The Purse that Liked to Eat Bracelets and Other Sparkly Things

You know how you put socks in the washer, and by the time the laundry comes out of the dryer, there are always missing socks, even though you KNEW you had put matching socks in, and you can’t figure out for the life of you where they end up? Well, I have the purse version of the proverbial sock-eating washing machine, only my purse liked to eat bracelets, beads, and even a breath mint or two. Things kept going in that never came out. When I find a purse I like, I usually carry it for a good long time. However, this purse’s eating habits nearly caused its early demise because I was ready to throw it way after various items kept disappearing from it.

A few months ago, I bought this adorable bright pink purse:


It was cheap, no Coach or Dooney and Burke, or any other expensive thing. It was $12 at TJMaxx. But I love it. Lately though, I started calling it as my cute Black Hole Purse. I have put numerous things in it that just went “poof” and disappeared. The first time it happened, I thought I was just scatterbrained and put the item somewhere else. The second time it happened, I did seriously think, WTH is wrong with this purse? The 3rd time…well, I was becoming slightly worried about my sanity. By the 4th time, I emptied it out and was going to throw it away or burn it. I am not a superstitious person at all, but the way things kept disappearing from this purse was starting to freak me out a bit.

A couple of months ago, actually, just a few days after I bought the purse, I made one of the Angel Ball bracelets to take to work to be photographed. A few days later, I went to get it out of my purse when I was ready to make the rest of them, and it was gone. I was puzzled because I knew I had put it in the zippered pocket on the inside of the purse. When I couldn’t find it, I assumed I had simply misplaced it. I went on my merry way and made the rest of the bracelets and forgot about the missing one.

Then, about a month ago, I made a bracelet for my cousin who recently found out she has cancer. I put it in my purse along with a card for her when I was leaving for work because I planned on stopping at the post office to mail it later that afternoon. Well, time got away from me, I left work late, and forgot about it. A couple of days later, when I finally had time to go to the post office, I couldn’t find it. The card was still there, but the bracelet was not. This time, I emptied my purse out and was so irritated with myself for losing another bracelet as this one had about $40 worth of beads on it. I went to look in my car, thinking that maybe my purse had tipped over and the bracelet had fallen out. I looked in the bead boxes I’d been working out of lately, wondering if I had mistakenly put it away. I looked through my own jewelry. The bracelet was no where to be found. I bought more beads and made another bracelet, immediately put it in an organza draw string bag, put it in my purse, and finally got it in the mail a few days later.

A couple of weeks ago, I planned a bracelet making party with the moms in our support group. I made a bracelet and took it to work to see if my boss liked what I had created. You guessed it, eventually that bracelet disappeared as well. This time, I was left scratching my head and wondering just what in the heck was going on. I again looked in my car, bead boxes, my own jewelry, the bag from the bead store that had all the beads still in it, and no bracelet. I came up with all sorts of theories…the dog ate it…my husband was trying to drive me insane...someone was stealing them (who, I had no idea!) I decided nothing else of any importance was going into the pocket of that purse.

Then came the straw that broke the camels back.

Thursday at work, I was looking for a receipt that I needed to turn in so I could be reimbursed for something I had purchased. At the bottom of my purse, I found some loose crystals from a strand that had broken. I put them in the zippered pocket of my purse along with a pair of nail clippers. For good measure, I zipped the pocket so the beads would have the chance to fall out. Yesterday morning, I went to get the nail clippers from my purse. I unzipped the pocket, and the only thing in it were two tiny beads when I put at least 20 in there just the day before. This time, I was pissed! I turned my purse upside down, dumped everything on the counter, and decided I was going to start a fire in our fire put and gleefully watch my evil purse turn into a pile of bright pink ashes. When the contents of my purse were scattered across the kitchen island, I flopped it down on the counter in disgust. And heard slight “thunk.” The purse is soft, no hard bottom. Thinking that not only was my purse eating things in order to make me crazy, it was ensuring I did go crazy by now making me hear things. I plopped it on the counter again, and there was definitely something in the bottom of the purse. I pulled the fabric lining from the inside and began examining it for a hole, but there was none. It was obvious to me by this point that something was in the bottom of my purse between the lining and the leather part. Finally, I looked at the lining of the zippered pocket and I found a tiny little hole, less than half the size of the tip of my pinky finger. I ripped it wide open, stuck my hand through the hole and found this:




Mystery solved. It wasn’t an evil purse that likes to eat bling after all…just a cheap one with a tiny hole in the lining of the pocket. Maybe I should buy expensive purses from now on. I’ll be poorer, but at least I won’t wonder anymore if my purse is possessed by a bracelet-eating spirit who is trying to drive me insane.

