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! 

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.

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.

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.

I Just Looked Away For A Second

***Disclaimer:  This is actually a post I wrote a few years ago.  Several conversations I've had recently made me think it might be interesting to some folks now. 

***Another Disclaimer:  This post was originally inspired by nothing specific except for years of musing on the topic and possibly a Tori Amos song.  

Sometimes we, as coupled folks, get our heads turned.  You know what I mean by "heads turned", right?  We get, shall we say, distracted by someone that is not our partner.  Maybe it lasts for a dance or a song or a drink.  Or maybe it's a little more durable - it becomes a crush.  This person is not your partner.  You don't pick their dirty undies off the floor.  You don't bicker with them over the little things...or the big things.  They can be anything you want them to be.  And so, our heads are turned.  

It's natural, normal, human for us to turn around for someone else every now and then.  Fidelity is a gift we give our partners.  I certainly wouldn't say it comes naturally.  It's work.  It's hard.  Often, we fail.   Having our heads turned is almost like a get-out-of-jail-free card.   As long as you don't act on it.  

Tim and I made a deal a long time ago that we would tell each other about our crushes.   (And if anyone tries to tell me that they've never had a crush on anyone else other than their partner, I will openly call them a liar.)   I think this seems like a good thing.  When you talk about it with your partner, they are now part of that world.   Nothing is secretive, nothing is hidden.  And who knows?  Maybe you might have a little fun with it.   Depending.    

Because having your head turned can be really quite exciting, can't it?  The fantasy of someone you don't know well.  The imagining of who they might be, who you want them to be, how the two of you could be.  The not knowing.   Ah, the delicious taste of ambiguity.

This Is Where We Used To Live

At the end of an episode of Girls, Hanna is dancing on her own in her room when roommate Marnie comes home, finds her, and a roommate/BFF dance party immediately commences.  Which is clearly what would happen in real life.

I loved living alone, and of course, I love living with my family.  But when I think about some of the most fun, most hilarious & most memorable moments of my life, so many of them took place in grungy old apartments shared with some of my best girls.  As roommates, we became almost like sisters, closer & more honest.  When you live in as close of quarters as we did, there isn't a lot of room for anything less.  C'mon, let's go behind the scenes of when girls are roommates!

You will turn up the music really, really loud so you can't hear her fighting with her boyfriend. Even at 1am.  You will come home after work to find that an impromptu keg party has commenced, and they need a fourth for Euchre.  You will share everything:  shampoo, cigarettes, Doritos, secrets, money, toothbrushes, intimate details about your booty calls, clothes, modes of transportation.  If your boyfriend dumps you, she will come home with beer, wine, and ice cream - just because she wanted you to have options.  You will get pissed when she eats all of your leftovers that you were saving specifically for dinner that night.  But you'll forgive her when she pulls out some pot she scored that day.  You will have inside jokes that are so old & so complex, you won't be able to remember how they even got started.  But they will still be hilarious anyway. You will have no qualms about walking around naked in front of each other. You will laugh more than you ever thought possible.  You will make up a choreographed dance at 11pm on a Tuesday just because.  You will hear her having incredibly loud sex on a regular basis. And it won't faze you.  You will be there for each other during the big things, the scary things, the life-changing things. A good Monday night will be watching Lifetime Television for Women together while drinking White Zin and eating tuna noodle casserole. You will refer to you & your roommate as "we" and "us" more than often than you do with your boyfriend.  You will actually be more of a "we" and an "us" than you are with your boyfriend. You will agree on everything.  You will fight about everything.  You will feel sadness when you move out of that dirty little apartment because you'll know that it's the end of something.  But you'll also know that you're more than just friends now.  You're so much more than that.  

I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends

Sometimes we have the good fortune of crossing paths with someone we just vibe with.  You know what I'm talking about, right?  We meet someone, and it's just easy.  Conversation flows so naturally right from the start that it feels like we're old friends.  We're clicking.  We're connecting. We're vibing.  It's incredible when this happens, right?  How lucky are we?  How fortuitous is it that out of all the people in the world, we have stumbled across each other?  We have found a kindred spirit, someone who just seems to inherently "get" us.  When this happens, it's one of my favorite things ever.

Sometimes when we meet one of these kindred spirits, we become close friends.  We keep vibing through the years, we will never, ever run out of things to talk about, not ever.  We will open another bottle of wine, and then another, just because we don't want the moment to end.  We can go weeks, months, even years without seeing each other, but when we are finally in the same room again, it feels like balance has been restored in our worlds.  We just make sense.   

