A Year in Review 2016

I don't blog much anymore, it's true. And while I am not sorry to say good-bye to 2016, it didn't seem right to skip my annual Year in Review post. You know, because Facebook just doesn't seem to tell the whole story. So here it is. No filters, no apologies, this is my (totally self-centered) look back on 2016. My so-called Birthday Fun Year was not the best.

1. Successfully made it to Will's 5th birthday which we celebrated in the backyard nary a bounce house in sight.
2. Wept and mourned the loss of Tim's father, my father-in-law, while becoming acutely aware of my own parents' mortality, something I hadn't allowed myself to consider before. 
3. Began my first non-consultant, full time role at Microsoft & thought it wouldn't be that different than before. Was wrong. 
4. Worked hard, learned constantly, grew professionally, made mistakes, made change, made strides, made more mistakes, and finally felt like I have made it. 
5. Ran another half marathon, better time, better run, but overall didn't feel the joy that running brought me in 2015.  
6. Struggled with the loss of the election, the loss of family, the loss of faith, the loss of hope, the loss of the will to fight. 
7. Watched the sun come up on many quiet mornings sparking the memory of my faith, my hope, and my will to fight for equality, justice, and love.  
8. Celebrated my 40th birthday with Girls Weekends to Austin and Herron Island plus a Vegas weekend with Tim, and a family weekend to the Washington coast. 
9. Celebrated my 40th birthday with a (preeeetty hazy) Greenwood pub crawl. 
10. Realized that a birthday fun WEEK is a much more manageable celebration for someone in their '40s. 
11. Deeply embraced my feminism and began a path of learning about inclusion, unconscious bias, microaggressions, and equality. 
12. Started making plans for our home remodel and truly became a fully formed adult. 
13. Bought my dream car.
14. Fell on some black days.
15. Willed my kid strength and courage as he struggled - and continues to struggle -  through his first few months of Kindergarten. 
16. Swelled with pride as my kid demonstrated empathy and emotional intelligence by offering
    
    money to the less fortunate, choosing to help the homeless, and understanding that classroom bullies are sad. 
17. Seethed with frustration and irritation at that same kid taking his own good fortune for granted, suggesting he "could just buy a new winter coat" after losing his at school, or asking for food he doesn't eat. 
18. Reveled in the conversations I had with my kid, the things he shared with me, and the path our relationship is taking as he changed from preschooler to gradeschooler. 
19. Marked the year of the extended Family Vacation visiting my family in Florida in February, Tim's family in Folly Beach in July, and then back to Florida for a Disney trip with my family in November.& decided that was too many extended Family Vacations for one year. 
20. Felt the hole in my long-dusty gypsy soul rip a little wider as yet another year passed without any international travel. 
21. Struggled with balance as usual, but this year it was balance between career and parenthood and battling feelings that I'm really not doing either one very well. 
22. Wept and mourned the loss of two of the composers of the soundtrack of my life, Prince & Bowie, not because I knew them, but because "they helped me know myself". 
23. Deeply appreciated and celebrated the women in my life & the way they inspire me, challenge me, and make me a better person each & every day. (You know who you are.)
24. Often felt busy and overwhelmed leading me to seek more quiet and solitude and space than usual. 
25. Even on my darkest days, remembered that I am the luckiest person in the world & was grateful for all that I have, all that I am, and all that's to come.

Non, je ne regrette rien. Except for running out of room before I could include "Drank a lot of great wine" on this list. xx

An open letter to my son on his first day of Kindergarten

September 12, 2016

Dear Will,

Today is your first day of Kindergarten. You are smiling and amped up, but I know you. I know that's anxious energy pulsing through you this morning.

I ask if you are excited, and you say yes, but I hear the catch in your voice. I know there is a big part of you that wishes you were spending another year where it's comfortable, where you know what to expect, where you're the Big Man on Campus.

I understand this, Boo. Change is hard. It will continue to be hard, even when you're 6. Even when you're 16. Even when you're 36. And, I imagine, even when you're 66.

When you are older, I will tell you how I lied awake, tossing and turning, the night before starting school or a new job. I will tell you how I ate lunch in my car the entire first week of a new gig because I didn't know where else to go. How I skipped parties and happy hours and events because I didn't know anyone else. I will tell you how I cried on the way home from work, in my office, during a conference call, in a meeting. How I quit a job after two weeks and went back to the place where I felt comfortable. How I resisted change time & time again, even when I knew it was inevitable. I will tell you those things later.

But today, I will tell you that I understand.

I know you need to observe a situation before making a move. I understand.
I know you like to be alone and sometimes need space. I understand.
I know you don't take friendship lightly, and it can take you time to make friends. I understand.
I know that you don't always want to talk about things with me because that makes them feel too real. I understand.
I know you are a brave, independent, wacky, bold, sensitive spirit who needs to do things in his own time, in his own way. I understand.

When you are older, I will tell you how I traveled and adventured and jumped off high things and took risks and faced my insecurities and learned lessons and saw the world and made a difference and made mistakes and swallowed my fears and swallowed my pride and took chances and took giant leaps of faith and fell down and got up again and loved deeply and hurt deeply and changed and changed and changed again. One day, I will tell you those things. And you'll understand.

But for today, I will tell you this. You are brave, you are bold, you are loved.

Go get 'em, kid.

Love,
Mommy

"Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid." 

How old do you have to be to....?

My kid turned five earlier this month. He is utterly and thoroughly delighted at becoming another year older.

He is constantly asking, "How old do you have to be to [insert something awesome here]?"

Or he'll say, "Can 5 year-olds [insert something rad here]?"

He is completely bought into the idea that each year older means more opportunity, more fun, and generally, more awesomeness.

If only this was the case for all of us.

