How to...

How to end a really shitty day...well, if I'm honest...it's been a really shitty past 10 days or so...

1. Load up the car with the kids, and the stuff you sent the hubby to the store for.

2. Drive to the local beach without telling the kids where they are going.

3. Build a fire, spread out the sand toys and get out the s'mores supplies.

4. Just be.

5. Continue to just be. For a couple hours.

Ending the day like this is HIGHLY recommended for the soul.

{Dana}

An Open Letter to...Myself.

Dear Depressed Dana,
Just because you have thought you're whole life that you CAN do it ALL, doesn't mean you have to continue with this way of thinking.
Sometimes you can't do ANYTHING.
And this is okay.
Get to that place where you can agree with that statement.
Do what you need to get there.
And be okay with it.
Your family loves you, even if it's not the family you started out with, or were born into. You already know that "family of origin" and "family" are two different things.
Embrace that.
Do what you need to gain patience. If that means a mommy "time out", take one. If that means a day of guilt free "doing nothing", take it. Even if that means cancelling a much needed play date or staying inside on a sunny day.
Do what YOU need for a change.
And be okay with it.

Love yourself,
The "Other" Dana.

Notes from the Road: Edition 1

Moose thinks there might be something wrong with this plan.

Revisions

Jeez.

Blogger is on my nerves. Or more accurately, my "blogger" skills are lacking and that is annoying. I am attempting to make some revisions to my personal blog so I can then make some good ones to my Urban Utopia Photography blog. You know, to make it more appealing, user friendly and inviting...maybe then I'll be more apt to update more often. *Sigh.*

So, if you come here and it's busted. It'll be back soon. This blog gets to be my guinea pig.

And I leave you with this:

Because I Suck...

Jeez.

I owe you peeps big time.

Is anyone even there anymore???

I don't blame you if you aren't.

So...to just jump headlong in, I'll just pick up right where I am right now.

Busy.

Busy with life. And decisions. And being okay making them or not making them just yet.

I have been flexing my creative muscles and my shutter finger at the same time.

Laughing at the kids singing their versions of that annoying commercial's jingle "I wear no pants...I wwweeee-aaarr no pants"...the girl sings it pretty standard, but the boy? The boy is usually a different story. So, par for the course he sings it "I wear no sweats. I weeeeaaa---rrr no sweats".

I know.

And just now, I heard him saying in a teasing voice to his sister, something about "poop on you" and "baby poop and baby diapers". Who knows? I'm not even going to ask what that was about, as I am pretty sure I don't want to know.

Let the crazy continue.

And I am relishing every moment.

Also...I'll leave you with this image...this is how most days end around here. Covered in band-aids. This one is from a day spent with fellow photog friends at a local park, and the boy, of course, ATE IT. HARD. There was screaming. As usual.

And "mommy's special band aids".

Opposites Day

Dear McDonald's Patrons:
In an effort to find the positive in things, and possibly be less catty (for a minute at least, what do you want from me?) I want to take a moment to thank you for a few things. I mean, I REALLY want to give you props.

I want to thank those parents who don't allow their children to come over to the table where my three-year-old is trying desperately to not be distracted. Thank you for teaching your brats to keep their hands to themselves and not take his Happy Meal toy...off his tray...at HIS table...after I have asked them twice not to...while giving you dirty looks.
Thank you.

I would like to thank those parents who realize that ragged footy pajamas are not appropriate at lunch time in Playplace on a six-year-old. (Assuming she is six-years-old is being generous, trust me.)
Thank you.

Also, to expand on that gratitude, I will thank the parents who don't then have their generously-six-year-old girl change into actual clothes in the middle of a Playplace that has a bathroom RIGHT THERE. IN THE PLAYPLACE. While she screams that boys will see her naked, and "please mommy, can we just go in the potty".
Thank you.

I want to thank the parents who don't allow their children to literally walk on the 3" wide window sill behind the booth we are sitting at, who subsequently fall down onto the booth we are sitting at and crying for what feels like several minutes while a stranger consoles them until their mother finally realizes where the wailing is coming from and that it is, indeed, her spawn.
Thank you.

I would like to thank the parents who teach their children not to climb the outside fence of the Playplace. You know, the one that says "do not play on fence". Yes, that one. Thank you.

In addition, it is my pleasure to thank those parents who made today's outing the most eventful and interesting hour of my week. Thank you.

