenting the fact that I am fat. Yearning for the girl in the photographs years ago that was able to jog alongside her dog and even enjoyed it. The thought of that girl makes me sad. If only I could go back and tell her to take steps to avoid holding onto baby weight like some kind of twisted prize. A badge. A coat of armor. Protecting me from what? Who knows. When you have lived your life playing mind games with yourself and your love and hate of food, you end up coming by some messed up ideas about eating. You end up using food to reward and punish yourself. It's all so embarrassingly unhealthy.
I'm not writing this for anyone but myself. Well also for Plum but that's another post that I am having a hard time writing. Because to be honest, how do you encourage your little girl to love her body when you aren't walking the talk? The answer is that you don't.
So here is where I try and force myself out of the gate. By laying my heart here. And also my brain. I need to introduce the two of them since they seem to work on opposite schedules and rarely mingle. My heart wants health. My brain tells me I can't possibly get there. It tells me to give up. To not even try because I will fail. My brain lies and tells me that I'm just fine the way that I am. It says that the cookies on the counter will make me feel better. It tells me that my back injury will be aggravated if I exercise. My heart wants badly to beat the shit out of my brain.
So it is with my heart that I come to this keyboard tonight. I can. I will. I am worth this. My brain is an asshole.
I started this week. Three days ago I finally spoke up in a fitness group with some friends online. I was invited months ago. I pretended I wasn't. Three days ago, I raised my shaking hand. I'm here. I'm gonna try. I'm gonna do more than try. Please help me get there. And they said, you can do it. And I'm so proud of you. And we will help.
So that's where I am. I've started.
Today, I asked Daddy Pants if he thought we could try to exercise as a whole family once a week. The rest I will do on my own but maybe just once a week, we all do it. I think it would be a great lesson for the kids. He was all for it. So today, that's what we did. We walked for two miles. Took a break by the bog and turned back. It was a beautiful crisp Fall day.  Walking, riding, biking  Carry my bike, Daddy |  Taking a break by the bog  Duck walking the bridge | When we got back the car, I was more than a little winded. I had worked up a sweat. On purpose. My feet hurt. My cheeks were cold. I had a little snot trying to run out of my nose too. And I was proud of myself. It felt good.
The bottom line is that I don't want to be skinny. I really don't. I won't be sad if my belly is soft for the rest of my life. My belly earned that relaxation, man. I don't need to be cut or have a tight ass. I just want to be a healthy weight. So that's what began this week. My heart sucker punched my brain. Tricking her into thinking it was all her idea. My heart telling my brain, hey you have to want this for yourself. And guess what? I do. I do want it. So it's time.
Now I just need to get a new pair of shoes. Because holy shit, my feet hurt.  Sweaty. Red face. My feet hurt. Linking up this week with the fabulous Elaine over at The Miss Elaine-ous Life.
 Don't hate me because I'm 20 and fancy What does Fancy mean to you? What makes you feel it? How do you make sure you are taking the time to care for the fancy inside of you? These are the questions that I have for myself. And also for you. I'm gearing up to add a whole new element to this here blog. One that is gonna pretty much rule. A blog within a blog. And it's called Fancy Pants. What in the world is Fancy Pants, you ask? Well let me explain. I have written about my journey to fancy. I have lamented my lost fancy. I have made a few strides in the right direction but I'm nowhere near where I want to be. I came across this picture of myself recently and was all, "Damn, I really was fancy!" And I started wondering how it is even possible to get to that feeling again. You know after gaining weight, growing two people inside my body and losing any firmness in my boobs. Seriously, what's fancy about a grapefruit in a tube sock? That's right, I just told you that my boobs sag like crazy. How in the world, for the love of Regis, did I get so from fancy at thirty-six years old that it will take me all year long to regain just a smidgey of that fancy lady over there (never mind how bad I want those arms back). But a pinch is all I need. And maybe that dress back. I mean that dress is probably the fanciest dress this side of anywhere. Fancy isn't the same for everyone. I mean, sure, sequins and ruby red lips help. And fringe. Fringe makes everything fancy. But fancy is a feeling. It's the confidence and strength that comes from feeling fulfilled. Feeling good. It's guilt free and freeing. It makes you feel alive and reminds you that you are enough. That you can be and fulfill all the goals you set for yourself. And you can do that while wiping butts and picking boogers out of your kid's nose too. We don't have to give up our fancy, because we are parents. Even though sometimes it feels that way.
So here's where YOU come in. Fancy Pants isn't about me. It's about all of us. Mamas who are taking the time to care for ourselves and find that feeling again. Finding a way to bring together the mom and the woman. Bringing them together to create our best self. Without guilt. Without judgment. Finding a way to care for ourselves and our families. It sounds so easy but we know it's not. You know it's sometimes just a very hard thing to do. So I propose that we journey together and inspire each other. That we read each other's stories and get fancy together. One post at a time. One Friday at a time. Whadya say? Are you with me? Here's what you need to know... 1. Every Friday there will be a new story. A new inspiration. I hope that you will consider sending yours. Pretty please! Seriously, you have to.