I am approaching a milestone birthday this year as well, and while I love Birthday Fun Week and all of the fanfare that goes along with a big birthday, I've still been feeling kind of blah about it. But then, suddenly, last weekend, a few things occurred to me.

• Would I really want to be, say, 30 years old again? Nope.
• Are there amazing things I can do now that I couldn't do at 22...or 28...or even 35? Absolutely. 
• Could it really be true that, even at my age, each year older might mean more awesomeness? Hmm. I think I'm on to something here. 

And so, here is a list of some (not all) of the awesome things you can do because you are (almost) 40.

1. You know a little something about wine, you don't choose (usually) based on pretty labels, and you can afford the bottles you want to drink.
2. You embrace change and know that, even when it's scary, charting new courses is a part of finding success. 
3. You know and value your true friends, and you make time for each other. 
4. But you also know that you do not have to be friends with anyone who isn't bringing positivity to your life. 
5. You can eat bacon any time you want.
6. You know that life is short, and taking risks is necessary to take full advantage of the time we have here. 
7. But you also know that life is long, and it's best to surround yourself with the people that make you the happiest. 
8. You are brave. And not the silly, blind braveness of your '20s. The strong, confident, I can-kick-the-shit-out-of-life kind of brave that changes lives. 
9. You can buy the shoes or the handbag or the diamond earrings for no special reason at all. 
10. You decide what looks good on you, rock whatever you want, and show off whatever body part you choose simply because it makes you feel good.
11. You can say no.
12. You make pain-free sacrifices for your family because what makes them happy makes you happy.
13. You can be wrong, say you're sorry, admit your faults. And then you learn from it and move on. 
14. You take long weekends with your partner or your girlfriends and go big in a way you never would have dreamed when you were in your '20s. 
15. You make good choices, you make bad choices, you make miracles, you make missteps, you make great things happen, you make massive mistakes, but always, you own it all. 

One thing to note: Can 40 year-olds drink like they did in their '20s without any repercussions? Unfortunately, this is is a no. 

However, can 40 year-olds look ahead to another decade that just keeps getting more awesome? Absolutely yes.

I'll take that trade-off. 

Won't Be Punished

As I'm sure you all know, on Tuesday, Donald Trump said, in no uncertain terms, that women who have abortions should be subjected to "some form of punishment". He has since retracted the comment, backpedaling as he's known to do, but what's said is said.

And this is what I have to say.

I have already been punished over and over again for a choice that I made when I was a 19 year college student, unable to care for neither myself nor a cactus at that point.

I am punished every single time the legality of abortion comes into question, every time old white men discuss whether my decisions relating to my own body are valid.

I was punished when 3 different clinics stipulated that I had to go through "counseling" to ensure that I was "making the right decision" even though there was no doubt in my mind that I was doing what was right for me.

I am punished when I drive past Planned Parenthood on a beautiful Saturday afternoon & see protesters shaming women just like me.

I was punished when those same protesters, 20 years ago, yelled and screamed obscenities at me as I made my choice, even as I cried.

I am punished by others who think that I am not worthy of respect, that I am a criminal, that I am somehow a lesser human being than they are.

I am punished by my own silence these past three days, wanting to speak up, but afraid to share my story.

Twenty years ago, I made a choice that was legal. I made a choice that allowed me to pursue the life I have today. I made a choice that was right for me. I made a choice that I do not regret.

This is where it ends. I refuse to be ashamed any longer. I won't be punished anymore. By anyone.

My Year in Review - 2015

Because Facebook just doesn't seem to tell the whole story, it's time for my annual no-filters, totally self-centered reflection on the year past. In no particular order, here's a look back at the somewhat bittersweet year of a full time social media manager, a full time mommy, and a full time part time party girl.

1. Successfully made it to Boo's 4th birthday, Tim's 45th birthday, and my 39th birthday, all of which were celebrated with over the top Birthday Fun Weeks.
2. Completed - with zero cheats - the Whole 30 in January, a 30 day detox that cut out sugar, dairy, grains, alcohol & legumes. I felt amazing .
3. Consumed all of the sugar, dairy, grains, alcohol and legumes in the greater Seattle area in December. I felt feel un-amazing.
4. Participated in and blogged about the Complaint Project & realized how much of an impact our words & outlook really have on ourselves...and each other.
5. Struggled with a pretty serious case of summertime ennui resulting in bad choices & self-destructive behavior which, let's be honest, trickled into the fall too.
6. Made the long, adults-only, weekend cool again and travelled to New Orleans, Vegas, Vancouver, and Sonoma & loved every second of my kid-free holidays.
7. Took our first family vacation in 2 years to Kauai and relished every second of a peaceful, relaxing and totally family-friendly holiday.
8. Felt enormously grateful to have the flexibility & the means to prioritize travel.
9. Got with the program and stopped double-spacing after periods. (I'm a writer, people, this something worthwhile to note.)
10. Swelled with pride, emotion and hysterical laughter as I watched my kid grow & become his own hilarious, intelligent, quirky, independent little weirdo.
11. Seethed with irritation, impatience and frustration at my stubborn, bratty, ungrateful little monster.
12. Ran. And ran. And ran. And then I ran my first half marathon, beating my goal by 17 minutes
    
