Last year I popped my BlogHer cherry. I went with my my close friends and we were there for each other to share shoes and do makeup and hair and in general ease the fears of our own insecurities. Or rather, they eased mine. (They don’t know a lot of bloggers so it was, “Hu, who’s that again? Who’s Isabell?” and I whisper “She’s kinda a big deal”)
Because I am… well… me, I do things in a Flinger sort of a way. Let’s recap the top five... Read more
Sometimes I have The Ugly. The Ugly tends to show up when I’m emotional, irrational, bloated, tired or overwhelmed. The Ugly can start from anything: a facebook update, a tweet, a post, a real life jab.
The Ugly? It sucks.
It sucks out my happiness, my joy, my security, my stamina, my confidence. It reduces a good, healthy, happy 33 year old woman in to a 15 year old girl with zits and generic jeans.
The Ugly, it is bad.
I often recognize The Ugly as just what it is: Ugly. I see it from my place of confidence and can see through its irrationality. But... Read more
Whatever issues I’ve had with facebook, and I have, are gone today. Suddenly today I saw the most amazing use of facebook and I’m thankful over and over for it.
I’ve mentioned my friend Amy who’s breast cancer took us from her family and friends entirely too early. It hit home too close and too hard for me. It was hard.
I was unable to make it to her memorial here in town. I was sad for that fact but I forgave myself because I knew I would’ve lost my shit if I’d gone. I mean The Big Ugly Crying.
But the community that Amy created... Read more
I walked by a glowing extremely pregnant woman. Her friend handed her a bag with some baby booty in it. I chuckled. I couldn’t help myself. I CHUCKLED. They looked up at me and I recovered, smiled, and continued on my way.
In my head I was picturing what the card would say. I chuckled again. It could be any of the following:
Outside: Congrats New Momma! You’re going to spend the next five years trying to get your pre-baby body back!
Inside: Good luck with that.
It’s 2:45AM. I’ve been asleep for two hours. I hear the familiar call from a tiny man, “Mommy! Mommy!’ I’m in his room before I open my eyes.
I get him milk, his Thomas Trains and put him back to bed.
It’s 6:00 AM and I hear the familiar call from a tiny man, “Mommy! Mommy!” I’m in his room before I open my eyes.
I pick him up hoping to give his sister a few more minutes of sleep. He asks for milk. I turn to get him some.
He starts screaming.
It’s 7:00 AM and he’s still... Read more
I was thinking about rebelling. Not in a present tense, but rather in a pattern-of-maturity. A “hindsight” if you will. “Enlightened Rebellion” even.
I realized my husband and I were together in High School when most people go through their rebellion. Our friends may have skipped class or chugged beer or started smoking but we were both first-borns too busy pleasing teachers and parents and each other. We were fairly straight laced aside from a few back-seat make-out sessions. We were home on time, we never did drugs and we never got pregnant. We stayed out... Read more
I tend to say yes a lot. This is great for my husband, kids and my clients and horrid for my knees and my canker sores. I say yes before reading the small print. I say yes before asking a ton of questions. I just, you know, like to say yes.
“You want to move to Seattle?” “YES!”
“You think we should by a townhouse that will depreciate in value for the first time in a market since 1984?” “YES!”
“You wanna walk a half marathon with me?” “YES!”
Similar to how dogs smell fear, my youngest child smells ambition. I had a plan, an actual true productive plan, for today. There are massive deadlines hanging over my head, there are bills and invoicing to do, and the regular life maintenance and goals I set daily to work out and eat well. I had it all worked out and it even included swimming in my heart-rate zone for 30 minutes and taking the oldest on time to go to her school field trip.
I had a plan.
As happens every single fucking time I have a plan, my son woke up at 3:30AM and literally yelled this half awake sleep... Read more
I have, what is commonly referred to as, “children who are too smart for their own good.” AKA: Gin and Tonic. Or, rather, GIfted and Talented. (Anyone else automatically have visions of limey goodness with the accronym GnT?)
My children have both been very successful academically. That is to say, they have ROCKED the preschool scene over and over. Colors? They got’em! Letter? All 26! Numbers? Counting to 12! Conceptually adding and subtracting before age four!
Thank you. For wrestling. For Running. For working. For being there.
First Meeting LB