31 for 31

Happy Monday!

I turned 31 on Friday. Please don't sing "Happy Birthday." The only reason I don't post my birthday on Facebook is because I avoid that song like the plague. I hate it. HATE IT. Have you ever noticed the more people involved in singing it, the more out of tune everyone is? What is that about?

Anyway, as much as I would have loved to do a second year of good deeds to match my age, I was working (saving days off for my honeymoon) and really did not have the budget. However, I did come up with an idea to celebrate my 31 years of age and, um, wisdom.

So, here you go. Thirty-one of my personal tips and tricks I've collected throughout the years.

Let It Go ...

Sorry there aren't more
photos in the post.
I was busy doing mom
things at Target.

No, I am not referring to the newest song terrorizing parents and Facebook feeds. I'm using that title to refer to the feeling a parent must get when they can't say exactly what's on their mind when others are observing either them or their children. But, for anyone who just wants a glimpse into the mind of a parent whose child is currently doing her thing and being 3, this is what we're really thinking. And how we wish to respond, but can't because we're trying to set an example.

To the woman who is "helping" me locate my child who is currently running through the store because she didn't want to sit in the cart.

Believe it or not, I recognize my daughter's footsteps. They haunt me. I hear them at ungodly hours on weekends, creeping slowly to my bed to wake me up. I hear them chasing the cat around the house. I can hear them running in an opposite direction or coming toward me. I know as soon as I unwrap any sort of food for myself, those footsteps will soon follow. I can hear them stop and know, after about two minutes of silence, to see what she's up to.

She's not a light stepper. And I'm OK with that.

Why I Like My Fitbit

This post has been loooong overdue. Basically, any post I write has been overdue. But, here's the reason. It's small. Clips to my bra. Has helped in me losing about 10 pounds. (Well, 15, if you count some of the weight I put on over the holidays that I considered temporary padding for the winter months.)

It's the Fitbit.

This little Tamagotchi-looking thing is probably the best thing to happen to keeping up motivation since warm weather and bikini-season scare tactics.

Since joining the gym in December, I was getting my workouts in and tracking my calories through MyFitnessPal. But I knew the motivation wouldn't last. Especially since buying a wedding dress in a size I could already fit into -- call me crazy, but I never believed in fearing I'd look like an overstuffed sausage in wedding photos.

So, my friend and gym buddy suggested we get the Fitbit. We could track our steps, compete against each other and whoever else we knew who had one, track our weight loss and hopefully keep up the motivation.

It's her party, and I'll cry if I want to

Even this party planning committee would be in
hell trying to find a space for a 3-year-old's party.

I am currently in the throes of planning L.'s third birthday party. It's kind of awful. When the fiance set out to finish the basement, I was told there was a good chance it would be done by the end of February, early March at the latest. Well, there was a snag when the guy who was supposed to hook up the heat had to get surgery on his hand and we now have no idea when it will be done.

Our upstairs is way too small for 15 adults and 5 children. Heck, when we have a simple playdate, it seems crowded!

We recently went to a birthday party for one of Layla's friends and the condo had a nice open floorplan, perfect for kettling little ones, while keeping the parents on the sidelines to act as ropes in a wrestling ring and bounce them back in.

So, last night, about four hours were spent on Google looking for a space to hold L.'s "The Lorax" themed birthday. Holy. Moly. First off, let's put some things into perspective:

Kicking butt

I recently took a new job, hence the lack of posts in the past month.

I've learned with myself that if there's a big change in my life, I need to give myself time to adjust. Maybe it's my INTJ personality, or maybe I've just learned that I adjust better when I can focus all of my energy on something, rather than just trying to get it to "fit in" with everything else I have going on.

But, enough of the reasoning/excuses.

I want to talk about another recent change. And, to be honest, I can see it being controversial, at best. Especially since the change I made impacted something I was very private about to begin with. Something I don't like to admit, but feel I should.

Only in the '80s could parents
take a photo like this and have
it be considered "funny."

 I am was a smoker.

Let's start way back ...

Well, not that far back.

Back when I was in college. My freshman year. I was on my winter break and I had $5 to my name. I could either use that to get something to eat and worry about starving for the rest of the week and mooching off my parents for food, or, as a friend put it, I could buy a pack of cigarettes and the hunger would go away.