Dancing in the Rain

I have literally been dancing in the rain this week. Rain and tornados and hail…and more rain and more hail…we spent 3 nights in the past week down in the basement because of tornado warnings. April showers and all that. And the basement is so gross right now because Tony is still in the midst of repairing everything after our flood a couple of months ago, so there’s not even any furniture down there. It has been raining and raining and raining…I think we have about one day a week where the sun shines and it doesn’t rain. I’ll still take it over the snow and ice we had all winter.

It has been a while since I’ve written here. Not because I haven’t wanted to or had anything to write about, it’s just that life has been crazy busy lately and by the time I have time to sit and write, I’m too tired to sit and write.

So here’s how I’ve been dancing in the rain lately:

*I’ve been making lots of yummy things to eat.
Too many. I really need some gardening weather so I will be so busy working out in the yard that I will be too tired to make anything other than chicken nuggets and tater tots.

Last week, I made a double batch of blueberry preserves. I’ve never made it before, and it turned out so yummy. We’ve already eaten 2 jars of it. I wish I had made the low sugar recipe, but alas I didn’t, so I’m trying to control myself and not eat it every day. But oh my, it’s so delicious on a toasted bagel.

I also tried a new chicken recipe. Actually, it was a shrimp recipe that I used on chicken instead because not everyone in my family likes shrimp. It’s a copycat recipe of the coconut shrimp at Red Lobster, which I love more than just about any other food. We only go to Red Lobster about once a year, so I don’t eat it that often. Anyway, it was scrumptious. It was messy to make, and time consuming, but well worth it. Everyone loved it. The best part was the dipping sauce that was made out of non-alcoholic pina colada mix, crushed pineapple and sour cream. Tony liked it so much I thought he was going to pick up the bowl and drink it.

On Friday, the kids were out of school, and Rachel had had a friend spend the night Thursday night. She begged me to make homemade cinnamon rolls because I haven’t made them for a long time. So, at 6:30 am, I started making cinnamon rolls. They take forever, so we ended up having them for lunch instead of breakfast. Fortunately, I didn’t eat too many of those because my children inhaled them, and out of these 4 pans:



Only 5 rolls were left.

*A couple of weeks ago, I ended up on fun little shopping expedition with my girlies. It didn’t start out that way, believe me. I was leaving the house for the dreaded weekly Walmart trip, and Rachel asked if she could go because she wanted to look for some new shorts. I’d been telling her for over a week that I would take her shopping, so I told her she could tag along. Then, Lauren decided she wanted to go as well, and while I was envisioning lots of sister sniping since they have raised that to a form of art, I let her come too. Well, we ended up having a blast. They tried on shorts, made fun of clothes, went off together to decide what they wanted me to get for dinner, teased each other (in fun ways for once instead of their usual nasty mean girl ways). Then, when we were in the check out lane, I was teasing Rachel about how her taste in clothes has changed lately. This is the conversation that followed:
Lauren: That’s because now she wants to copy off of me and dress like me because I am soooo awesome! (Oh, yes, my daughter is so very humble, I know).
Rachel: Well, Lauren, that’s what little sisters do when they look up to their big sister!
Me: Picking jaw up from the floor, speechless.
Lauren: That’s okay, we go to different schools so it doesn’t matter right now anyway.
Rachel: Putting her arm around Lauren and putting her head on Lauren’s shoulder) I love you, Lauren!
Me: Again picking my jaw up from the Walmart floor, still speechless
Lauren: (taking Rachel’s arm and head from her shoulder) I love you too, Rachel, but don’t ever put your arm around my shoulder in public again.

I don’t think anything more needs to be said as to how that made this mama feel. I didn’t say a word about it to them at the time, or since. We went out for ice cream after we left Walmart, and for days, just thinking about that afternoon brought a smile to my face and joy to my heart. My kids are all at an age where more often than not, it seems as if they can’t stand each other and that they can’t wait to move out and never have to see each other again. This one afternoon in Walmart gave me a spark of hope that maybe just maybe, they really do care about each other.

I wish I had some pictures of this sisterly love moment, but I don't.