And sometimes when we are very lucky, we marry our kindred spirits.  

Other times, we only have the opportunity to vibe with each other for a night or maybe a weekend. We somehow know that our connection has an expiration, so we must soak up every second.  We stay out too late, we talk all night, we must fit in every conversation we would ever have throughout our lifetimes into hours. Later on, the moment will have passed, our connection will have changed.  But we'll always have Paris. 

Sometimes we just have a sense about someone, a sense that given the right opportunity, the chance to talk, to share a moment, that we would be kindred spirits.  And sometimes it takes us by complete surprise.  We are blindsided by our new friendships.  But no matter how they happen, how they hit us, or for how long they last, these are the connections, the people, the moments, that make this life so delicious.  Drink them in. 

And if you're reading this post, and you think I might be talking about you, you should know that I absolutely am.  

Part Time Party Girl

WARNING.  Shocking statement ahead.

It appears that I may not be able to party the way I could when I was 24.  I know, GASP, right?  In fact, I am actually thinking that it might be time to retire the "Full Time Party Girl" from my self-description.  Or, at the very least, amend it to "Part Time (As Long As There Is Ample Recovery Time) Party Girl".

Honestly, usually, these days, I'm quite happy with going part time.  Content with the much quieter lifestyle I've created.  Early to bed and clarity of mind and all that.

Usually.  Because even though green smoothies and detox tea are terrific for breakfast almost every morning, sometimes you just really need want bacon and a Bloody Mary as big as your head.  Sometimes it's necessary okay to revert back to your full time party person status.  Sometimes, very rarely, but sometimes, you might even need to pull a double.  (Or a triple?)  Yes, your recovery time will be exponentially increased, and there will be much less clarity about the night(s) before than back in the day, but you, with your years of experience & drive, are up to the task.  Sometimes you just need to listen to that devil on your shoulder.  This is especially true when there is an open bar.

But then, there will come a moment when you are tired and burnt out, when you begin preferring water to wine, when flirting has become more forced than fun and your party clothes are too binding.  And that's when you will make your way home.  You will crawl into your own bed made with clean, fresh sheets occupied by the ones that love you most of all, and you will retire your full time status.  The next few days will involve a lot green juice, kale, and possibly 2-a-days.  You will go to bed at your usual 10pm bedtime. You will rest & take your vitamins.  You will know that you cannot party the way you could when you were 24.  But you will also know you that still got it.

And that, for me, and maybe for you, is called balance.

Like A Boss

I have been told many, many times in my life that I am bossy.  I've been told I can be "difficult".  I am "tough as nails".  I can be "challenging to work with".  Does this make me feel belittled?  Inferior?  Like less of a leader?  Does it make me want to #BanBossy?

Hell no.

Yes, I am bossy.  I am also the boss.  I get things done.  Yes, I'll tell you what to do - "boss you around", some might say - but only after I've cracked the whip on myself.  Can I be difficult, challenging, & tough?  Damn right.  I am those things because I am passionate.  I am strong.  I care.  And you know that I am not asking/telling you to do anything that I wouldn't/couldn't/haven't done myself.  I'm with you in the trenches.  I get my hands dirty.  I am bossy and gutsy when the situation calls for it.  And proud of it. 

There will be no banning of bossy of my household.  I will not be offended or threatened by this word, nor do I think we should teach our kids that they should be either. Take bossy - along with ambitious, assertive, tough, challenging - and feel empowered by them.  Own them.  We can teach our children - all of the children as these are not gender-specific words - that they do not need to react defensively to any of these labels.  Instead, we can feel pride that we are kind of people that make things happen.  We have guts & strength.  We are passionate.  We care.  We can be proud when we are referred to as bossy.  

We can teach our kids that Bossy one day becomes The Boss.  And The Boss Runs The Show.  

It's Your Day - A Woman's Day.

Today is International Women's Day.  Nasdarovje*!

I first became aware of International Women's Day, oh, maybe 5 years ago.  Our close friends, Maura & Gabe, having been in the Peace Corp in Ukraine where Women's Day is an actual national holiday, brought the celebration back to us here in Seattle.  They would host a party, they said.  We were to arrive at 3pm. We were instructed to bring a bottle (or two) of vodka, and we were given specific Ukrainian dishes to make & bring to share.  (Aside:  I was, until this party, a beet virgin.  Beets stain things, friends. They stain everything.  End of aside.)