    and my stretch goal by 2 minutes. And finally felt like I could call myself an athlete.
13. Haven't run more than 5 miles at at time since then.
14. Was consistently consumed by thoughts of work. First, unhappiness and unfullfillment. Then, struggles with Imposter Syndrome and self-doubt. Slowly, not only acceptance of myself and my role, but a total embrace of where I am in my career. And finally, pride in my accomplishments & total excitement of what's to come.
15. Did not appreicate my husband enough for the amazing man that he is & everything he does for me and our family.
16. Drank a lot of wine with my girls. Felt both hungover and yet rejuvenated. 
17. Continued my neverending struggle with balance, still teetertottering from one extreme to the other. 
18. Cried and cried and cried and felt something inside me change when my Aunt Gina, my godmother, died of Lewy Body disease in September. Cried while delivering my reading at the funeral. Cried for a lot of October. And November. And December too. 
19. Became totally irritated and frustrated by anything that seems or feels inauthentic, often having trouble hiding my annoyance.
20. Talked about penises, poop and tooting more than I ever could have thought possible.
21. Laughed so much. Hopefully as much as I cried.
22. Felt inspired and empowered during the Grace Hopper Women in Computer Conference in Houston. Realized that I am, in fact, a woman in technology, and that is pretty badass.
23. Marked the 10 year anniversary of Tim's and my relationship & celebrated the fact that, overall, despite the tough times and our challenges, we are still in love. 
24. Took risks, allowed myself to be uncomfortable, stayed up too late, said yes, did things that scared me, spoke my mind, looked like an idiot, and embraced the absurdity of life. 
25. Discovered that even with my ennui, my struggles and my sadness, overall, the life I lead is pretty incredble.  

All I can say is....what's next? 

Myself Unbound

Summertime makes me wild. 

The days are so long, there's so much more time available to me now. The heat is oppressive, it pushes me out of the confines of my home & into a place that's untamed & lush. With sweat shining on my bare shoulders and legs, I'm greedy for experience, thirsting for a drop or two of adventure. I join my pack, running wild with bare feet and acting like I was never domesticated in the first place. 

I want to feel everything, do everything, make every mistake, say every ridiculous thing that comes to mind, drink every drop, set every fire, be everything, run every mile, bask in every ray of sunshine, say yes every time, choose experience over sleep every night, feel everything, do everything. 

For three months, I want to experience myself unbound. Self-restraint seems impossible; I am feral. Be careful, don't get too close, don't make any sudden moves; I bite. 

And then suddenly, the heat will be replaced by a comforting chill in the air. The days will shorten. The sunshine will cease its unrelenting pursuit. I am still running, but I am slowing down. I am still wild. but soon I will be caught. Closer & closer, I can feel it coming up behind me, order is returning. Summertime will come to an end. My thirst will be curbed, and I will be satisifed with routine and the quiet comfort of domesticity. Bare skin will be covered and replaced by thick and cozy armor. Soon, very soon, my lupine soul will be lulled back into hiberation. Soon. 

Autumn's closing in.  

Are You Ready For Your Close Up?

Yes, Gentle Reader, it's been awhile since we've connected. Summertime rosé drinking while chasing naked preschoolers in my backyard just seems to be consuming more time than planned. However, it's Friday, and it's been a long week, and it's high time that we discuss the burning question that seems to be on everyone's mind.

How do I take an actually sexy, sultry, possibly saucy, selfie?

If you are like my group of friends (and as my only readers actually are my group of friends, you're in luck), the topic of sexting is something that comes up quite often. We want to know who's doing it. (All of us.) What are the best tips & tricks? (Be patient already, that's what this post is for.) What reaction are they getting? (Ranges from "Oh hell yeah" to "I'll be home in 15 minutes. Get ready.") Trust us - if you haven't already jumped on the sexy selfie train, it's time to get on board.

Choo choo!

Tip 1: Take a look around
Toys and laundry are not sexy. Open pizza box and crumpled napkins? Not sexy. Pretty sheets, a wine glass? Yes, those work.

Tip 2: Speaking of wine glasses...
Go ahead and fill that one up. Yes, I know that drinking wine is my answer to pretty much every question. But that's because it always works! Especially when you need to relax & put yourself in a comfortable, laissez-faire frame of mind. Enjoy the process - which also includes anything else that makes you feel sexy. Red lipstick, lingerie, your man's shirt, a song, a fantasy, you get it.

Tip 3: Lighting is important
Mood lighting during the sexy selfie session is a little different. Try and shoot in the daytime/early evening. Natural light works best. Steer clear of harsh yellow or floursecent overhead lighting. Not even a filter can save you there.

Tip 4: And speaking of filters....
Oh, you're absolutely gonna want to filter that shit...sexy selfies are pretty much the reason why filters were invented. Make yourself a little tanner, a little glossier, a little fuzzier. You're still you, only more so.

Tip 5: Use your assets
Got sexy bee-stung lips? Rock that red lipstick, open your mouth and sigh. Amazing cleavage? Shoot high & capture your lacy bra and a glimpse of a thong. Great ass? Mirrors are your friend for capturing that booty. Arch your back a bit & let it pop. You could also show off that cleavage at the same time if you're so inclined.  Legs for days? Pull on those thigh highs, lay on your back & kick your legs up to show them off. A great option for a day that you feel sexy, but you don't feel like primping? On your back, shoot down to capture your pretties or sheerest undies. And when all else fails, shoot from above. Very helpful in slimming certain areas and highlighting others. It's a process though, take your time, enjoy your wine, you'll find your best angles.  

Tip 6: Less is more
Show your face or show your body. Do not show both. Sadly, you just never know, and having some plausible deniability is in your best interest.

Tip 7: I woke up like this
Another fun, not as risque, but still certainly very sexy option is the "I just woke up, I'm laying in bed & I'm thinking of you" shot. You don't need to show off your goodies if you don't want to - a tank top and shortie shorts go along way here. Plus you've got the early morning lighting on your side. Another option is to go topless, but go for the headshot so he/she can see your cute bedhead hair, maybe a smudge of last night's red lipstick and your bare shoulders. "Wish you were here."

Tip 8: Don't be so hard on yourself!
You are gorgeous. Whomever is on the receiving end of that sext is going be beyond thrilled to see what you've got for them. Own your curves, rock your sexiness, you are a freaking goddess.