*I’ve been in a jewelry making frenzy.
I made 25 of these bracelets for the Angel Ball:





I also made some jewelry for me to wear to the Angel Ball:





And for my boss to wear to the Angel Ball:





And for Rachel to wear with her Easter dress:




I’ve had on my thinking cap lately to try to come up with a way that I can make some money from selling jewelry. Not that I think I can quit my job or anything, but it would be nice to make some extra money.

*Shoe shopping
I will admit this here and now, and no one in my life right now (except maybe my husband) knows this about me. I used to have a shoe fetish. Well, maybe not a fetish, but I used to love shoes. Before I had kids (aka when I had more money) I bought a lot of shoes. Probably more than one person needed. I had a some shoes that were only worn with one or two outfits. It’s embarrassing to even write that, because I am so not like that now. I rarely buy myself shoes. Well, in the past few weeks, I have bought myself TWO pairs of shoes. First, these:




Yeah, exciting I know. But, they are running shoes. I have started running again for the first time in nearly 3 years. I was on a pretty good running regimen when I fell and hurt my foot in the fall of 2008. I didn’t try to run again until last summer, and I gave up after a short time. This time, I am hoping not to give up. Although the rainy/haily/tornadoy weather isn’t making my resolve to not give up very easy. Tony and Justin love to run in the rain…me, not so much. Maybe when I am a dedicated runner who feels as if a day isn’t complete with a run I will enjoy running in the rain, but for now I don’t.

I was out shopping for something to wear to the Angel Ball, and wandered into Famous Footwear. I didn’t really need any shoes because I have a pair of black shoes that I could have worn. But, they aren’t really all that comfortable, and since that is such a long day and night, I thought maybe something new would be better. I looked at lots of different shoes, everything was way way WAY out of my price range, and I was ready to leave the store when I saw these:




They are so cute. And they were only $12.99…for a good brand of shoes that I have never been able to pronounce (Etienne Aigner) the original price was $85. You can’t tell from the picture, but they are black patent leather, and I felt like a little girl getting new shoes on Easter. They are so comfortable, and I think that is the first time ever that I have been at Angel Ball without walking around barefoot by the end of the night because my feet were screaming “get these shoes off me NOW!!!”

Okay, enough about my feet. And this has gotten way too long. And I will wind down and save the rest for a Dancing in the Rain Part 2. However, I want to share one last quick story about my girls that truly made my heart sing and leap and made me want to skip through fields of daisies and make clover chains to put in my hair.

I mentioned already that we have had lots of storms lately. There isn’t much that truly frightens me, and in fact, I normally love a good thunderstorm. When I don’t have to be out in it that is. Sometimes, there is nothing I like better than curling up under a blanket with a cup of tea and a movie and listening to storms rage outside while I am comfy and safe inside. But, BIG but…tornado weather does not stir up those warm fuzzy grab a quilt feelings. I guess my years in Omaha with many nights spent huddling in bathtubs and basements and back hallways in malls did me in. When the sirens go off, I turn into a big baby, herding my family to the basement, sometimes in the middle of the night, shivering in fear while trying to pretend to the kids that I am cool as a cucumber and that hiding out in the basement is a grand adventure. Friday night, we had scary storms. Hail. High winds. Tornado sirens blaring and stopping and blaring and stopping in 5 minute intervals. We headed to the basement, all while watching the reports on tv of the tornados that were touching down around us. Rachel was hysterical. She always is in storms, which is the main reason I do my very best to remain calm even when I’m not. Friday night, Rachel was so scared, and Lauren said to her, “let’s go sit under the stairs, it’s safer there.” So Lauren and Rachel sat in the closet under the basement stairs, just the two of them for 45 minutes. Lauren told me that SHE would take care of it when I said I would go sit under there with Rachel. Lauren told me later, once the storm had passed and it was safe to leave the basement, that Rachel kept telling her we were all going to die in a tornado, and she (Lauren) kept telling her over and over, no we weren’t, and in 12 hours, this would be all over. I was so proud of Lauren for comforting her sister like that. I imagined them in the closet with their arms around each other since they weren’t out in public. The closet is pretty small, so they were at least sitting next to each other.

That is all for now.

You May be Right...I May be Crazy

I can’t believe that I am going to write what I am going to write next.

Give me a drumroll please, and then hold onto your hat!


I am quickly heading toward 50 and I am looking forward to it.

No, you don’t need to go clean your glasses. I really am looking forward to turning 50 in 2 years.

And no, I haven’t lost my mind. Well, I’m sure there are some folks who might disagree, but for other reasons.

