Friday, July 31, 2009

Here's to the Next 60 Years

There was this day four years ago, that started with nerves and excitement, continued with laughter, promises and fun and ended with friends, family, love and magic. Here are some shots from that day that sometimes seem so long ago and other times feels like yesterday. I won't lie and say its all been sunshine, roses and easy street - it has been work that is worth every bit of growth, sweat and tears we have put into it. In my heart I look forward to the next sixty. I wonder if they will fly by just as quickly.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Love Thursday, Naturally

The kids found this little guy in the pool in our backyard. The Girl was so stoked that there was a heart on his head, and was sure to point it out to me right away. She asked me to share it here with you for Love Thursday. Enjoy.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Tuesday Eavesdropping Short aka the Post I Wish had Video

The following conversation happened right next to me after hearing the pitter patter of bare summer little boy feet on the kitchen linoleum.
Boy: Daddy, I want cookie.
Daddy: No cookies right now.
Boy (sounding VERY pathetic): but my tummy wants it.
*Daddy and Mommy laughed at how cute that was, caved and the Boy WON (of course he did) and was rewarded with a very small frosted animal cookie.

Five seconds later, pitter patter of bare summer feet on the kitchen linoleum coming right for us.
Boy: Daddy? My tummy needs 'nother one cookie.
Daddy: No buddy. You have crackers and cheese on the table, eat those.
Boy: Daddy, my tummy neeeeeds it.
Daddy: Ask your tummy if it will eat cheese and crackers.
Boy: no, you ask my tummy.
*The Boy then lifts his shirt, and gestures to his waiting belly button. Daddy complies.
Daddy: Yup, your tummy wants them.
Boy (not convinced): No, Daddy. It doesn't.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Love Thursday

Today, I am working on learning how to love myself.
And not only on Thursdays.

I would *love* to find within me the ability, strength and courage to be happy with myself, confident in my decisions, proud of my progress and content with my image.

Today, I am thankful for the mental clarity to realize that all of these things are solely up to me to convert them into a reality instead of a burning desire. I think I am almost ready.

...almost ready to learn to love myself.

Wordless Wednesday: Bun in the Oven Style

Friday, July 10, 2009

Letting Go (July 7th Edition)

I have shared excerpts from a daily meditation book here before. I don't make a habit of it as I don't feel I need to shove what works for me down everyone's throats.
That said, the entry from a few days ago was so profound, perfectly timed and needed for me at the time that I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Maybe if I share it here, with you, I will be able to accept it a little more...

Getting it all Out
Let yourself have a good gripe session ~ Women, Sex and Addiction, Charlotte Davis Kasl, Ph.D.

Get it out. Go ahead. Get it all out. Once we begin recovery, we may feel like it's not okay to gripe and complain. We may tell ourselves that if we were really working a good program, we wouldn't need to complain.

What does that mean? We won't have feelings? We won't feel overwhelmed? We won't need to blow off steam or work through some not-so-pleasant, not-so-perfect, and not-so-pretty parts of life?

We can let ourselves get our feelings out, take risks, and be vulnerable with others. We don't have to be all put together, all the time. That sounds more like codependency than recovery.
Getting it all out doesn't mean we need to be victims. It doesn't mean we need to revel in our misery, finding status in our martyrdom. It doesn't mean we won't go on to set boundaries. It doesn't mean we won't take care of ourselves.

Sometimes, getting it all out is an essential part of taking care of ourselves. We reach a point of surrender so we can move forward.

Self-disclosure does not mean only quietly reporting our feelings. It means we occasionally take the risk to share our human side - the side with fears, sadness, hurt, rage, unreasonable anger, weariness or lack of faith.

We can let our humanity show. In the process, we give others permission to be human too. "Together" people have their not-so-together moments. Sometimes, falling apart - getting it all out - is how we get put back together.

Today, I will let it all out if I need a release.

~~~The Language of Letting Go, Melodie Beattie

So, there you have it. Now, maybe I can get some peace. I will continue to work hard to not feel bad when I do vent; to accept that my friends are accepting, that when they say it's okay for me to vent, I hope to someday not still feel the need to say "I'm sorry".

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Confessions of an Embarrassed Woman aka The Post that Makes You Say "Blugh"

I discovered something on our camping trip over the holiday. I learned a lesson about thinking before acting. I discovered what...well, let me back up and tell this story in order.

Beast and I decided we would play a game of cards by lantern and campfire light before going to bed. We spent the day on Long Beach with the kids playing in the sand, flying kites, making s'mores and watching amazing fireworks. I sat on the bench and when I moved I felt my pants stick, like I had sat in something sticky. So I stood, touched the back of my pants to figure out what it was and sure enough, there was about a 1/4 inch of something sticky on my pants. I assumed it was residual candy from the Boy having sat in that vicinity earlier in the day enjoying his parade loot.

So I smelled my fingers. Nothing.

Then, since we didn't have running water, I made the big mistake of licking my finger.
I think I was tired.
I think I may have been delirious.
I think I may have just not been thinking.
Really? Was this the best way to clean my hand?
Probably not.

A few minutes later, before sitting back down in anything that might still remain on the seat, I used the lantern to inspect the bench.
This is the moment I realized things had gone horribly wrong.
The ONLY thing on that bench was what looked like bird poop. Yes, bird poop. So, I turned to the Beast and asked if what was on my pants was white.
His only response was hysterical, blinding, pee-inducing laughter.
It was the only answer I needed to make me realize all the other options I had other than LICKING. THE. BIRD. SHIT. OFF. MY. FINGERS.

For the record, bird poop tastes like nothing. Not in the nothing-you-have-ever-tasted-before sense, truly, it tasted like nothing. But still, I was, and still am, incredibly skeeved out.