When one arrives at an International Women's Day party, one notices that all of the regular furniture that belongs in the host's living room is absent.  Instead, it is replaced with long family-style tables and chairs. The tables are lined with bottles of vodka and overflowing bowls of food wherein potatoes and pickled vegetables are in abundance.  Everyone is smiling and laughing and hugging and talking.  Find your seat, friends, because the celebration is about to begin!  Nasdarovje!

It's International Women's Day**, and it's a day to celebrate the women in our lives, the women we love, the women who have changed us, the women who have made us who we are, the women we can't imagine our lives without, the women who inspire us, the women who give us hope, the women who have sacrificed for us.  It is a day for all women:  mothers, daughters, sisters, grandmothers, wives, and girlfriends.

We all take our seats at the table, and there is a buzz in the air.  Someone stands, raises his glass, and proposes a toast to the beauty & loveliness of all of the women in the room.  Definitely a toast I can get behind.  Nasdarovje!  We all clink, drink, and the celebration is officially underway.

This Women's Day party is truly a Thanksgiving.  Strangers are now family, bonded over our common love of women.  And vodka.  The food is never-ending.  "Just keep eating," Maura encourages us.  We all take turns standing & offering our toasts to all of the world's wonderful women.  The celebration continues into the night.  We're dancing and laughing and the toasts begin to get a little blurry.

The next morning I wake up with beet-stained fingers, glitter in my bed, and a deep gratitude for all of the strong, courageous, wise, patient, generous, beautiful women in my life, both near & far.

Today is International Women's Day.  I think a celebration is in order.
Here's to you, ladies.  Nasdarovje.

*I do not know if this is the correct spelling.  The internet offers many options.

**Please note, International Women's Day has a long history, and I am not trying to discount that by leaving it out of this post.  This is simply how Women's Day was introduced to me, and this is what it means to me.

***Maura's original caption to this picture was, "Tim, it's Women's Day! Give her that beer! And for that matter, give her your hat too!"

Get Glowing!

Confession time:  I gained 10 pounds in the last 6 months of 2013.  True story.  Wow, it's, like, even more shocking now that I see it in writing.  Now before you think I was unhappy or using chocolate & cheese to soothe myself during another Seattle rainy day, I want to make something clear.  I totally loved every minute that I was making myself fat.

I know.  Gasp, right?

Here's the thing - 2013 was a great freaking year.  I celebrated early & often with amazing meals which included lots of wine, bread & dessert.  I also work from home which means getting from my bed to my workspace is a minimal commute, and I'm not spending the hours on my feet that I used to.  And while I embraced running in the early part of the year, later it just didn't seem as important as work, playing blocks with Boo, or binge-watching Friday Night Lights.  Basically, any kind of balance flew out the window, and my health & well-being became my lowest priorities. Sound familiar?

And then came mid-December.  Holy shit, friends.  I could, quite literally, only fit into 2 pairs of my pants - not including yoga pants. Yoga pants, I might add, for which I was clearly not wearing to do yoga.  Dude. That sucks.  That sucks so bad.

Something had to give.

I am a person that both puts weight on & takes it off pretty easily.  But I didn't need a crash diet or a quick fix.  I needed a lifestyle change.  A new way of thinking.  A mindset reboot.  I needed a new balance.

And then I found Jenn Jordan, the Resolution Challenge, and For The Glow.

Long story short - the Resolution Challenge is a 6-week program for women only that includes personal coaching from the amazing Jenn, a detox diet, meal plans, webinars, tons of recipes, participation in a private Facebook community, daily online workout videos plus loads of additional workout options including in-person here in Seattle.  At this point, I am only 4 1/2 weeks in, and I swear to God, my life has changed.  And because I could not imagine not being a Glow Girl anymore after my 6 weeks is up, I am now a Lifetime For The Glow Member.

Aside:  I am not usually the type of person that schills things via my blog, right?  You've got to know how much I love this program if I'm writing about it.  In addition, I'm really not the type of person that talks about eating healthy & working out either so that also speaks to my passion.  End of aside.

