2015 – The WhiteOut Year–Hopefully.

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Happy new year.

Yeah, I’m about that excited for it as well. But, I have made some goals for this year, anyway.  I’m not calling them resolutions because those are too easy to give up.  No, I’ve made goals.  

Not many.  Not intimidating.  All are accomplishable.  But all need effort.  All require me to keep my eye on each ball.  I think I need that. Come to think of it, that may be the real reason I made the goals.

Sure, I need to save more money.  Of course I need to lose weight and get fit.  And taking more trips to the city are a great way to learn new things and gain more experiences.  But now that I really think about it, I made goals to prove I can.  To prove to myself that though I didn’t come out of the womb “goal oriented or goal centric”, I could learn to go toward them.  So, I made some goals.

One of them is to blog more.  Blog.  What a word.  Did the word even exist 20 years ago? Doubt it. And yet, here it is showing up on a list I created.  It’s a goal, for god’s sake!  Blog. It should keep my mind going, keep the syntaxes…uh…syntaxing.  Good for the brain.

Working out and exercising.  That’s another goal.  Need to do that more.  They say scheduling exercise like a doctor’s appointment is the best way.  Think they say that about writing/blogging too.  Gotta keep all the muscles working.

Travel to Washington D.C. more.  I love that city.  I love the energy, the vibe, the attitude. I love how much you can do for FREE!  I love the history of it.  I live right up the road, but do not take advantage of all the DC options nearly enough.  I need some new adventures.

Save money.  Durrrh!  Who doesn’t need to do that?  But, just because I’ve not been good at it in the past doesn’t mean that I can’t at all.  Just means I haven’t yet.

Wow.  Looking at my goals I  see a pattern.  There is nothing really new here.  They are all things that I should have been doing already.  Didn’t notice it when I was coming up with them.  Just now seeing them in print, I get it.  Maybe that’s what this year will be.  A year of corrections.

Yes, I’ll correct parts of my life by replacing bad habits ( or NO habits) with good ones. This is my WhiteOut year!

Granted  there are other facets of my life  throughout history that I’d like to go back in time and plaster some WhiteOut over and change, but as that’s not possible, I’ll take just going forward from here.  2015 is all new.  No print, no image, no misspellings, no grammatical errors, or errors in judgement.

Ok.  I feel better.  Ready for my goals.  Ready for my corrective year.

2015, I’m coming.

As the clichéd director says, “Once more with feeling.”

Happy New Year!  (Nailed it.)

What Your Costume Says About You…

So Halloween is over.  Time for the masks to come off.  Let’s all be real!!!  (pause for laughter)   Ha.  Yeah, no.  Back to pre-Halloween facades, people.

As a parent, when October comes around, I’ll have friends ask about what my daughters are going to wear Trick-or-Treating.  I’ll answer. And then they’ll ask ME, what I’M going to wear…or more often than not, what I’m going to BE. I usually chuckle and make something up. I stopped trying on Halloween YEARS ago.  But I wonder what that says about me and my life.

This year my oldest decided to be “glow girl”.  Is it a character from a t.v. show or comic?  No.  She, my little artiste, had the idea of black clothes spray painted with glow in the dark paint with glow sticks hot glued on it.  Great idea, but…will it work?   Oh…and WHY that?

Meanwhile, my youngest decides on being a peacock.  (pause for time as I try to figure out my reaction to the news when she told me.)

Honestly, for Iz…I get it.  A peacock is actually the PERFECT choice for her and her personality.  She puts it all out there and is proud and secure and confident in all that she is.  It’s not really scary..except for maybe the intensity, but it is who she is. Ok, done.

Glow girl?  Maybe that is who Soph is as well.  Mostly incognito, indistinguishable from her surroundings except for some really bright and interesting parts SHE decides to highlight.  She’s in control of what you see about her.  Yeah…that works.

So, what about me?  Rip Van Winkle?  Could totally use about 100 years of sleep right now.  Alice in Wonderland?  Waiting to finally get back to the “real” world I envisioned for myself when I was 22?  Bride of Frankenstein?  Frustrated, angry with really bad hair? Naaaa.  I guess my costume is just me.  Comfy pants, a loose shirt, fuzzy slippers.  Yeah, that’s my costume..for now.  And I’m good with that.  Heh, what does that say about me?