Let me explain. To be honest, I have been dreading turning 50 for a few years now. I think Mr. McDread began twining his creepy fingers into my brain around the time I turned 45 and I remembered how much I had hated turning 40. I was downright depressed about it. So depressed in fact that my friend who planned a surprise party for me told me after the party that she had nearly cancelled it because she thought that I would hate it, and hate her for planning such a thing. I don’t know why I hated it so much at the time, but I have done a lot of pondering about that for the past couple of weeks.

I have never been very sure of myself or of my capabilities and talents. I look back on my teen years with complete and utter horror and wouldn’t take money to relive them. College was better. My 20s were even better, yet I was still so unsure of myself in so many ways. I was trying to figure out how to be a good wife while trying to make my way in the working world. I was struggling to become a mom. I had 4 miscarriages in my 20’s. I had moved 10 hours away from my family and was trying to fit into Tony’s family and make them my own. So while they were good years, they were still filled with so much insecurity.

The best decade of my life so far was hands down my 30s. When I was in my 30s, I was a stay at home mom raising the little beings who called me mom and loving every minute of it. Well, maybe not every single minute, especially those that involved trips to the ER and weeks being cooped up in the house in the winter with sick kids. I didn’t really love potty training either. But I loved everything else. I loved snuggling up on the couch with my children on my lap and reading to them. I loved crawling around on the floor playing cars and Barbies and doing floor puzzles. I loved it when Justin would crawl into bed and curl his sweet little boy self next to me every morning to watch Scooby Doo. I loved coloring in coloring books and teaching them to write their names and playing game after game of Candyland and going to the park and the zoo and for walks around the neighborhood pushing a stroller. I loved tucking them in at night and saying “sweet dreams” as they wrapped their arms around my neck and said “I love you mommy!” I loved it all. I don’t remember ever wishing away their childhood. I was never one to say “God, I can’t wait until my kids are grown!” I was never a mom who wanted to work in order to have “adult interaction.” I truly enjoyed being a stay at home mom and was so thankful every day that I was able to be one. In my 30’s, I think I was the most content I have ever been. We didn’t have many financial worries back then. Life was oh so sweet and good. Not just good. Very good.

Then, I turned 40. My kids were older. The year I turned 40, I started working at Share. Saying I had a hard time adjusting to being a working mom is an understatement. Even though I was only working part time, after being a stay at home mom for 13 years, it was a challenging adjustment. Those first few years, I spent so much time feeling like Gumby, stretched in too many different directions. On the one hand, I loved my job, and on the other, I felt as if I wasn’t a good enough mother any more. There were times when playing with the kids and taking them on outings felt more of a burden than the fun it once had been. Where once I would stop whatever I was doing and play or read if one of the kids asked, I now found myself saying way too often, “I can’t, I need to get the laundry/vacuuming/dusting/etc done.” And I feel so guilty about that. My house isn’t as neat and tidy and clean as I like it to be, and projects fall by the wayside. For the first time in my life, I started buying instant mashed potatoes and canned spaghetti sauce. I know it sounds silly, but for a long time, it really bothered me. It still does at times.

I know I have accomplished a great deal while I’ve been in my 40’s. I’ve done so many different things I never would have imagined I would (or could) do. Some of the people I have met through my job have encouraged, supported and cared about me in ways that no one ever has before. Because of them, I have more confidence in myself than I ever have, yet in other ways, I feel like I did as the insecure teenager I was in high school.

Which leads me to the real point of this post…why I am looking forward to turning 50 and the person who inspired me to turn my thinking around.

A couple of weeks ago, I was having a spectacularly bad day. The reasons why don’t matter, but there were many. I was at work, struggling to get through the day without having a meltdown. I was working downstairs rather than in my own office because I was doing a bunch of different things for my boss, and rather than continually running up and down the steps, I just took my laptop down there to work. It is getting close to Angel Ball time, so now and then, gals from the committee stop in. I love those days…they were some of the first people I met through Share back when I was still a volunteer, and it is always a bright spot in our day when they drop by. In the beginning, I was very intimidated by them; I felt as if they were way out of my league…pretty much all of them are doctor’s wives, they dress to the 9’s, have large beautiful homes, throw fabulous parties, sent their children to the top private schools in St. Louis…you get the picture. However, I quickly learned that they are just like anyone else, they just have more money. None of them have ever treated me as “beneath” them as I imagined they would when I first met them.

Anyway, on this particular day, Francois stopped in. Francois is French, is jus the sweetest person and we all love her. And she loves us and Share just as much. She is a cute and spunky, and I have often hoped that I am that cute and full of life as I get older.