And one final tip for the guys out there....for the love of all things sexy, do not send us a dick pic. Never. No, not ever. Like ever.

Did I miss anything? I'm always ready to up my sexy selfie game! 

The Complaint Project - Weeks 2 & 3

I decided to combine Week 2 and Week 3 of the Complaint Project into one post because, honestly, not that much really changed at first. I felt like I needed more quantifiable data (wow, I really do work for Microsoft now) before I could make any observations insightful enough to warrant a post. Three weeks have now passed since the beginning of this project, and while I still cannot guarantee any shrewd nuggets of wisdom, I'll give it a go.

I have learned that I complain about things relating to transportation a lot. Like A LOT a lot. Traffic, parking, other drivers, construction, the number 5 to downtown, the Uber app, Uber drivers, the 520 bridge, how badly the rain affects the driving of Seattleites, and parking yet again. The Complaint Project has really made me zero in on exactly *how much* energy I am using griping about transportation. And the thing is - these are not things I can control. I can complain and whine and bitch, but that is accomplishing exactly nothing. So instead, I'm just trying to enjoy the downtime I have in the car to listen to music & think. I started bringing my book on the bus which makes the time fly. And if I take the bus, I don't have to worry (or complain about) parking. As far as Uber goes, well, they still frustrate me. But I am thankful I have them as an option for a safe ride home.

I have learned to believe in the power of positive thinking. No, really. It's been actually quite incredible how quickly the Complaint Project turned my sometimes-rotten attitude at work (my previous manager calls it "Grumpy Emily") into something else entirely. Dare I say it? Have I become an optimist? By refusing to give in to the Grumpy Emily (I picture her wearing a threadbare Santa hat, Grinch-style) sitting on my shoulder, it's been a lot easier to put a brightside spin on things. No, not everything at work is always going to go the way I'd like it to go. Sometimes I am going to be met with roadblocks and unforseen challenges. Sometimes I am going to be intimidated. Sometimes I am going to feel frustrated. Sometimes it's going to be hard to assume positive intent. But instead of complaining both internally & to everyone who will listen to me about things which, again, I cannot control, I have taken my own advice (shocking!) and put a positive on those things. I may be challenged by a particular coworker or struggle at work, but I am really amazed by how much I learn every day. We don't necessarily have the same communication styles, but I know that we both have the good of the project and the company at heart. I have become, oddly, sunny. I think folks are getting worried....or possibly wondering if I have a secret.

And finally, I have learned that dropping the complaints about things that I *can* control was actually not so tough after all. You know, the "I'm tired"s, the "I'm stressed"s, the "I'm so busy"s. After acknowledging how often these complaints came out of my mouth and then seeing how often they come out of other's mouths, I realized how much they are eating into the simple joys of each day. So I stopped. Because seriously, we're all busy, tried, and stressed. Instead of sighing and replying, "I'm so busy" when someone asks you how you are, try smiling & saying, "I'm amazing!". I swear, your whole morning will improve. Because seriously, complaining about stress is, like, so 2005.

As you can see, the first 3 weeks of the Complaint Project have put me on track to becoming that person that adds "#grateful" to all of their Instagram posts. I'm all Zen and shit. Who knew I had it in me?

Stay tuned for one final week of the Complaint Project because I've got one last hurdle to jump, one last hill to traverse. I will attempt to cross through the perilous & looming territory of the Throes of Hell Threes complaint-free and without waking the Beast named Boo. Miles to go before I sleep....

In This Room

I will sit in the same room as you.

Sometimes, there just aren't any words. Sometimes, it isn't about having answers or solutions. Sometimes, conversations are unnecessary. Sometimes, being there for each other is just that, being there. Sometimes, we do not have to talk. But we can sit in the same room.

In that room, we can find strength. We are not alone in our sorrow or our grief or our hurt. We have each other to help bear the weight. We do not need to say it because we already know. In that room, we are free to experience emotion. We do not apologize for our tears. We do not apologize for our anger. In that room, we are whoever we need to be, and we do whatever we need to do. In that room, there are no guidelines, no rights and wrongs, no censorship of our emotions. In that room, there is only us and complete acceptance.

There is no time limit on how long we can sit in this room. We can talk or not talk. Yell or not yell. Cry or not cry. We can welcome distractions or face it head-on or pretend like everything is the same as before outside of this room. We do not have to leave until you are ready. I will not leave until you are ready.

You didn't leave until I was ready.

When there was nothing anyone could say to me to make it better, you sat in the same room as me. We were alternately silent and loud. We were sad and angry and peaceful and optimistic all at once. You held my hand as I felt all of these things. You were there with me in the same room, and you did not leave. When we finally departed, I still wasn't better. I was not healed, but I knew I was not alone.

I would do anything to make it better for you. I know I can't. But I can sit in the same room as you.

The Complaint Project - Week 1

And we're off!

I spent much of this first week of the Complaint Project trying to tune in & recognize when I was complaining & what I was complaining about. What did I discover? I complain A LOT. But much of that complaining was actually done in my head. I internalize a lot of it and only express my irritation through such passive aggressive moves as eye-rolling and exasperated inflections of my voice.

What else did I discover? Toddlers incite A LOT of frustration. Not complaining while coexisting with a 3-year old is damn near impossible. This is gonna be a lot more work than I originally thought.

And so, like in every other area of my obsessive Type A life, I made a list. Here are some of the things that I whined about during Week 1.