Thoughts for my future high schooler

Having L. as a toddler right now, she's very happy with the world in general, I think. It's difficult to understand tantrums that come from things like not wanting to get dressed or not being able to fit a toy potato into a toy tea kettle because, in my head, if that's the worst part of your day, life's pretty damn good.

Me circa 1999 before our Sadie
Hawkins dance. Oh, the extreme
awkwardness of having to
ask a boy out!

It's difficult to imagine this child getting older and becoming immersed in a world of technology and dealing with social pressures that come with it. I can't imagine that added to the stress and anxiety that happens during the awkward high school years.

Even though it was more than 10 years ago, I still cringe a bit when I think of how every little thing that happened was so extreme within my own mind back then.

I wish I could impart to her what I wish I could have told my high school self. I'm pretty sure most, if not all of these, will still be relevant when L. is old enough to have to worry about such things:

Why I like Myers-Briggs

Last year, as part of my obsession with immersion into all things The Art of Simple (formerly Simple Mom), I listened to Tsh's podcasts on my commute to and from work. One of the topics she talked about was Myers-Briggs personalities.

I took a little psychology in high school, but I had never heard of Myers-Briggs. I decided to take a test to find out what my type was. I assumed the personalities wouldn't be that much different and it was possible this was another pop-psychology personality test. Like those quizzes in magazines in which I would usually find myself answering with all Bs and the answer key would tell me I am smack-dab in the middle of everything. Yawn. Oh, but I was wrong. And learning about Myers-Briggs and my personality type has actually helped me dramatically in finding out more about how I function, as well as how I thrive in certain environments and feel uncomfortable in others.

Happy New Year!

From the Self-Evident Supermom household to yours, have a very happy new year!

It's as if she's mocking me,
saying, "Oh, you fool,
you think 2 is bad? Wait."

This year will bring a new job (surprise, surprise!), a new schedule for both me and L., the dreaded Terrible 3s (3 is the new 2, have you heard?), potty training (ugh, eventually), a wedding, L. starting school and, hopefully, more topics to write on and more productivity, all while trying to maintain simplicity.

Every year, I make 10 resolutions. I figure I have chance to keep at least one.

Before I set my goals for 2014, I'd like to just take a minute to list my accomplishments of 2013. Not for bragging purposes, but as inspiration that sometimes, despite what my inner critic thinks, I can do it!

Christmas Eve thoughts

Right now, I'm currently without my daughter on Christmas Eve. It's sad. I don't have cookies and milk out, although I know Santa will come. (The photo shown at the right was taken a few weeks ago.) 

Our Elf, Banjo, has already flown back to the North Pole until next year. L.'s presents are packed in a bag and about to be put into the car to be carted around tomorrow instead of under the tree.

This is the sucky side of Christmas for a child of divorce. SO much travel between all the houses of parents and grandparents and soon-to-be step-grandparents.

But, instead of the few paragraphs I wrote then deleted complaining about how much divorce is affecting our plans tomorrow and how inconvenient all the traveling will be for L., I'm just going to count my blessings instead of sheep tonight because even Santa Supermom has her nights of the "Bah! Humbugs!" But that doesn't stop tomorrow from coming, as the Grinch learned. And it won't stop Christmas from being magical for L., as well as all those who love her. And that's the most important part of Christmas.

Happy Holidays to all!

Simply listening to a wonderful Christmas song (Why I Like "Wonderful Christmastime")

Something happened between last year and this one. I don't know what the sociological shift was, but it made everyone decide they *hate* Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Chirstmastime." Maybe they already hated it, though. But it was this year it seemed those people decided to post about it on social media. At least once a week, a status would pop in my feed about hating the song. Even my beloved Simple Mom posted about it. It was as if my friends realized, "OK, YOLO (or some other Carpe Diem-esque statement), I can now admit that I don't like something one of The Beatles did without looking like an ignorant child saying I hate mommy and daddy's music generation."

To those people, all I can say is, "Come on! That's your least favorite Christmas song? Really? Of everything out there?"

Never would I ever ...

Don't let the smile fool you, there is FEAR in those eyes.