I don’t think she was expecting to have the conversation we had on that day. She sat down at the table with Cathi and I and innocently asked me how I was, how are the kids, etc. Like I already said, it was a bad bad bad day. I don’t even remember exactly how I answered that question, but Cathi ended up stepping in and told her I was having some “challenges” in my life. What an understatement that was! I did end up telling Francois that it was just a rough time, I was having a hard time dealing with some hard issues with my kids while also trying to deal with my own issues…which led to a conversation about menopausal/hormonal issues, how much it sucks, and how much I am so ready to be done with this phase of my life, but that I dread heading into my 50’s. She really seemed to listen, and to care, and then, she told me how awesome her life has been in her 50’s. Better than ever, she said. She said that in her 50’s, she has been more settled, more sure of herself, and her life has been great. She doesn’t care what people think of her anymore, and she is truly happy and content for maybe the first time in her life.

While lately, I have been feeling as my life is going downhill fast, hearing her say that not only made my day, but it made me feel hopeful for the first time in a long time that things will get better. It made me think that maybe the best years of my life aren’t behind me as I have often been thinking, but rather ahead of me. Francois really inspired me that day…inspired me to not only do some reflecting on my life so far, but she also has inspired me to look forward to the next phase. I’ve talked to her several times since then, and each time I do, the first thing she asks is, “How are you? Are things better?” Her care and concern come through loud and clear and means so much to me. I have thought so often over the past couple of weeks how I wish I had many people like her in my life.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a birthday party for my boss who recently turned 60. Francois was there, and I had to get a picture with her.


Can you believe this woman is almost 60? I can only dream of being that adorable when I am almost 60! And yes, I know I look like an Amazon woman next to her, but in my defense, she is about 5 foot zero and probably doesn't weigh 100 pounds.

It used to bother me when people said I was “cute.” I always thought I would rather be described with words such as “lovely,” or “elegant,” or “beautiful.” I always thought of “cute” as the way you would describe a little kid or a puppy or a sweater, not an adult woman. But, now that I am heading towards 50, I honestly think that there is no better compliment someone could say to me than “you are so cute!”  On that same note, couple of weeks ago, one of my coworkers told me I’d changed a lot in the past couple of years, that she never realized how “feisty” I can be. I can think of nothing I’d rather be than a “feisty, cute” 50 year old. And I thank Francois for turning my thinking around.

The Forsythia is blooming!

I love forsythia. There is nothing that screams "Spring is arriving!" quite like those bright yellow blooms, even if there is still snow on the ground. Blooming forsythia has always signified for me that winter is finally coming to an end, and I think that is why I love them so much. I mean, how can you not love something that looks like a bright ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary winter landscape?

Tony does not share my love of them. I wish that I could have a row of them along the back of our fence, so that I can gaze upon them as I am in my kitchen doing dishes or cooking. I've begged and pleaded over the years for Tony to let me plant some, and he just won't give in. I sometimes wish I'd known before we were married how he feels about them because it may have been a deal breaker. (I kid!)

We actually did once live in a house with forsythia in the yard. A whole row of them. It was the house we moved into just before Brandon was born. The day we looked at the house was a sunny yet cold Sunday in March, and while I loved the house and the neighborhood, what sucked me in for good was the row of forsythia across the back fence. The backyard was huge, so there were lots of forsythia, and they were in full, glorious bloom.

A few weeks later when me moved into the house, the forsythia had finished showing off it's beautiful spring sunshiney-ness. But, I envisioned the following spring, when I would happily take pictures of our baby plopped on a blanket in front of those blooming bushes. So, imagine my surprise when one day not long after we had moved in, I came home from work, got out of my car, and heard a chainsaw in my backyard. I went through the gate wondering what the heck Tony was doing back there. There wasn't even a tree back there, so I couldn't imagine what he was doing with a chainsaw. I didn't know we even owned a chainsaw.

Well, I soon discovered that he had gone to Home Quarters and purchased a chainsaw that very day so he could cut down the forsythia bushes! After I stopped in my tracks just inside the gate and stared at him in stunned silence for a few moments, those raging pregnancy hormones that course through a woman's body when she is 8 months pregnant became raging pregnancy hormones on steriods. I started screaming at him, "What the HELLLLLLLL are you DOING??"