1. So much boring organizational work 
2. People on calls that talk and talk and talk and talk and talk
3. The grocery store automatic cashier
4. People that refuse to stop saying "Adorbs" and "Totes" (via Twitter)
5. My stupid cat throwing up all of the time
6. My stupid cat meowing all of the time
7. I'm tired, I couldn't sleep, I am anxious, I am stressed, I am worried
8. Boo whining (ironic, I know)
9. Tim being late to pick me up
10. Tim being early to pick me up
11. Boo refusing to get dressed. Boo refusing to wear clothes that are not 4T. Boo refusing to put his undies on. Boo refusing to answer me. Boo refusing to go to bed. 
12. Anti-vaccination posts on Facebook
13. I feel sick from eating an entire bag of Starburst jellybeans
14. My Uber driver not going the way I suggested
15. I'm hurt. I'm sick. I'm can't get rid of this bronchitis cough
16. Twitter spoiled the Walking Dead finale

And the list goes on....and on....and on...

Aside from assessing all of my complaints this week, I also tried to remember to look for the bright side of things. For example:

1. I have so much boring organizational work to do....but I am very lucky to have such a great job.
2. The grocery store automatic cashier is so irritating....but it was a small price to pay to have wine to drink tonight.
3. Tim is late picking me up....but overall, he's a pretty damn good husband. 
4. Boo is incredibly frustrating and annoying....but it's so amazing when he hugs me & tells me he loves me unprompted. 
5. My Uber driver did not go the way I suggested....but at least I will not get a DUI tonight.

Has anything changed so far? Not really. But I do feel more self-aware when it comes to how my complaining affects my mood. I have also taken note of how many Starburst jellybeans are too many Starburst jellybeans. And finally, I've noticed how often and easily strangers or acquaintances on social media can put a black rain cloud over my day. The little things add up. 

No Complaints Here

Let's face it. I can be a bit of a whiner.  

"I'm too...."

"Why didn't I....?"

"I hate....."

"I have to....."

"I never...."

Complain, complain, complain. I've been feeling lately like that's really all I do. And that's in spite of me pretty much having absolutely nothing to complain about whatsoever.

I read about Complaint/Restraint via a Fast Company article a month or so ago, and I haven't been able to let it go. What would it be like to really focus on living a life without complaints? Is it possible to completely eliminate complaining all together? 

I'm gonna give it a try.  

For the next 4 weeks, I'm going to focus on the positive & attempt to totally cast out complaints. I'll be chronicling my journey toward a whine-free (but not wine-free, obviously) existence here on Fridays. Will it affect my success at work? My relationships? My will power? Will there be no discernible changes in my life? I don't know, but I'm ready to find out. 

Anyone with me? We can be like a Complainers Anonymous support group for each other. Anyone? Don't mess me up on my first day by making me complain that I have to go it alone....

To Me, You Are Perfect

When I was younger, I used to dream about my Prince Charming, my Mr. Darcy, my one true love. I knew there had to be the perfect man out there that would, swoon, love me just as I am. Romanticized visions of marriage and partnership danced in my head. Even doing the dishes together would be foreplay, I dreamt. Sweet wedded bliss meant a best friend and a lover all at once, no need for anyone else.

And it happened. I have an incredible husband. He loves me for me. Yes, yes, yes. It's everything I thought it could be. (Except for the dishes thing, obviously.) But now, as I get older, I'm understanding something that I didn't before. There is absolutely a need for others. All that time I spent seeking Mr. Right may well have been better spent fostering the relationships that I, stupidly, took for granted. Because who else offers us unconditional acceptance & companionship? Who else loves us just as we are?

Exactly. Our girlfriends. Our friend family. Our urban tribe.

Yes, of course, it makes sense that our focus is usually inward, on our own families, on the partnership that we've created within our own homes. But I will argue that nurturing those female friendships that we've come to depend on is also important. (And this isn't just a way for me to get my husband to agree that I need more Girls Nights Out. I mean, not completely.) They keep us sane, they keep us grounded, they keep us going.

And so today, let's raise a glass to all of the ladies in our lives that make it that much more sparkly. Here's to your hilarity and your drive and your swagger and your beauty and your brilliance. To the way you light up a room as you enter. To your unconditional support even when you disagree with us. Here's to your ability to admit fear & insecurity. Here's to your always knowing the right thing to say. To your bad dancing and mistake-making. To your amazing achievements and unbelievable fortitude. To your companionship and always spot-on advice. To your differing opinions and showing us that there is more than one right way. To your quiet strength and the way you speak up for what you know is right. Here's to always being there for each other. Here's to enduring both sun and rain.

Here's to you, you beautiful sparkling amazing you.

"This Didn't Play Like It Did In My Mind...."

This is how I picture it.
It feels like a short skirt/long jacket, 4 inch heel kind of day.  I do not wobble as I walk into the conference room. I am confident, holding my head high.  I command attention and respect from the start.  My presentation is perfect.  I am articulate.  I am the picture of professionalism.  I answer every question without missing a beat.  I convey my ideas and thoughts accurately. I react calmly to every differing opinion, collaborating effectively and productively.  I deserve a glass of champagne. 

This is how it happens.
It feels like a short skirt/long jacket, 4 inch heel kind of day.  Except it's raining and muddy so jeans and a hoodie are really more practical.  I trip over my rain boots as I walk into conference room, throwing off my confidence as well as my glasses.  My awkwardness commands attention.  My presentation is serviceable.  My face, of course, turns bright red as I begin speaking.  I stumble a bit.  I am the picture of nerves.  I answer every question in a long-winded way, confusing those who asked them further. I attempt to react calmly to differing opinions, but the redness of my face, neck and chest tell a different story.  I need a glass of water. 

This is how I picture it.
I walk into the event like I own it, wearing a little black dress and ass-lifting high heels.  Obviously, my legs look incredible.  I have a glass of wine in my hand, and I'm laughing along with others to the most hilarious story I just told.  He sees me before I see him.  I knew he'd be here, of course, and I'm ready to pick up our light banter, just slightly inappropriate flirting from our last meeting.  He sees me before I see him, and I turn & notice him.  A slow, super sexy smile moves over my red lips, and we begin a conversation that seems to last for days.  Captivating and charming, I am completely in control. 