Lastly, but certainly not least, I want to thank the parents who follow through on a playdate they set up with a certain three-year-old boy who gets very upset when he is told for three days that his friend will be having lunch with him in Paradise...er...McDonald's... I would also like to thank that same parent for calling to tell me they will not make it to said playdate. A very special thank you for that.


You know...maybe I just shouldn't have gone out in public today.

Smooches,
Buttercupyaya


P.S. that may have been less catty, but the snark? I will always give you a bit o' the snark! You're welcome.

Wordless Wednesday: Preschooler "Present" Style

Building Dendrites

Many years ago, the mom of a close friend of mine introduced me to the term "building dendrites". The way I remember it, we were all playing tennis, and every time I would let out my frustration, pain and anger with a really hard swing, she would cheer and tell me to let it out, as each time I did I was "building dendrites". What I truly got from that moment was that every time I do something that helped me let go of things and do something that made ME feel good, I was "building dendrites".

This weekend, that is exactly what I did.

Our journey started with a minivan chock full of scrapbooking supplies, clothes for two days and well...provisions. We added four women who needed a reboot. Here's a little of what that looks like:

Then we drove a couple hours (that FLEW by), in the rain and pending darkness packing that vehicle with laughter, stories and more laughter, to discover that the next two days of unseasonably wonderful weather gave us this:

With those ingredients, all that is left to do is strengthen the bonds already in place with these wonderful, amazing, caring, lively, energetic, supportive, loving, creative, boisterous and accepting women:

I mean, look, at us!

Don't we look relaxed after two days of just being us?

Talk about "building dendrites"!!!

These women hold a very special place in my heart. For all the sharing, love, stories, experiences and rib-aching-snorting-spitting laughter, I thank them.

I am thankful that in this time in my life, I am able to appreciate them, as well as my family for being supportive enough for me to take a weekend to MYSELF and not feel guilty.

For me, that is as priceless as these women.

Much love...

Oh, and, of course HE came along. The little party crasher.

But it wouldn't be the same without Moose watching over us. (And sneaking into pictures.)

Whole Lotta Silly Goin' On

The boy is KILLING me today.
He has these days where I am pretty sure as his mom, I am the only one that finds him completely hilarious...but then he has days like today where there is no freakin' way I am alone in that feeling.

This morning, he chose to sleep in. Like, REALLY sleep in. I think he woke up about 8:45, as opposed to prior to the butt crack of dawn. Because I helped the Girl flat iron her hair for the first time on her own for school (with her shiny new Christmas present) I was wide awake at 7am. Thinking that he would be up any time, I decided to read in bed with the quiet of my house surrounding me until he did. Little did I know I'd get almost half way through a book before he woke up. It was a nice reprieve from the ordinary, don't get me wrong, but we had placed to BE. Heh.

When he did decide to grace me with his presence he was in a great mood. He was surrounded by that warm-bodied-just-woke-up-snuggle-me-before-it-wears-off goodness. So I did. Then he wanted to "pretend sleeping mommy". I complied, of course, because he is the boss. I was unaware that the pretend snoring was then to be interrupted by the loudest "COCKADOODLEDOOOOOOO" I have ever heard, pointed directly into my innocent ear.
Cute? Yes.
Annoying when it happens SEVEN times? Oh, yes.
That game was over.

It was however, followed by a lot of tickling. As he flipped over on his belly and I squeezed his cute little dinosaur pajama clad butt with one hand, I told him he had a "cute little booty". To which I was dutifully, and seriously, informed that he, and I quote: "am growing and my butt will get bigger and bigger. And my pee pee will get bigger and bigger."
Yeah. Awesome. I got nothin'.

Had enough for one morning? Well, this afternoon wasn't any less funny.
After straightening up the kitchen and getting lunch on the table for his majesty, he got my attention to inform me that I "forgot them ones books". Let me tell you...I didn't see these "books" he was referring to...but as Parent of the Year, I completely avoided the argument (because honestly, I've had enough today) and said "I'll get them later."
To which he replied to himself: "you're killding me mommy. you're just killding me".
And I, again as Parent of the Year, thought to myself: Pot? Meet kettle. But since I didn't say it aloud, I will retain my crown.