That is when I found out my husband hates forsythia as much as I love it. I wondered then and still do, how in the world can you hate something so cheerful? I also wondered what all of our new neighbors thought of me. It was a beautiful April day, lots of people were out in their yards, and here is this hugely pregnant woman shouting curse words at her husband. I think that is the one and only time in my life I have stood out in my yard screaming and cursing. Not one of my finer moments, that's for sure.

Anyway, since I don't have forsythias in my own yard, once I notice them blooming, I usually drive around looking for them. On Monday, I was on my way home from work and noticed a row of them on a hill in someone's front yard. So yesterday, I took my camera to work with me so I could stop and take a picture on my way home. It's not a very good photo, but since it was in someone's front yard, I didn't want to get too close. I didn't want the homeowner to look out the window and wonder why some crazy lady was taking pictures of their house.



Notice the little hyacinths blooming underneath the forsythia.

I also noticed this week that the neighbor behind us has some new forsythia bushes along the side of their house. So, I can stand at my kitchen window and enjoy their bushes. I still wish I had some of my own. I wonder what my husband would do if I just went to a nursery, bought some and planted them? I wonder if he would dare to again cut down my forsythia...

Doing as I Say, Not as I Do

This is not my usual random post of nothingness, nor is it a “dancing in the rain” post. It’s about something that happened this week that truly stopped me in my tracks and made me think about myself in a way that I really haven’t before. So I guess it is a good thing I am going to write about, but also a strange thing.

Of course, it will take a story to get to my point. I could just get straight to the point, but the point wouldn’t make much sense without the story that leads up to the point. I will say before I get started though that this little situation was kind of turning point for me in a way. There have been way too many times in my life when someone has said something to me that was so cutting that I haven’t forgotten the harsh words. I am not going to list them all here, so don’t worry. But, at times in my life when things aren’t going so well and I’m feeling bad about myself, I sometimes conjur up those hurtful things as if they are proof that I am right for feeling bad about myself.

Now that I’ve probably totally lost you and/or thoroughly depressed you/and or made you think I need to seek therapy, I will tell my story.

A few days ago, I read something that a Facebook friend posted that made me cringe, and made me think so much of myself that I had to respond to her, even though she is not someone I normally interact with on FB. And as I was writing to her, something happened…it was a proverbial “light bulb” moment…as I was trying to boost her up, I thought to myself, “why the hell don’t I take my own advice that I am so freely doling out to someone else?”

So here’s what she wrote about. This gal is someone who while I don’t really know her well, I really admire her. She is very overweight, and she recently had some kind of gastric surgery, a sleeve, no idea what that is, but she has lost 60 pounds. She still has a long way to go, probably over 100 pounds still to lose, but she is doing a great job. She is working out, she posts pictures of herself periodically, and when I look at her photos, it is easy to see that she is so proud of how far she has come. It seems like she has a good support system of family and friends cheering her on.

Last Friday, she posted about how she and her family went out to eat, and some woman driving too fast in the parking lot nearly ran over her children. She shouted something to the woman, and of course, the woman yelled something nasty back. She called her a fat bitch.

A few days later, she posted an anti-bullying message that has been going around FB as her status. The first line of it was something like “the person you just called fat may have struggled to lose 30 pounds.” There was more, but the point of her post was how much that nasty woman in the parking lot calling her a fat bitch had affected her. She wrote:
I've felt fat ever since. I can't believe the effect it had on me, even though I know she was an ugly person on the inside. I feel like the almost 60 lbs I've lost are 60 lbs I've gained.

I don’t know this person well at all. But I wanted to cry for her when I read that. She has been doing so well, and is so inspiring to those who DO know her well, and to think that some random person who doesn’t even know her could make such a scathing remark that would now make her feel like she hasn’t accomplished anything at all…well, it pissed me off and made me feel the need to respond to her, even though I have never before responded to her on FB.

I wrote how I totally understood how she was feeling, that I am also a person who takes things people say to me way too much to heart. I wish that I didn’t, but I do, even when my brain is telling me that I shouldn’t. I have always wished I was the kind of person who could laugh, think to myself “bitch” and let nasty comments roll off my back, but I am not. I never will be, so I have just learned ways to live with that unwelcome and hated part of myself over the years. But, like I said in the beginning of this post, I struggle with it. It’s probably one of my greatest struggles. There are so many times I have been unable to get some nasty remark out of my head. And like I also said, they all come rushing in like a tidal wave and drown out anything good that I may feel about myself.

I didn’t tell her all of that, but I started telling her about something I have done for several years to help combat my self-hate feelings of insecurity.