And this is why I'm writing this blog post.  While I'm not going to give you my results just yet - hey, I still have a week and a half to go - I will tell you, a pair of jeans I haven't been able to wear in 7 months, fit again.  My super skinny-haven't-been-able-to-wear-them-since-2008-jeans are thisclose to looking amazing. (Although stylish may be a different story.)  But it's not about the weight loss anymore.  It's about the complete & total lifestyle change.  It's about feeling, looking, and actually being strong.  It's about positivity & mindfulness & inner beauty.  It's about making the best choices for myself.  It's about balance.  It's about community.  It's about realizing that I'm stronger that I think I am. It's about kicking ass.

"I'm not telling you it's going to be easy.  I'm telling you it's going to be worth it."

I wanted to blog about For The Glow right now because I know there are a lot of ladies out there that feel the same as me.  You want a change.  You need a change.  You're seeking balance.  You're ready to kick some ass.  If that sounds like you, I highly, highly recommend joining me as a Glow Girl right now.

Cause here's the thing - from now through Feb 11, you can become a Lifetime Member for $189.  That means you'll get tons of meal plans, diets, workouts, connection to an amazing community of women, and coaching from Jenn.  Oh, and when you do those workouts, first you'll get your ass kicked.  But before you know it, you'll be kicking ass.  And no, you don't have to be in Seattle. You can totally have your ass kicked virtually.  You'll also automatically be enrolled in each year's Resolution Challenge (Jan/Feb) plus Bikini Boot Camp (Apr/May).  But if you decide to do this after Feb 11, the price goes up to $799.  Rightfully so.  I seriously feel incredibly lucky to have met Jenn, discovered For The Glow and become a Lifetime Member for such a great value.

Okay, I'm off my soapbox now.  (Fortunately, these days said soapbox does not buckle under the pressure of my person.)  I'm just so unbelievably excited at how I look & feel right now that I just want you all to come Glow with me.

Note:  The For The Glow website is under construction right now so while this link will work for you to learn more about Jenn & the program as well as sign up, you won't be able to poke around the rest of it right now. But that will all change when the new site goes live on 2/11! 

Additional note:  I'm not, like, getting paid by Jenn for telling you guys about her program or for anyone who signs up.  I really & truly just wanted to share my experience with you.  That, and my newfound love of green smoothies, Amazing Grass and chia seeds. 

I Am All Of These Things

*Yes, it's been 2 months since I've written.  Let's call it summer vacation*.

I've been thinking a lot lately about different sides to our personalities, the various ways that we can behave or react depending on the moment, the many hats we all seem to wear.  We may be one person to a work colleague and someone entirely different to, say, a close friend.  We can even change throughout the day.  For example, I always call out my own "work personality", and she is someone very different from "Mommy" or "Party Girl".  But when I'm at work, does that mean I cease being Mommy?  Does my goodtime girl nature just disappear during those 8 hours a day, 5 days a week?

Of course not.

This is the wonderful thing about being a woman.  We are all of these things, all of the time.  Sometimes one part of who we are is just a little bit more obvious, it's visible, floating on the surface while the rest of our life experiences, our personal DNA, is pushed down, a little less clear, but still there nonetheless.  And, more than that, we own who we are.  I am exactly who I say I am.  And no one has the authority to tell me otherwise.

I am a full-time mother. I am a full-time marketer.  I am a full-time wife.  I am a full-time best friend.  I am a full-time party girl.  I am a full-time daughter.  I am a full-time perfectionist.  I am a full-time maker of mistakes.  I am indecisive and quick and lazy and motivated and loving and hurtful and open-minded and judgmental and smart and silly and sensitive and unthinking and joyous and blue and wonderful and weird.

I am all of these things, all of the time, simply because I am.

(I am, however, a part-time blogger.  I know I can't slip that one past you, Gentle Reader.)

Join The Club

I had a conversation on Friday about being a parent.  I was chatting with someone without kids about what it's like to have kids.  

"Tell me the truth," he said.  "The only thing anyone ever says is, 'It's the best thing I ever did.'"

I laughed and immediately replied, "It's the best thing I ever did."  Long pause.  "And it's the hardest thing I ever did."  

I'm going to speak honestly here.  Are you ready?

There are certainly been times that I have thought to myself, or even said out loud to Tim, why in the hell did we decide to have a kid?  Being a parent is unbelievably hard - especially when you are as selfish as I am.  It is not about *you* anymore, not ever.  (Well, maybe on Mother's Day, but you're probably committing at least 407 selfless acts on that day instead of your usual 907.)  There are the really hard days where nothing is right and no one is happy and many tears are shed.  There are the days when you just want to run away and do only what you want to do when you want to do it.  There are the days when you feel like you haven't been alone in years, and you just want to have 5 freaking minutes by yourself to silently pound a glass of wine.