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How to Feel…

Keep in mind I am aware I will NEVER be Mother of the Year…ANY year.  And I’m fine with that.  An example is that it took 2 below freezing days for me to finally take my daughters to get new winter coats.  For those two days they wore my old sweatshirts to school (see how I roll?).

With that knowledge, you can imagine their excitement when I started driving the car toward the coat store and acknowledged that they would each get a new coat.  My youngest, Iz, stated flatly that she would be looking for something furry, as it was “all the rage” these days.  (Yes, I’m raising a 1920’s flapper.)  My oldest, Soph, just wanted something warm.

As the escalator rose to the second floor and the coat section, the girls took off toward row upon row of coats–all sizes, all colors, all fabrics, all shapes.  I hung back and just watched to see where I might be needed first.

Soph went immediately to a “double” coat of blue and green.  Her favorite color being blue, this was no surprise and the coat was extremely practical.  One coat for cold days, but if it were REALLY COLD, you’d add the extra layer of the second coat over it.  It fit, she looked good, she was happy, I was happy, done.

I looked up to find Iz and did…2 rows over…at a cheetah print “furry” coat with red “satin” lining.  “Mommy, I love this. Can I try it on?”  I looked at her and then the coat and back at her very expectant and shiny face.

“Sure.  But it doesn’t have a hood and..”  She broke in, ” I know.  It’s not the kind of coat we are looking for.  I just want to see what it looks like on, ok?”

What happened next was a little shocking to me.  So shocking that I almost broke down into tears in the middle of the coat racks.  Iz very carefully and respectfully took the coat off the hanger and gingerly slid one arm into the first arm hole, and then the other and then shrugged it gently onto her shoulders.  She turned to me.  “Oh mommy, this feels wonderful.”

She then started moving toward the full length mirror at the end of the aisle.  But she didn’t walk.  She sauntered–like…Tallulah Bankhead or Bette Davis—certainly NOT like a 10 year old little girl. She stood in front of the mirror and turned this way and that.  And then again.  Striking poses that would put Fashion Week in NYC to shame.  

You could see how she felt in the way she moved, the way her face was lit up.  She felt glamorous.  She felt beautiful.  She felt wonderful.  Then I made her take it off.

Iz sighed and put the coat lovingly back on its hanger and dutifully tried on a burgundy jacket that had a hood, but no red lining and no fur.

“How’s that feel?” I asked, hoping she’d say it was great and she’d really like it instead of the cheetah coat.

“Fine.”  

“Too tight?”  

“No…fine.”

“The hood fits ok?”  

“Yeah…it’s all fine.”

And I just stood there and watched her as she ran the zipper up and down the front and played with the belt of the coat.

She was right.  It was a good coat.  Practical.  Useful.  Just what we came to buy.  It was fine.  But already I missed the look on her face when she wore the cheetah.  And I wanted it back.

“Iz, put that one back and grab the cheetah.”

“Really, mommy?”  In her voice you could hear utter disbelief and awe.  

“Really.  But you’ll have to get a hat, because that doesn’t come with one.”

She fairly jumped over me to get to the cheetah coat and make a run toward the hat and glove section.

I just shook my head, and fought back tears.  

I can’t give my girls everything they want all the time.  That’s not what my life is.  But at those times when I get to see that expression on their faces of pure bliss, I have a sense of longing for the ability to do so.

It is just a cheetah print coat with red “satin” lining.  But the way it made Iz feel was awesome, in the truest sense of the word.

But what really hit me in the situation was that….the feeling Iz feels in that coat…the look on her face….we should all get that more than we do.  In that coat, she’s not just Iz, she’s Isabella the glamorous.  She has the world in her palm and she’s a winner.  

In the car on the way home, the girls were wearing their coats.  Iz had her black gloves on as well and she was sitting with her arms spread outstretched across the car. 

“You know what, Mommy? In this coat,  I feel like I’m so rich, I don’t have to work.”  

Soph and I laughed.  Yeah.  It’s a good coat.

…and so it begins.

“Well, if everyone jumped off a cliff, would you have to?”  I can hear my mother’s voice even now, full of derision and weariness.  She was right.  I don’t have to have my own blog.  But blogging seems a might bit safer than jumping off a cliff….and cheaper than antidepressants.