Several years ago, someone from the Share boards wrote something to me that is one of those things that often creeps into my mind and threatens to destroy whatever tiny little bit of self esteem I do have. I’m not going to write it here, because it doesn’t matter what words she said. What matters is the feeling she evoked with her words. I did not know her in person. She knew absolutely nothing about me. Nothing. She knew nothing about the kind of person or friend or mom that I am. She knew nothing about how much of my heart and soul and tears I put into my job. She knew nothing about me at all. And while we had butted heads in the past, it didn’t affect me so profoundly until she made it personal and said some very hurtful things to me about the person she perceived me to be. And I am embarrassed to say that I let her hateful words affect me. I have no idea why.

I remember sitting in my boss’s office in tears (not an uncommon thing to happen by the way! LOL). That day, she told me that what I needed to do was start a “Warm Fuzzy” file…a file of emails, cards, notes, anything else I received thanking me or praising me for what I had done, or just anything that made me feel good and loved and cared about. She said that whenever someone said something to me that was hurtful or unkind or ungrateful, I needed to get that file out and read everything that was in it so that I could put the focus back where it should be…on all of the people who appreciate me and love me rather than on the folks who are Negative Nellies who probably wouldn’t be pleased by anything.

Why is it that so many of us women only focus on the people who cut us down rather than those who lift us up? I wish I had the answer to that.

Anyway…as I was writing to her about the Warm Fuzzy file I keep, and how it really does help me on bad days, and how she is doing an amazing job at getting herself healthy and she needs to focus on that instead of some random bitchy woman, that was when I had my light bulb moment and wondered why I could so easily tell someone else to not let a nasty comment affect her when I can’t do that myself? I started feeling so fortunate that I have had way more positive, supportive uplifting people in my life than negative bitchy people. And if you are reading this, you are one of the good ones!

And THEN…a funny thing happened. The person who said the nasty thing that ended with me in tears in my boss’s office replied. I didn’t even know she was FB friends with the person I was responding to. And she wrote that my Warm Fuzzy file was a great idea, that she needed to try it. And I had to restrain myself from writing back something to the effect of “you are the bitch that said something nasty that sent me to my boss’s office in tears and made me start my Warm Fuzzy file!”

And then I had another revelation. For several years, I have let this person’s nasty comment hang over me, affect me, and she had no clue. She obviously had forgotten it when I hadn’t. And I thought to myself/berated myself…how can I have let this one person have such power and control over me and how I feel about myself? And that led me to thinking about the other things said to me that have had a similar effect, some of them dating back to when I was a kid. I thought about how the person who said whatever it was has long forgotten it…how it has NO effect on their life whatsoever, so why should I let it have an effect on MINE? I shouldn’t!!

Why can’t my aging memory that makes me forget why I walked upstairs make me forget mean things that were said to me years ago?

Anyway, I felt ridiculous and embarrassed for myself. And I made a pact with myself. The next time I start focusing on some nasty off hand comment that someone made to me years or weeks ago, I’m going to mentally think of my Warm Fuzzy file if I can’t physically look through it. I copied and pasted what I posted to my FB friend into a word document and printed it off. I think I will put a copy of it in my wallet so that when I start letting negative people get me down, I can read what I wrote to her. And hopefully, it will inspire/encourage me to take my own advice.

This post is going to be about a whole lot of nothing. But what's new, most of them are, aren't they?

First of all, it is amazing what a little sunshine and a little retail therapy can do for a person. The sun was shining today, and it was 60 degrees. The sun and warmth was so welcome after the past few crummy rainy cold weeks we have had. I want nothing more than to purge winter from my life, and days like today make it seem like spring really is on it's way. I can't wait to sit out on my porch in the mornings and drink coffee.

I started my "tulip watch" today. Last spring, we planted a whole lot of tulips in the yard. Tony got them at the zoo once they had already bloomed, so I have no idea what color any them are. We planted them in the beds in front of our porch and around the mailbox. I've started checking daily to see how much the little green shoots have grown. You know what they say about a watched pot never boiling...well, a watched tulip doesn't grow. While I would like for them to sprout several inches each day, they don't. How dare them.

Today, I took a picture. And I decided that I am only going to do a tulip check on Fridays from now on. Here is what they look like today:

Onto the next random thing. I normally listen to what my kids call "OLD" music. Not "classic," like I call it, but OLD. As in wow, that was popular HOW many years ago? And you still LIKE it, Mom??? I try to tell them that someday, when they are OLD, they will fondly listen to the music they like now, and their kids will make fun of them the way they make fun of me. I tell them that The Black Eyed Peas will be their Eagles. They don't buy it, they roll their eyes, look at me and say, "who are the Eagles?"