This is how it happens.
I walk into the event cautiously because my dress is too short and my heels are too high.  Obviously, my legs look a little bit pasty.  I see him before he sees me, and I haven't even had time to have a sip of wine yet.  My face immediately turns red.  Totally & completely red.  He greets me, and I say hello, but I can't quite make eye contact.  I turn to talk to others instead, but the story I begin completely misses.  I laugh nervously and avoid looking at him because there's nothing else to do.  He asks me a question, and I slowly turn my red face toward him.  We begin a conversation that seems to last for 3 minutes.  Nervous and awkward, I am blowing my cover.

This is how I picture it.
I am running and running and running, light on my feet, barely breaking a sweat.  I've got the eye of the tiger and I'm running the world and I'm your teenage dream.  5, 6, 7, 8 miles, this is easy for me. Na na na na na, you can't catch me, fear!

This is how it happens.
I am running and walking and jogging and walking, red-faced and sweaty.  I'm bootylicious and I'm all about that bass and I'm making the rockin' world go round.  1, 2, 3, 4 miles, this isn't easy, nothing will ever be easy again.  Fear and self-doubt, catch me if you can!  Oh, shit.

And yet, and yet, and yet, I'm surprised every time.

No, Really, It's Okay

The statements I am about to make might be startling to some of you.  They might make you uncomfortable. You might not be able to relate.  But I am going to say them anyway.

Sometimes my child is an asshole. 
Sometimes my husband and I long for the days when it was just us.
Sometimes I long for the days when it was just me.
Sometimes I want to go back and make different decisions.
Sometimes I wish we had just used a condom.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if Tim and I had just broken up after that big fight right after I moved to Seattle.
Sometimes I want to be somebody other than me.

I know some of you feel the same way as I do, and maybe you've been mommy-shamed or friend-shamed or spouse-shamed for feeling this way - I know I have - but I am here to tell you that it's okay.  It's okay to feel this way.  It has to be okay for us to feel this way.

It's okay to miss your freedom.  It's okay to miss flirting.  It's okay to miss your independence.  It's okay to miss international travel.  It's okay to miss sleeping in.  It's okay to miss being selfish.  It's okay to absolutely delight in your time away from your family.  It's okay to take a Girls/Guys Weekend to Vegas.  It's okay to schedule an Adventure Night (our code name for the otherwise hideously known "Date Night") every week and wish for more.  It's okay to miss the "old days".  It's okay to long for an entire weekend to yourself.  It's okay for you to want it to be about you every once in awhile.  It has to be okay to feel these things.  It has to be okay for us to talk about feeling these things without fear. 

It doesn't mean we don't love our families.  It doesn't mean that we are bad parents or bad partners.  It doesn't mean that we aren't happy with the lives we lead.  It just means that sometimes we're looking over the fence at grass that appears greener. 

Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but it has to be okay to check it out every once in awhile.  How else will we know that our own grass, though overgrown & mossy in patches, is still pretty fucking green after all?

"I cannot sleep unless I am surrounded by books."

I introduced my son to the library last week.  He walked around in a state of awe, making his way down the stacks, running his finger over the spines.  We each chose three books, and, as we were leaving, he said, "Can we go to the library tomorrow too?"

This is the way I want my son to know books.  The way I know books.  In book form.  No need to turn anything on in order to immerse yourself in a story.  No fear of a low battery at an inopportune moment.  A break from reality.  A break from screens. 

I want to read my books in book form.  I want to love them up and crease their spines and fold the corners of their pages.  You will know which ones are my favorites by sight; they have been loved to shreds.  I want that new book smell from a hot-off-the-presses novel by a first time author.  I want a quickened pulse as I hear the UPS guy drop a package from Amazon on to my porch.  I want the deliciousness of having three new books to choose from on a lazy Sunday afternoon.  I want that musty, moldy aroma from a classic that hasn't been checked out of the library in years.  I want to tuck that same classic under my arm as I look for a seat at coffee shop.  I want to feel the weight of Alice Munro or Wally Lamb or Margaret Atwood in my carry-on as I board a plane.  I want to see row after row lined up on our many bookshelves and stacked in piles next to our bed.  I want to have the luxury of reading three books at a time just because I can't decide which one I want to read first.  I want to read and reread my favorites so many times their characters become family members.  I want to write dedications on the first page of books given as gifts to solidify memories that may otherwise fade away.  I want to read - and share - my books in book form.

My son will inherit beat-up copies of The Runaway Bunny and Goodnight Moon, and, later, The Hardy Boys and Harry Potter.  We will run our fingers over the yellowed pages of the final The Ends. And then we'll read them again.

"We're All Mad Here."

What do I wish for you this year, my friends? Quite simply, I wish you madness...

This year, let's embrace our lives of madness.  Let's not silence the crazy voices in our heads that encourage us to take chances & risks.  Let's be so mad that fear takes one look at us and backs off in confusion.  Let's love wholly and with abandon, without concern for the possibility of heartbreak.  Let's stay up too late talking nonsense while simultaneously discovering the secrets of life.  Let's ignore our prescribed bedtimes and let our tired eyes reflect the joy of knowing that we chose experience over sleeping.  Let's speak up, madly & bravely, for what we believe in.  Let's share our ideas & our opinions without trepidation, delighting in the fact that others might say, "You're crazy, that will never work".  Then let's make it work.  Let's say yes to everything that seems impossible, everything that seems insane, everything that feels terrifying.  Let's say no when our gut instructs us to do so - even when it's going against popular opinion.  Let's stop playing it safe.  Let's show the world the real us.  Let's remove the filters.  Let's be willing to be the underdog.  Let's accept, no, let's relish, every absurdity that life throws at us. 

