This Is 36.

This is 36.

We love our families, and we need our downtime.
We nurse our babies but still occasionally nurse hangovers.
We can have a dance party at 3am on a Friday, and we can run a 5k at 9am on a Sunday.
We work hard to bring home the nitrate-free bacon.
We cook it too.
We love deeply and passionately and fiercely.
We are selfish & judgemental & bossy. But we're working on it.
Our faces are beginning to show the many belly laughs we've shared. Our hair is changing color on its own.
We still sometimes call our mother's house "home".
Sometimes we still get carded. And we like it.
We're confident in our short skirts and long jackets.  We do not teeter in 4' heels.  
We cannot be defined by one word, "wife", "mother", "professional"; we are all of these things.
We understand the importance of our girlfriends. But we still take them for granted.
We will travel across the country for the weddings, babies, housewarmings, and birthdays of those we love most.
We give - and get - tough love.
We do what we have to do in order to do what we want to do.
Self-doubt and inner fear have been tempered by time and success.  Mistakes too.
We claim that a cup of tea works wonders for relaxation.  But we know that a glass of Pinot is better.
We dream big.  We hurt big.  We love big. 

This is 36.

The Rules

When I was a little girl, 3 years old, maybe 4, I wanted to run away from home.  I told my Mom, "I am running away from home."  She said, "Okay, but remember, you are not allowed to cross the street."  And so, I packed up my little backpack with all of my worldly possessions and headed off away from home.  "Bye, Emily," my Mom called after me.  "Remember not to cross the street!"

After what felt like hours to me, but in reality was probably more like 3-5 minutes later, my Mom came looking for me.  I was sitting on the corner of our street, pouting, having run as far away from home as I could go without disobeying my mother.

********

The other day I looked up, and Will was playing with something that he shouldn't have been.  "Will," I said.  "Are you supposed to be playing with that?"  He looked at me, shook his head no, and handed it over to me.  He then proceeded to lay on the floor and lose his mind until he was distracted by some cheesy popcorn.

I told Tim this story later and remarked on Will's personality.  He is totally a rule-follower.  He doesn't like it, but he'll do it.  Oh, but you'll know that he doesn't like it all right.  He's very vocal about his displeasure.

"That's totally how I used to be," I laughed to Tim, thinking about the running away story.

"Used to be?!" scoffs Tim.  "That's exactly how you are now!"

That's my boy.

A New Balance

The other day I had a reiki session from my friend, Tony.  For those of you who are reading this and saying, "What the hell is reiki, lady?", I will attempt to describe it.  And for those of you who are reading and saying, "Ah, yes, reiki, that will be good for you, lady", please forgive me if I butcher the description.

Reiki is a spiritual kind of practice that involves moving and transferring energy.   Basically, the person who is performing the session stands over the subject and lightly touches or places their hands on the person receiving the treatment.  The reiki master then kind of moves the energy about, helping the subject to regain a sense of balance.  (I think their aura is being cleansed too, but that's not really part of the description.)  Yes, I know this is somewhat vague.  Ask Tony or Wendy if you'd like to know the full explanation.  They're the masters.

Anyway, so I had the session with Tony last week.  Although I am not sure I really understand and/or believe the ideas behind reiki,  I am all about anything that will allow me to lie on a bed for an hour without really moving or needing to do anything.  No doubt.  Anyway, things were going well.  I was feeling relaxed and peaceful. And then all of sudden, while I was lying on my stomach, something happened.

I felt like I was being suffocated. I felt like Tony was pressing his hands in my upper back as hard as he could.  (He wasn't.)  I started seeing some kind of crazy, and scary, I might add, visions.  It was not fun or pleasant or relaxing.  I was actually scared.

And then, it was over.

Now, Gentle Reader, as I said, I am not one that normally buys into the supernatural, or "woo-woo" stuff as Wendy call it.  However, strange things were *definitely* afoot that night.

But what's even weirder is that in the days to follow, I have felt different.  Good, different.  I have had more energy.  I've been relaxed and not so crazy-stressed as I've been.  More centered & grounded too.

Anyone else have an experience with reiki to share?  I'd love hear what others have (or haven't) gotten out of it.

As for me, I am a (still-slightly-skeptical) believer.

Perfection Perception

I received a mix tape (no, not really a tape, hello!) from my friend, Lisa, before Boo was born.  It's filled with  lovely Boo-type music like "Beautiful Boy", "Blackbird", and "Baby Mine".  It's pretty awesome and definitely tear-jerking for a Mama-To-Be.