Today, I shocked the heck out of my think-they-are-hip high schoolers. I bought a Katie Perry CD. I never buy CDs. Ever. I can't even remember the last CD I bought because it's been years. I made the mistake of taking my new CD with me when I went to pick up my kids from track practice, and they saw the CD case. And then laughed at me because:

*NO one buys CDs anymore. The truly hip with it people download from iTunes onto their iPods.

*I haven't joined the 21st century yet since I don't own an iPod.

*I bought a Katie Perry CD. Apparently, Katie Perry is not cool among high schoolers. Only middle schoolers. And I am obviously NOT a middle schooler. THANK God.

*My middle schooler laughed because apparently, we have lots of Katie Perry songs on iTunes, she has them on HER iPod, so what a waste of money for me to buy the CD.

*My middle schooler laughed when I reminded her that I do not have an iPod.

Anyway, I bought a Katie Perry CD today. There is a song on it that I love right now. "Firework." It's been on the radio for a while, but I never paid attention to the lyrics, until last Friday when we went to Lauren's basketball banquet. She wore a skirt because I bribed her with money to wear one. She looked so darn cute that I wanted to cry. We arrived at the country club where the banquet was being held, and I couldn't wait to take pictures. She had (or tried to have!) a fit and told me that I was not going to take pictures. And I told her that I WAS going to take pictures, or the money deal was off. So, this is the first picture. She obviously was not happy, she is stiff as a board, her fist is clenched at her hip like she is ready to punch me in the face, she had the fakest smile I've ever seen....but I took a picture anyway.

We went into the main room, and there were jaws dropping. It was sooo funny. We were early, but there were lots of girls and parents there, most of who came up to Lauren to tell her beautiful she looked, and choruses of "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ARE WEARING A SKIRT!!" It was cute, yet embarrassing for her I am sure. But, the girls legs have not been seen poking from a skirt or a dress since she was in 2nd grade.

So what does all THAT have to do with Katie Perry??

By the end of the night, THIS was Lauren, dancing and acting silly with her basketball friends to Katie Perry singing "Firework."

I've heard this song on the radio of course, but I never paid much attention to the words. At the banquet, a mom put together a slide show of pictures from the season with a few popular songs in the background. "Firework" was one of them, and I really listened to the words for the first time. Watching my sweet daughter who is so self conscious and shy at times dancing and singing and acting goofy with her friends to this song truly warmed my heart and brought tears to my eyes. The words to this song are exactly how I want my daughters (well, not just my daughters, but all my kids) to feel about themselves...that they are special and irreplaceable and they need to proudly show off what they have.

I tried to post a link to the video, but it didn't work.

One last random thing...months ago, I posted pictures of books in a dumpster.

And I wrote about my 3 year long project...wellllll....drumroll....after so many months of editing after we thought it was finished, this beautiful book finally went off to the printers today for it's final print. NO more editing, we handed them a copy with NO changes, and said PRINT IT.

Someday soon, I will posting a photo of boxes of this book. I am not the kind of person to brag on myself or pat myself on the back, but wow, this is one of my biggest accomplishments in all of my years at Share. So for once, I am patting myself on the back! Take not because it doesn't happen often.

Onto retail therapy....

I went shopping today to begin looking for an outfit to wear to the Angel Ball. Every other year, I procrastinate, wait until a few days before, can't find what I want, and then buy something I don't really like just to have something to wear. So this year, I started early. And I found something I loved at the first store I went to. I'd look much better in the outfit if I weighed 20 pounds less. Can a person lose 20 pounds in a month?

Here is a sneak preview. Hopefully by the time I wear this outfit, I will look better and post some pictures, but don't hold your breath.

This is all enough for now.

Someday...

I will miss this someday, won't I? Someday,my kids will be grown and gone and I just KNOW I will miss the messy piles of crap they leave in their wake. I WILL I WILL I WILL.

I will.

Is that pile really only from 4 kids? Maybe it's from 4 octopuses considering the number of pairs of shoes.

I have a busy work weekend ahead of me. I've been running around like a maniac today trying to finish up laundry and get things in order since I won't be home much this weekend. But that is still the scene that is right inside my front door. While I really wanted to scream at my family like a crazed pmsing woman in need of some serious drugs...I stopped, took a picture, closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that someday, I will miss this pile of crap my children and husband leave just inside my front door each day.