This year, let's go all in.

And then, at the end of 2015, when we're asked, "How was your year?", we can all sigh & say with a wicked smile, "It was crazy."

"Some people never go crazy.  What truly horrible lives they must lead." -Charles Bukowski

A Look Back

Because Facebook never seems to tell the whole story, I think it's time to remove the filters & break down my true 2014.  Here's an actual Year in Review of a Full Time Marketer, a Full Time Mommy & a Full Time Party Girl.  Thanks for being a part of it.

1. Successfully made it to Boo's third birthday which he insisted on celebrating without pants
   
2. Listened to "Shake It Off" and "Problem" way too many times
3. Struggled with balance, often finding myself on a teeter-totter of extremes
4. Relished, delighted in, and truly loved being a Mother to Boo & took great pleasure in our time together, watching him grow & change, and experiencing joy & newness through his eyes
5. Relished, delighted in, and truly loved my time alone, with Tim or with my girlfriends
6. Changed the name from "Date Nights" to "Adventure Nights" & made them a priority again
7. Embraced my total Book Nerdiness & read a ton of new genres & authors
8. Called myself a writer, but only wrote 10 blog posts (wait, 11 including this one!)
9. Continued my love affair with wine while actually learning a lot about it during trips to Paso Robles, Napa and Sonoma, twice
10. Learned the definitions of "microagressions" and "mansplaining" & experienced both, along with straight-up sexism, in both professional & personal settings
11. Resolved that I would never, ever again allow myself to be condescended to or bullied again
12. Began running again, found a renewed positive attitude toward it, achieved Personal Bests during a 5K in June & another in November, and committed to running my first half-marathon in June 2015(!)
13. Celebrated as Boo started & thrived in preschool!  Cried at the quick decline of our family's health accompanying this milestone
14. Loved my job, feared losing my job, questioned how good I was at my job, put everything I had into my job, thought about finding a new job, cried over changes to come in my job, explored how I could turn my love of my job into a business, and, finally, embraced the uncertainty of my job
15. Cried as my Aunt, my God Mother, someone I've been very close with over all of these years, battles a disease that has turned her into a shell of herself.  Prayed - something I almost never do - for her and our family and all of the families struggling with disease & dementia
16. Watched as my friendships changed, mourning those that are now lost & finding joy in new friends, renewed friends, and, of course, old friends
17. Laughed.  A lot.  Cried a lot too.  (I guess there was balance in some areas then.)
18. Dug deep into the idea of "Having It All", struggled with the guilt of being a working mother, and learned from the experiences of other women.  Looked forward to continuing to pursue & share more on this topic in the new year 
19. Navigated the minefield that is a 9-year relationship; always trying to be careful, treading lightly & treating it with respect while always just a little worried what might blow up
20. Chalked up yet another year without international travel (not counting Canada, eh), and the hole in my gypsy soul got bigger by the day
21. Had lots and lots and lots of Dance Parties (see #2)
22. Accepted some of the things in my life I cannot change, forgave myself for some larger mistakes and simultaneously struggled with regret
23. Marked the 20th anniversary of my high school graduation, reminding me of the 18 year old poet & dreamer that's still inside me & remembering to listen to her a little more often
24. Thought to myself over and over again, "I can't do this.  This is too hard.  I am not equipped for this.  I can't, I can't, I can't."  But then I went ahead and did it anyway. 
25. Expressed gratitude for this amazing life I am lucky enough to lead.  But not nearly often as I should have done.

What a year it's been. xo

The Scariest Halloween Tale You'll Ever Read

Quiet now, Gentle Reader, and I'll tell you the tale of the scariest Halloween ever.  Consider yourself warned.   

It was Halloween 2010, and it was dark & stormy night in Seattle.  While usually this is a quiet night amongst ghouls and goblins (they consider it "amateur hour"), this year was a little different.  This year, the wickedness in all of them couldn't be contained.  And so, the witches & the warlocks, the ghoulies and the ghosts, and one Pilot and his Stewardess, in search of tricks and treats and mini-bottles of alcohol, stormed the streets of Ballard wreaking havoc on the bars and restaurants, but mostly on themselves. Please ensure that your seatbelts are fastened for takeoff.  Smoking is allowed on this flight.

Like so many fallen horror film friends before them, this Pilot and his Stewardess went ahead and broke every rule out there.  Everything from the Bad Idea In Order To Survive Playbook was put into action.  Every mistake was made.  Everyone knew danger was lurking, but no one listened. Instead, they drank, smoked, had unprotected sex Just This One Time, and drank and smoked some more.  They basically called out to the unknown monsters awaiting them, "Here we are! Come and get us!  We can't do anything to stop you!"

(Cue distant scream from an undisclosed location.)  They looked around, wondering who was crying out.  Seeing nothing, they went back to their wicked ways, unaware of the danger that was just on the horizon.

And then....9 months later....they finally realized where that scream was coming from.  And there were no Emergency Exits in sight. 

BOO!

Be safe out there, kids.  There is no turning back. 

Happy Halloween!

Smoke It If You Got It!

In honor of the opening of Seattle's first legalized pot shop a few weeks ago, I have decided to share with you some of my finer moments under the influence of this now-legal herb.  So sit back, relax, and have plenty of snacks ready to go.

