It's Tuesday, so that means I'm over at Off Our Chests. Today's topic: focusing on the little things, and how that helps me find my happy. (I wrote it completely convinced that what I do is regular and ordinary, but then by the time I was done I began to wonder if I'm a freak and you'll all think I'm weird. As if you didn't already.)
Three days in New York City hardly seems like enough time to get into trouble, but I sure tried, because we all know that I leave the house so rarely, traveling to an actual city is a major pilgrimage for me. It requires THOUGHT and PREPARATION and MASCARA. All of these things are slightly foreign to me, but I soldier along as best I can. So! When we last left off, my journey TO the city had been blessedly uneventful. My first meal there was delicious, and I skipped out on a late night of karaoke to attend to my beauty sleep. [Sidebar: I can't hang this on my 40th birthday, but maybe around...
Yesterday I left my humble abode and pointed my car Atlanta-ward, on the first step of my journey to New York City. I felt confident---nay, positively smug---that my trip would bring me enough material for a blog post or three, because something wacky always happens when I travel. I would just wait for the magic to unfold. Maybe there'd be a giant accident on the highway. Possibly I'd get stuck in Security or have to argue with the TSA about my hair products. Maybe my flight would be canceled! Alas, none of these things happened. I had an uneventful drive to the airport, parking was easy and...
1) Chickadee is still doing well on her new, dye-free medication. Today was the first blood test and the tech was so good, she didn't even feel the needle. (Okay, technically that's two things. Deal with it.) 2) Today I sent out a panicked I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN HANDLE THIS AUCTION SINGLEHANDEDLY email to the head of our PTA (translation: Please help!) and the next four businesses I approached for donations all happily ponied up. I keep reminding myself that it's for the children. GIMME ALL YOUR GIFT CERTIFICATES, IMMA GO SELL THEM FOR PENCILS. 3) Monkey had a great day at school today and...
So, um, I never quite know what to say after a post where I've worry-vomited all over the keyboard and the majority of you are so sweet and kind about it, holding back my hair and assuring me that it's okay. I want to follow it up with OH HEY FALSE ALARM, IT'S ALL GOOD! but that isn't really how it goes. On Saturday morning, Otto left at the crack of dawn for a work thing, I packed the children off with their dad for the weekend, and then I spent the entire day being responsible to no one and not talking about anything. Not solving any problems! Not discussing my feelings! Just being silent....
Once upon a time, in a land long ago and far away (okay, fine, it was here, and it was last May; I may be exaggerating just a little, ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?), my darling, sweet, beautiful, talented daughter signed up to be in the marching band this year. And lo it was VERY EXCITING, because being in the high school marching band as an eighth grader felt like a Really Big Deal, and she was excited, and we were excited for her, and we filled out and signed roughly three pounds of paperwork. Medical blah blah blah. Permission blah blah blah. Agree to the code of conduct blah blah blah. Deposit...
It's Tuesday, so that means I'm over at Off Our Chests, and today I'm thinking about the legacy of my childhood asthma, even though it turns out that---from a medical standpoint, anyway---I'm barely affected by it anymore. I'm not quite crazy enough to take up running, or anything, but I definitely need to get over this feeling that my body is the enemy. (Or that I'm just a little crazy. Because... I mean, yes, OBVIOUSLY. But you know.) Come on over and share, if you're so inclined.
Fall has arrived, and with it the dulcet tones of me suggesting to Otto that "it's time to get that damn thing off the driveway." See, during camping season, we keep the trailer in the driveway for maximum access and annoyance. But once it's been determined that we're done annoying everyone at our favorite campgrounds, we store it for the winter. Of course, this means we needed one last camping trip before everything gets packed away for the season. And with Chickadee in marching band this year, she is free to camp... never. Except this weekend! This weekend she didn't have a game, so off we...
Perhaps one of the inaugural "it's not a regret, it's an experience" incidents of my life, today I'm over at Off Our Chests talking about my first year all on my own and lessons learned from it. (Addendum: Sometimes I look back on the choices I've made in my life and marvel that I am still alive and relatively unscathed. Seriously.) And then I look at my fiercely independent child and realize that my mother's dreams really did come true: I actually DID go have a daughter just like me. (Oh, karma!)