And then there are the other days.  The days of baby laughs and beaming smiles.  Days of cuddles and kisses, new experiences and pure joy.  The days of growth and excitement and change.  The days of seeing the world for the first time through your child's eyes.  And these days come so much more often than the others.  

So here's the thing that I didn't say to him but should have:  Becoming a parent gives us this outrageous capacity for love.  You will love this little person more than you ever thought possible.  I think our hearts must grow 3 sizes on the day that we first see our baby's face.  And along with that love come this new & incredible compassion for others.  We are more empathetic, we are more patient, we are more kind.  I believe that, for me, being a parent has made me a better person.

(It also makes us absolute freaking superheroes.  There's something pretty cool about that too.)  

Raise Your Glasses, Girls

It wasn’t until after I graduated college that I really understood the importance of female friends.  I mean, I *had* them, but they were few & far between, and I definitely took them for granted.  I always preferred the company of men (ahem), and I simply didn’t appreciate the importance, nay, the necessity of best girlfriends.

Fortunately, my old friends didn’t give up on me during those dark years, and, in my late 20's, I was lucky enough to find myself part of a true gang of girlfriends.  After all those years, I finally got it.  And then, I moved to Seattle, away from the comfort of the chicks that knew me…and loved me nonetheless. 

Lucky for me, I already had one built-in Seattle girlfriend, so I was doing much better than most that are new to the land of the Deep-Freeze.  And now, 6 years later, I am fortunate enough to belong to another gang.  And a badass gang at that. 

But today, one of us is going away.  She is pursuing her dreams, her goals, what feels right for her.  And we’re so happy for her.  But we are sad for us.  We know that our lives will go on. Wine Club Book Club will still meet.  We will still celebrate together, hurt together, laugh together, gossip together, round-table together.  But now, there will be a little Laetitia-sized hole in our hearts. 

Still, here’s the thing about this gang.  Once you’re in, you’re in.  You can’t get away from us that

easily.  We're badasses, remember? 

And so, with this glass of Happy Wine, I toast you, Laetitia.  You little French-speaking, ass-kicking, sextopus-making, American bikini-wearing, wine-drinking, marathon-running, truth-speaking, Chinese perm-getting, booty-smacking, ghetto grocery store-shopping, Cherry Pie-dancing, party-instigating amazing girlfriend, you. 

Here's to you, my dear one.  We love you.

Validation Street

I said to someone the other day that I "don't normally need validation" in my life. When I said it, I actually believed it. For some reason, though, this statement has been nagging at me. And so, as I often do when I'm obsessing learning about something, I looked up the definition.

val·i·date   [val-i-deyt]

–verb (used with object), -dat·ed, -dat·ing.

1. to make valid; substantiate; confirm.

2. to recognize, establish, or illustrate the worthiness of [xxx]

 

Now I realize what a ridiculous statement that actually was - not for everybody, but for me.  Of course I need others to substantiate my work or my thoughts or my feelings.  Of course I need confirmation that I am a marketing dynamo, that I look cute in my new top, that my blog is funny.  Of course I need you to recognize that I am good mother, a witty writer, a worthy contributor. 

Of course, I do. 

 

Someday, I will be that sort of woman who is so strong and so confident and so self-assured that she doesn't need any validation from anyone, any place, any time.  Someday I will always be the sort of woman that I can sometimes be, that woman that validates her own beliefs, that recognizes her own truths to be self-evident.  Someday I will be this woman 100% of the time.  

 

But, for today, just tell me you like me.

Cult of Personality

I took a personality test the other day.  The questions were of the usual personality test variety - lots of "I always" and "I never" and "I am" and "I feel".  There were, like, 500 questions or something, and many of them were repetitive.

4.   I am a happy person and always in a good mood.  TRUE

27.  I am a moody person and often irritable.  TRUE

209.  I am patient with others.  TRUE

355.  I feel frustrated at others lack of understanding of a situation.  TRUE

400.  I do not like confrontation.  TRUE

415.  I can be quick to get angry and will easily express it. TRUE

What does this tell you about my personality?  Now you know who I am?  Now you understand me? 

I am exactly who I say I am, and tomorrow I am someone else entirely.

Woman - untraceable by tests, uncageable by categories.