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.

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!

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."

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 11: This, too, shall pass and become funny

Today, I laughed at: an imitation my coworker did of me.
At work, we've been waiting for the new restaurant down the block to open up, since we've gotten tired of the same take out all the time. When we tried the food, unfortunately, none of the orders were right. I would have quietly eaten my veggie wrap, which was completely different from what the menu promised, but once other coworkers started hovering around, wondering what the new food was like, I snapped. The combination of others' curiosity and watching me eat, along with a cold side salad in a wrap instead of a grilled mushroom, pepper and cheese veggie wrap I was promised was too much and I flipped out, grabbed a coworker and brought my food back.
Later that night, we were recounting the story and another coworker did an impression of my face and said in a high voice, "This veggie wrap is just wrong! Please, oh pretty please, fix it!"

Day 9: Diagramming a joke, Part 1

Today, I laughed at: the boyfriend imitating a horse while he played with L.
At Target (where I'll go for three things and come out with three bags, somehow), L. was fascinated with a dinosaur from the dollar section. Hey, as long as it was only a dollar and it wasn't princess/Disney related, I was fine buying it for her. When she brought it home, she introduced him to her toy horse and the Yo Gabba Gabba gang figures she has.
When the boyfriend woke up, she handed him the horse and began having a babble-speak conversation with the dinosaur. The boyfriend joined with the horse and "neighed" his portion of the conversation. "He-e-e-ey, ho-o-o-ow a-a-a-a-a-are yo-o-o-o-o-ou?"

 L. got a kick out of it and so did I. Have I mentioned how much I love the boyfriend? Well, it's a lo-o-o-o-ot.

Day 1: Lessons in laughter from my dad

Today, I laughed at: My Drunk Kitchen: An American Tale

I am so out of practice at laughing, I kept looking for things to make me laugh today with no success. I got to look at the house we're moving into today and that was exciting, but there was nothing really funny about it, unfortunately. While at work, I was freaking out a little, feeling like I was a failure the first day of my 31 Days of Laughter Challenge. So I went to my rarely used YouTube app and the newest episode of My Drunk Kitchen was suggested for me. Thank goodness for Hanna Hart. Even though I hadn't watched the webisodes in a long time, the random clips eventually forced a belly-chuckle out of me.

Surviving a cold with a toddler

It was inevitable. I was getting sleepy at work, the tickle in my throat was getting more annoying and what I thought were allergies were getting stronger. None of this clicked until the head congestion set in halfway through my last day of work for the week and I realized I was getting sick.

Ugh, one of the worst annoyances to a mom. The common cold. On top of being annoying to deal with, deal with a cold has to be one of the biggest triggers of Mom Guilt. And I have to keep reminding myself to take time for me. But, tell that to any mom and she'll nod graciously, but secretly think, "Yeah, OK, like that every happens."

So, I prepared. I got my liquids, my Tylenol Cold and Sinus and my tissues set up in the living room and L. got to watch as much TV as she wanted while I sat like a zombie, pretty much doing the bare minimum of making sure she didn't hurt herself or get into trouble. 

When an idol falls

My daughter is 2 1/2. She turned exactly 30 months this past week. I normally don't count months anymore. But I liked the idea that for one month, she would be the same age in months as I was in years.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to plan anything crazy, like my #30for30 Challenge. But, I must have been channeling it when I took this picture.

Quite similar to the photo taken the morning of my birthday before setting off to do 30 good deeds.

Best birthday ever, I think.

One of the reasons I enjoyed doing those 30 good deeds was, despite how young she was, I wanted L. to learn what it is to be a good person and, hopefully, find something admirable about what I was doing and maybe achieve something like it one day.

I'm not saying I want to be her idol. But how does a parent have influence on what kind of idols are admired in the house?

It's the little things

I only have my daughter for half the week. Even though I'm not an avid fan, the boyfriend periodically will remind me how comedian Louis C. K. finds himself a better parent because of only having his kids half the week. I guess that's true. I get to give 100 percent in that concentrated amount of time, rather than stretching my energy over the course seven days.

For a long time when the separation was new, I would hold myself to the expectation of having something fun planned for every time I had L. That got to be too much energy and waaaay too much money. I've also realized that L. gets as much excitement from pulling up to our neighborhood park as she does when we drive halfway up the state for free admission at Kidcity Children's Museum every third Thursday of the month. It recently resonated with me that it's the little things when I see her that add up to big memories.

Here we are at the park and L. is being chased by little Freddy Krueger.
Five minutes later, little Freddy would not share any of the sand toys.
Little Freddy Krueger is a jerk.

Getting to know ... me

This being my 18th post, I guess I should do an introduction of sorts. Also, being a fan of Simple Mom and, especially, the Simple Mom Podcast, I feel it would only be appropriate to answer Tsh's questions she asks her guests at the end of every podcast.

(Please let me know when I'm turning into a scary Simple Mom groupie. I fear I'm almost at that level.)

"Tsh, Simple Mom, I love you.
I loooooooove yooooou!"

So, before I turn into this stalker praying mantis, let's get started.

What it's like at the end of the tunnel

So many people told me there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The thing was,  I was so used to being in the tunnel, I was used to it. It wasn't until a few days ago when I found myself "accidentally" dieting and being conscious of getting more movement into my daily routine did I realize I was finally in that light at the end of the tunnel.

The boyfriend and I recently celebrated being together for a year. The exact date is really unknown since I began staying with him only a few days after L.'s father and I agreed a divorce would be best. It started out as a gesture of friendship. I was uncomfortable at "home" and he and I worked the same shift and we were fond of each other's company. I had my grieving period, and it was a rather weird transition into a relationship from there.

I kept a lot of emotions to myself. I was able to rationalize myself down off temporary emotional cliffs. But every so often, something would set me off. And that's when the boyfriend would hold me. He wouldn't tell me everything would be alright; instead, he told me "things aren't always going to seem as bad." It was exactly what I wanted to hear. I was exactly what I NEEDED to hear.

Attempting to be hipsters with our glasses, PBRs and Instagram.
All of which we, actually, somewhat enjoy. But not ironically.