"When I'm a parent ... "

Let me stop you right there, oh childless ones who say these words. You think you're so wise. Well, I hate to speak in terms of absolutes, but you're not. Despite how many kids you've babysat for or how many younger siblings you've taken care of, you have no idea how your mind somehow changes and, dare I say it, warps  when you have a child of your very own. A child you're responsible for shaping and turning into a decent human being. Not to mention, you have to keep this child alive! And, though a lofty goal, at the very least, you picture these happy, heartfelt moments with your children 24/7.

I won't spoil the surprise for when you find out in the first 48 hours at home with your new child that these heartfelt moments are hard to come by when you're not even sure what you're supposed to do with this little one and you're sleep deprived and you're questioning every single thing you're doing and wondering if you're doing them all wrong.

And, as soon as you find the answer you're looking for and something "works," the next day, you'll be searching for a new answer to a new question and/or the answer you just found that worked will no longer work.

A toddler and her stomach bug

Banjo recovers quickly from losing her magic
on her first day.

As I previously mentioned, L. got her Elf on the Shelf and promptly began hugging, kissing and dancing with her. While the fiance and I were away, we sent Banjo to the North Pole to get her magic back. Santa sent us a photo of her progress and she came back, fully recovered. Now, that was an easy-peasy thing to remedy.

When it comes to your own children, however, not only do you learn there is nothing you won't do for your child, but you also take on this inner strength you might not regularly know you have. It's not the inner strength that shows itself when they're having a meltdown in the grocery store. It's not the inner strength that could come in handy when prompted to "all fall down" at the end of "Ring Around the Rosey" for the 40th time and you're not sure you will have the energy to stand up again. It's the inner strength that comes when you've reached what you perceive to be your limit and just keep going. Similar to the phrase mouthed by mothers to children, "Because I said so," when faced with a challenge, mothers subsequently tell ourselves, "Because I have to."

Holidays don't have to equal stress

Some tips I've accumulated over the years to cut down the holiday stress. Some are wholesome, some not so much ...

Beating SADD

The Lights at Virginia Beach, where the fiance and I
went for Thanksgiving.

I felt my seasonal grumpies start in October, of all things. There's been a lot of stress at work and at home while we slowly moved into our house. I lost about 40 minutes a day in the car because my commute is longer. I was pretty busy when November hit and I kind of took it one day at a time to try to make myself happy anyway I could (Read: Goodbye, diet. Hello comfort food.)

Once the end of November hit, while most people complained about how early people were pushing Christmas, I was happy to see decorations up. I had remembered my trick last year to staying positive.

The stuff I used to judge ...

Before I was a mom, well, let's just say I wish I could go back and slap myself in the face for judging any other parent ever in the history of the world. Except when I judged "Mommie Dearest." I think that was the only one that was OK to have an opinion on.

The truth is, parents are doing the best we can. As much as I thought to my "wiser" (read: wiseass) self, "Oh, when I'm a mom, I won't _____(fill in the blank)___ like that mom over there," I had no right to even have an opinion. Even if it was a positive one. Because you don't know until you are a parent.

Reminder: You're only human

I've heard that phrase plenty of times. I don't know what it is about me, and maybe women in general, but I've noticed we try to do it all. Commercials in the '80s pushed the idea when moms were going back to the workplace and advertisers were marketing things like pumps you could also play basketball in. And I'm sure the intentions were good, despite slightly sexist undertones. Regardless, it seems to be universally known that women try to take everything on.

2:30 in the morning the day
 before Halloween, I was
 hot gluing L.'s hat for her
 costume. Sleep was not even
 an option in my mind.

It's difficult to say no. No one likes disappointing others. In my case, I try to be as good of a mother as possible, which means avoiding any form of mom guilt. I work a full-time job in which the last month, I was working six-day weeks. And, when it comes to the house, after moving in, sleep was such a back-burner priority, it was a source of guilt when there were boxes still left unpacked, yet I was tucking in for the night.

This mindset had to stop. First of all, I can't change the fact that there aren't enough hours in the day to do everything I should do or want to do. Secondly, I don't think anyone was expecting me to accomplish everything as quickly as I set myself up to in my mind.