One song was a bit more rock if you will:  "F*ckin' Perfect" by Pink.  Usually, I try not to refer to my child and the f-bomb in the same sentence.  Usually.  Sometimes I slip and drop a "Wow!  That was f*ckin' awesome, dude!" I know.  I'm trying to curb it.

Anyway, before Boo was born and actually, for quite awhile after that, I always listened to this song as a little tribute to the awesomeness of my kid.  You know, don't worry, Boo, no matter what, you'll always be perfect to me.  Sometimes it could even trigger a tear or two thinking about the time that's bound to come when he's not feeling good about himself.

And then while driving to work one day while beating myself particularly hard about being a working mother, it hit me. This song isn't dedicated to the babies out there.  Nope, this one is for the Moms.  Working Moms,  Stay-At-Home Moms, Moms-To-Be, all of us who are busting our asses, doing our best, trying to make all of the pieces fit together without losing it on a daily basis.  We can and should look at each other and remind ourselves we are f*ckin' perfect - even when we really don't feel that way at all.

So hey there Mommies - way to go!  You're doing an amazing job!  You're fantastic & wonderful & honest-to-goodness incredible.  How in the world do you do what you do every single day?

You do it because you are fucking perfect.  

It's Five O'Clock Somewhere

I go to parties, sometimes until 830 4, it's hard to leave when you can't find the door.

Parents/Partiers - it's a struggle, isn't it?  A struggle to maintain some kind of realistic balance between our parental duties and our partying ways.  And when you add in cleaning and laundry and working outside of the home, well, it's damn near impossible. 

But I am here to tell you - we CAN do this.  (Picture me saying this in my best Bill-Clinton-on-the- campaign trail voice.  It's more impactful this way.)

We CAN find a way to both bring up our children AND bring the funk.  A few things to consider -

1. Our days of partying until 2a or 3a or 4a?  They're over.  Get used to it. 
2. Happy hour is your friend!  Many happy hours begin at 3p or 4p, making it totally acceptable to have a few cocktails and snacks in the middle of the afternoon.
3.  As you need to be in bed by roughly 9p in order to be functional the next day, flip cup tournaments events that begin as early as noon on the weekends are not only suggested, they are recommended. 
4.  A designated parent must be identified before any imbibing begins.  Yes, clearly, it's important that this person drives everyone home safely, but, more than that, this person ensures that Mommy Baby is fed, watered, and put to bed safely.
5.  Babysitters!  If you have a baby-raising partner, then you deserve to enjoy a night out alone together.  If not, you deserve a night out with grown-ups.  Seriously, it's not only okay to get a babysitter once in awhile, it's important.  If paying someone to watch your kid for a few hours isn't an option, guilt trip a friend or a family member, or make a deal to trade off les petits monstres with another family. 
6.  But you still can't party until 2a or 3a or 4a.  Well, you can, but you'll be sad. 

Special thanks to Mera for teaching me that sometimes the 3pm martini is a necessity to everyone's well-being.  Additional special thanks to Abra for her superpowers and superunderstanding of the above struggle. 

Like Father, Like Son

It's been about 5 months since I last posted.  Yeah, she says, calculating the math of being a full-time parent, a full-time professional, and a full-time party girl in her head, that's about right.

Man, it's been a crappy week in so many ways.  Without going into the sordid & boring details, let me just assure you that the sads are happening big time here in Greenwood.  Blech & boo all over the place.

Day 3 of this crappy week is coming to a close, and I have to pick Boo up from daycare.  When I arrive, our nanny informs me that he is cranky & crab-tastic.  Awesome.  Just the joyous news I was hoping to hear.  I scoop him up and run for the door, hoping we can make it home before the true Boo-Beast emerges from his evening cave. 

He seems okay though.  He's bopping around and rockin' & rollin'.  He enjoys a delicious and nutritious dinner.  He plays some games.  He's laughing.  Then I get a text and my crabbiness returns.  I have to take a little while to sort out some stuff via text and then over the phone.  I feel stressed and anxious and generally, as I said, crabby. 

And Boo is wonderful.

He sits at my feet smiling up at me and laughing.  When I stand up while talking on the phone, he hugs my legs.  He is constantly touching me and beaming at me.  I swear to God, he knew I was stressed out and trying to make me feel better. 

This little being came from my body, he is my heart - could it be that he instictively knows that his Mama is blue and needs him to be calm & comforting?  Could he sense that I needed his mellow joy during my time of overwrought chaos?  Could he really *get* me like that already?

Yeah, that kid is his father's son all right.  Damn.  How did I get so lucky?