Paranoia Sets In
The first time I got stoned, I was sitting on the back patio of my Mom's house in Plymouth with my girl friend who I will call Sally just in case she doesn't want to be associated with this story.  I had smoked before, but it's likely that I didn't inhale properly because that summer evening was definitely the first time I felt it.  Yep, as we sat on the peach-colored patio chairs, Michigan summer sun setting slowly, toking off our borrowed bowl because we clearly did not have our own paraphernalia, we got stoned.  We laughed our asses off too.  Until we heard the police sirens.  Sally thought it would be funny to tell me that the police were on to us, and they were probably coming to arrest us that minute.  Being the insane rule follower that I am & unable to correctly identify tone in my altered state, I totally freaked out.  My paranoia & freaking out then caused Sally to forget that she had, in the first place, been joking, and now SHE was also freaking out that the cops were after us for the tiny bag of shake we managed to procure - probably from one of our younger brothers.  We decided our best option was to head inside and HIDE under some blankets in the family room from the inevitable sting that was about to occur.  Forty-five minutes later, we were beginning to sober up.  In the world's first true A-HA moment, Sally remembered that, oh crap, she had actually just been joking around about the cops from the start!
Disaster averted, we went back to the patio to regain our buzz & then watched reruns of Quantum Leap for the rest of the night.

It's Jamaica, Mon
A few years later, I went to Jamaica on Spring Break with some of my sorority sisters.  I would like to clarify that we were not in the semi-nice part of Jamaica.  In fact, we were in the total not-nice part of Jamaica.  However, it was to our benefit that marijuana smugglers from my neighboring hometown of Livonia, Michigan also enjoy staying in the not-nice part of Jamaica.  Yes, Gentle Reader, it's true.  I met a real life drug smuggler from Michigan in the bar of our hotel.  And - surprise, surprise - he didn't mind sharing his stash with some college girls.  As long as we didn't mind sharing our fifth of banana rum.  (We didn't.)  Wisely, four of us girls went to his hotel room where he proceeded to roll joint after joint.  He would take a couple of tokes, decide that it was not smoking properly and would promptly throw it off the balcony.  This happened six or seven times before he finally rolled one that he felt good about.  Before leaving, he gave me a handful of pot to take with me.  "What should I do with it?" I asked.  "Put it in your pocket, mon!" he replied.   Aside:  you can bet your bottle of banana rum that we went back the next day and collected those joints he threw off the balcony.  Interestingly enough, they smoked fine for us.

We Should Start AAA In New Zealand
And a few years after that, I was living in New Zealand.  My girl friend, Casey (yeah, I changed her name too), and I were on a month-long road trip in the South Island.  If you have been to New Zealand, you will know that one simply does not go on a road trip without a lot of dak.  (Aside: the word "dak" is slang for pot Down Under.  If someone offers you "dak cake", it is not something you should eat 2 or 3 pieces of because you think it's just delicious chocolate cake.  End of aside.) While visiting Mt Cook National Park, we were staying at the Mt Cook YHA.  Gentle Reader, this is basically a youth hostel in the middle of freaking Mordor.  It is, how shall we say, isolated. After an awesome day of hiking, we decide to go out to the car to relax & toke up a bit.  We were listening to music, talking, laughing, being ridiculous.  We got out of the car, locked it up because, you know, we're in the middle of nowhere, when we turned back to realize that the car, in fact, was still running.  We had smoked so much dak that we locked the car with the keys in the ignition still running.  Except that we had also smoked so much dak that it was so hysterical that we couldn't stop laughing or do anything about it.  A locksmith made the trek through Mordor the next day.  He also, wisely, brought us a tank of gas.  We had to give him the ring (My Preciousssss) in exchange.  Seemed fair.

Happy Toking, Seattle!

It Was 20 Years Ago Today (Here's to the Class of 1994)

June 12, 1994

With butterflies in my stomach & pink cheeks, I delivered Plymouth-Salem High School's graduation speech to the Class of 1994.  In the middle of it, I did the one thing that I had been

cautioned against doing.  The one thing that could ruin the whole operation.  You guessed it.

I cried.

I cried because, thus far, 1994 had been the best year of my life, and I couldn't imagine how it could ever get better than that.  I cried because my speech spoke of living in the moment & experiencing real & true & raw emotions as you feel them.  I cried because I saw my Mom crying from the third row.  I cried because my Best Friend and I were going to different schools.  I cried because I was an idealist, a poet, a lover of words & emotions, someone who felt everything deeply & personally.  I cried because I was a 17-year old girl.  I cried because I had realized that happiness & sadness are so often two sides of the same coin.  I cried because I just couldn't stop myself.

And now, here we are, 20 years later.

I am no longer an idealist.  Years of education, both personal & academic, have made me into a realist.  And sometimes even a cynicist.  I don't write poetry anymore.  Instead I am a (sometime) blogger who takes her baby to bars.  My Best Friend did go to a different school, and she now lives in a different city.  And she's still my Best Friend.  (Yay, Katie!) I still consider 1994 one of the best years of my life....along with 1995, 1999, 2001, 2006, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2013, and 2014.  It did get better.  And better.  And even better after that.  Living in the moment is a challenge for me. It doesn't come naturally like it did when I was 17.  But I strive to be present, to be where I am when I'm there & drink in all the moments, both good & bad.  I will always be a lover of words & emotions.  But I don't wear my heart on my sleeve any longer.  I have become guarded, someone that holds my cards pretty close.  I prefer to ask questions & learn about others rather than share my own story.  (Although, with a few glasses of wine, I can usually be persuaded to spill.)  I still cry when I see my Mom crying.  But instead of embracing it, I usually try to convince her to stop.
And I still know that happiness & sadness are often two sides of the same coin.  And I think that's why I am crying now.

Hugs & love to the Class of '94.  Twenty years ago, I wished you lives that were experienced through joyful & wondrous eyes.  Today, I wish you another 20 years that just keep getting better.  And better.  And even better after that.

P.S.  Crying never ruins anything.  Except maybe your makeup.