Failure to Laugh

So, if you've seen my blog in the past week and a half, you've noticed I haven't posted anything. Unfortunately, when it came down to it, I picked the wrong year to try to participate in the 31 Days challenge. All week, I've had Kirsten Dunst's voice running through my head from "Elizabethtown" -- coincidentally another Cameron Crowe movie, the writer/director of "Almost Famous" from where the photo used in my 31 Days button comes from.

"You failed! You failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed ..."

Day 17: Making the connection

Today, I laughed at: the fiance telling me about the washer and dryer he bought us.
He apparently saw a sticker on it for WiFi and he just assumed it meant the washer and dryer would send up a text or maybe even Tweet at us when it was done.
Now, he had researched this washer and dryer through his tech-loving websites. He found this one that dried clothes in, get ready, 30 minutes. He was in love. 

The Kenmore Elite Steam
Washer and Dryer will
not text you when
the laundry's done.

There were even settings on the washer so if you were to leave clothes in overnight, it would intermittently circulate fresh air in as it tossed the clothes around. Same with the dryer so clothes wouldn't wrinkle.
This is a high tech washer and dryer he decided to buy from an outlet, after a discount for being a returned item. Watching him read the owner's manual online was almost uncomfortable, like he was watching adult entertainment. That's how excited he was about this washer and dryer.
When he got to the part about the WiFi sticker, though, he found out the washer and dryer would not be texting us when our clothes were ready. However, when we call for maintenance, the WiFi would transmit signals over our phones to the computer for diagnostic ... um ... things. I don't actually know exactly what it does, now that I think of it. I think I was laughing too hard at the disappointment he had mixed with the excitement over all the cool things our new gadgets could do. I love him and his gadgets.

Day 16: Top 5 Underrated Movies

Today, I laughed at: the fiance referencing "The Big Lebowski" while rug shopping at Ikea today.
L. was looking at rugs with us when she decided to climb on one. The fiance looked at the rug and said, "That rug really ties the room together."

"The Big Lebowski" is probably the fiance's favorite movie and, I have to agree, while I didn't laugh out loud when I saw it, I do appreciate its humor and I will still say it's a funny movie.
Most movies I consider funny aren't actually "laugh out loud movies," now that I think about them. But few of them had me holding my stomach the first time I saw them.
And that brings me to the topic of the post I originally wrote yesterday but, ugh, got deleted. (I won't even link to yesterday's sad excuse for a post).

Day 15: Hmph!

Today, I laughed at: hmph.
Yes, that is what I meant to type for this post.
Originally, I had a post all written before midnight last night. Then, in trying to add a photo from my phone, the entire entry was deleted. So, I gave up. It was midnight, I was an hour from home, and I needed to be in bed.
And I was not in a good mood.
So, I got home, got in bed with the fiance and he stroked my hair and said, "It's OOOOO-K. Caaaaaalm dooooown. I'll taaaaalk with looooong syllibleeeeh. I can't eeeeeven saaaay 'syllables.'"
OK, that did make me laugh. And that is the point, after all.

Next: Day 16 (Day 15 redux)

Day 14: Retiring a joke

Today, I laughed at: nothing I can really describe.
I don't really know how to explain the laughter I had today (late, late last night/early morning). I got home from work and when the fiance met me at the door of the house we're moving into, he said, "Do we have to paint tonight? I'm sorry, I'm just not in the mood."

The fiance as we were brainstorming
the future location of the bar
in our basement.

I was so relieved because I felt the same way. I had been rushed all day and I really wanted to just sit.
I knew I had the energy if I needed it, but I did not really have the motivation to do a good job.

So, instead, we grabbed a few beers and went downstairs to the basement to look at how the walls were coming along. We're hoping to finish the basement so we'll have it as a big play room, initially for L., but I'm guessing the fiance will have more toys down there.
Anyway, as we planned out things for the future, I began to get that feeling in my stomach like when you're about to go over a rollercoaster hill. I started laughing and I couldn't even describe to the fiance what was so funny. 
It wasn't so much that it was funny, but I was so excited about spending my life with him in this home we're putting together, the only expression my body could release was laughter. And so I laughed. I smiled until my face hurt.