2. Write whatever you want. However you want. Tell me, what makes you feel fancy? How did you find your fancy? Are you still looking for it? Do you have a secret for finding it?
3. Visuals are encouraged, but not required.
4. When you send a submission, include a bio line or two at the bottom of your post. Example -> "Mama Pants is a mama of two and eats fancy for breakfast. She is also a Midwestern gem. You can find her writing her lil heart out over at www.theadventuresofthefamilypants.com".
5. Contribute as many posts as you want. Long, short, serious, funny, or raunchy. I want it all. I really do.
6. Come back every Friday starting in July for a new post on the Fancy Pants page.
SEND ALL SUBMISSIONS TO: thefamilypants@gmail.com
Now what are you waiting for? What makes you feel fancy? I'm dying to know!
 Wow. Don't let this happen to you. Practice taking pictures of yourself in the mirror. Because no matter how bad you want to take a good picture of yourself because you have a new haircut and aren't wearing a t-shirt and are even wearing jewelry and are out to dinner with your lady friends, you won't get a good shot without practice. And you certainly won't get a good shot while in the bathroom because you will be afraid that someone is going to come in and see you taking pictures of yourself and think you are a douche. So practice practice practice. Because nothing say's, "I'm getting my fancy back" more than looking like I just did a line off the toilet seat.
Back when I was a college freshman I took a trip with my main gay, J. My first time in the big city. I was more than excited and more than ready to take New York City by her cheeks and kiss her on the lips. Dressed as glamour mechanics in matching grease monkey jumpsuits, painted makeup, red bandanas and silver lace up boots, we boarded the plane. On our first night there I learned never to trust anyone named Neko near your open nostrils (close call) and we met the most amazing drag queen I've ever met named Jaqueline who taught me how to properly eat a bagel with cream cheese. She shreiked as though being killed when she saw me get the butter knife out to spread the cheese. "Oh honey, no no no no no. Give that to me. Let me show you. Like a sandwich." I loved her. But mostly I learned that I was a brave girl. I ruled NYC for four days and five nights dressed as a psycho soccer baby or in my shimmering silver mini dress. I came home with not a single picture from that maiden voyage to the city I love. Not one. We were too busy eating up the scenery dressed in our finest club gear, slipping into club after club and pretending like we lived there. But what I did come home with was an electric blue see through polyurethane jacket. That I opened a credit card for. And spent way too much on. But when you are on Christopher St. for the first time in your life, it's magical. Between sex shops and shops about sex and peep shows and bondage stores, you just might discover a shop filled with polyurethane clothing (and cages) calling to your 21 year old self like a siren in the night. That jacket was a dream. The jacket never really worked back in my home town. It was a city jacket. It was never meant for small town America. It was hot and made me sweat bullets everytime I put it on. It made an appearance at a few clubs but mostly it stayed in my closet as a reminder of four days in my life where I felt larger than life. The jacket has been lost for years. It lives only in my memory now. And when I think about it, it glows. I miss it. I have been trying to regain my fanciness. I am taking baby steps. I cut my hair. I shower many times a week and I have been trying to put on a little make up recently too. I've started to make some shopping trips to build up a wardrobe that includes more than t shirts and yoga pants. It's slow going and I have to be very frugal as money is tight but I'm determined to keep on. And when I walked into the local discount clothing store recently, I had a moment. Turning the sunglasses display, I saw them. I think a light may have shone down on them. Enormous and electric blue. Instanly I thought of the jacket. I hadn't thought of her in a very long time. My heart lept for minute and I knew I had to have them. The $3.99 price tag didn't hurt. I put them on and instantly felt fancy. And a pang of sadness. I missed feeling like this. It has been a long time. Becoming a mom is my greatest dream come true. But I can not lose sight of that fancy girl in New York City. Because she is also me. We are both me. So that night I wore my new sunglasses out to dinner with Daddy, Pants and Plum. Both kids stared at me with eyes of wonder as if to say, "Whoa mom, what's up with your face?". I'd peer out from behind the glasses and say "Hi!" to remind them that their mama was behind the giant blue orbs. Sitting down to dinner, I push the glasses up to my head. Mr. Pants stares at them for awhile. Hops down. Saunters over and begins jabbering to me in Pantsinese. Clearly English words were failing him in light of this amazing discovery he had made. Slowly his hand reaches up to my new sunglasses. "ud-go?", he says as he cautiously takes them from atop my head. "ud-go?", he says again as he gingerly slips them onto his own face, hops down and heads back to his seat. The mom in me loving him like crazy for finishing his dinner with my gigantic glasses on. The mom in me can't fault the kid for wanting some fanciness too. And the fancy girl in me making a plan to head back to that store to buy up the other four pairs of those glasses. So that both parts of me can breathe easy.
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