Tag Archives: middleaged

How Many Consecutive Grown-Up Days Can You Do?

It seems we’re bombarded daily with inspirational quotes and mothering advice columns that encourage us to take time for ourselves by having a bubble bath or a massage. A bubble bath is nice on occasion, but I get bored in about 10 minutes, and personally, I find it comfier to read in bed with my seven pillows than in a slick tub. Also, bubbles make a scummy mess. And massages are great, but I need a LOT more than one hour to recharge. In fact, ever since the kids were born, I have felt guilty about how much time I seem to want (need?) for myself. Those encouraging articles always suggest taking time “every now and then.” But I want a chunk of time to myself DAILY. In fact, I want a regularly repeating bunch of consecutive hours to do what I want without guilt, without questions to answer or obligations to fulfill. And I finally realized why I need so much of this: it appears I have very few consecutive grown-up days in me before I feel myself reverting back to a kid again. I can’t help it. It’s just a fact. Continue reading

9 Shades of Crazy, Deal with It

Lizzie is bopping around the kitchen, singing the phrase “own your own crazy,” a good message for me right now since I am currently feeding my rabbit applesauce from a soup spoon and I could feel embarrassed about it if I let myself. It is one of the cutest things I have ever seen, especially since the applesauce dribbled down her little rabbit chin and her little white chest (just like a baby) and now she is busily cleaning her fur with her adorable little rabbit paws. When I tried to show Liz how cute Beatrix was, Lizzie said, “That’s just great,” (without even looking!) and wandered off. So I think Liz has a double standard: she advocates for owning her own crazy but she’s not willing to celebrate my crazy. What kind of a daughter is that? Anyway, I’m thinking that middleage is a great time to start owning our crazy. We’re old enough to stop giving a f*** (mostly) about what other people think.
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Don’t Exercise, and Other Key Findings

I learned three things today, which makes it an awesome day for personal growth. (Yay, me.) I’ll share with you so that it’s a personal growth day for you, too. (Yay, you.) After you read this, and if you find it useful, you can go watch cat videos on YouTube or discuss conspiracy theories with your teenage son (don’t ask), because your day has been productive.
The three learnings are:
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Teenagers Make Me Mental: A Short Play

Have you ever felt like a total imposter? I have, so very many times in my life. I start a new job, feeling totally under-qualified, and pretend I know what I’m doing and hope nobody finds out how inadequate I am. It was even worse when I first became a mother: terrified, I’d make up rules that seemed completely arbitrary, and then second-guess myself about whether it’s the right way to parent. I’m always confused about what I should crack down on and what I should allow, and the line seems to be constantly shifting. And when I think I have a handle on motherhood, the kids get to a new stage and all the rules change again. 
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Occam’s Razor vs. Stephen King

Please note: there is no moral to this story, I offer no insights or inspiration. However, it may serve as a cautionary tale. Most likely, it’s just a bunch of random nonsense. And there’s no thesis statement. Whatever.

When I got to the lake with my paddleboard this afternoon, the temperature was in the low 80’s, the lake was quiet and peaceful under a very slight breeze, and I took off for a quick paddle. But just a minute or two out from the dock, the lake was disrupted by these large waves that came rolling toward me from literally nowhere. They were fat and round and fun, like those thrown off by a pretty big or pretty fast boat, but there were no boats in sight. Not a single one. Huh.
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Two Tips for Becoming a Fall Fashionista

I’m feeling sort of fashion-y today because of the change in seasons and the resulting opportunity to wear different outfits, so I’m going back to the roots of this blog for a bit of non-professional fashion advice.
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Friend’s Comment Was So Priceless I Wrote a Blog Just for the Punchline…

Stephen King once wrote this great short story called “Word Processor of the Gods” about this writer who discovered that, when he typed a sentence about the picture that hung over his desk, and then deleted the sentence, the picture disappeared. The character thought long and hard — actually, no, he thought for about two minutes — and went on to delete his wife and kid, then gave himself the wife he should have had and the kid he should have had and the life he should have had, and you get the point. Anyway, how often in life have you wished with all your heart that you had a delete button for the things you’ve said and done?
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