And one more little anecdote for you from lunch time:
The Boy: Mommy, I'm all done eating. I'm so so super super fuuuuull. (Please note the drama included in that statement.)
Me: Okay. Take five more bites and you can be done.
The Boy: No, three Mommy. We do three cuz I'm three. (He is right...)
Me: Okay. Three bites.
The Boy (to himself): This is super hard to do. It's so soooo hard to do. Man.
Three bites later..."I'm super super done, mommy."
Me: go wash up.

No, seriously, if it's that much of a battle maybe he actually ISN'T hungry.

And now?? He is hollering from the bathroom like a broken record, "Mom, I went poop. Mom I went poop. Mom, I went poop." Why? Because he doesn't wipe that end by himself yet.

Welcome to life with a Preschooler...all day...every day...and you know what?
I wouldn't trade it for the world.

An "I-Know-You-Missed-Me" Post accompanied by a BONUS Eavesdrop

I know, I know, I know.
I've been MIA and totally ignoring my blog.
There are reasons, people. Lots of them. All of which I'll talk about when I'm ready. I feel sometimes like my contributions lately have mostly been the negative or the inspirational or the struggle my brain goes through while trying to ignore my heart...so I've been away.
But it's okay. I'm okay. And I will most certainly share when I can put my words together in a way I am comfortable.

But!!!!
I do have a funny little "eavesdrop" for you today. It's been awhile, yes? (Blame Facebook...seriously...cuz they are all over there.)

I received a text from a good friend this morning that said:
"Oh my hell! M just asked me if Beast had his birthday yet. I said no. She said so he's still 112, right mom? LMAO"

(M is her 7 year old AWESOME daughter.)

Needless to say (but I will anyway...why do people use that saying if they are just going to say anyway...? hmmm...) I laughed my ass off too. Then proceeded to forward to Beast. Take that. Hahahahahaha.

Enjoy your day!

Wordless Wednesday: Channeling Al Bundy

This Really Is It

Michael Jackson's "Thriller" was the first record (yes, I said record) I ever owned. And I loved it. It was my first music I owned all to myself as well as the first non-country music I fell in love with (I grew up in a "country music" family, I still enjoy it but my horizons are BROAD). I played that record so much it skipped all over the place.

Beast and I caught a matinee of the long awaited Michael Jackson's This Is It yesterday.

And WOW.

While I was moved, I didn't cry as I expected to(yay me!). It just wasn't like "that". It was a wonderful unintentional documentary of the concert series that never came to be. It was a celebration of his talent, work ethic and love for music and showmanship. The film quoted that the This Is It tour consisted of "...an unprecedented 50 sold out shows"...the man really was a King.

(Please forgive the crappy photos, as they were taken inconspicuously with my cell phone!)

This Is It is only playing for a limited time in the theater, so if you get a chance, get in there and see it.

Local Flava!

We have lived in Mukilteo for about six years now. Last year was the first time we even HEARD of the Lighthouse Festival. This year we made sure to go. The whole family had a GREAT time. We walked around the vendor fair for a bit, got some yummy festival food then settled in on the beach to await the fireworks show.

While the Boy has no problem with water of ANY temperature, the Girl wasn't a huge fan of the Puget Sound temperature. The Boy ran in and out of the water until his parents could watch him shiver no more, while the Girl stood pointing and laughing about how cute it all was (her words, not mine, though - there was a large amount of "cute").

The Boy and Beast hung out on the beach while the Girl and I got to witness just what all the Mukilteo high schoolers come to the festival for: karaoke. We laughed and enjoyed and danced around to the horribleness music of the group singers and clapped and whooped with everyone else to the wonderful Whitney Houston impersonator ("Dance with Somebody", anyone? She was GREAT!) who we could not believe was only in high school.

When I took the Boy for a walk to go buy mini-donuts health food just before the fireworks started (and let me just tell you...we got NONE. The trailer lost power. boooo!) a train went by and we missed the first big BOOM because there was no way we were walking away from the view of the train with all my body parts. He practically ripped my arm off when he dug his heels in with excitement. I let him stay and watch for two reasons. 1. The excitement was just SO ADORABLE. and 2. I totally felt bad when he looked up at me about a half hour before, crossed his arms over his chest, harrumphed, and said to me "Mommy. YOU forgot the shmarshmallows". (The last time he was at the beach for fireworks was on 4th of July with s'mores and camping...so really? I can understand the confusion here. That's what we get for setting the expectation, right?? Heh.)

Then we watched all the wonderful fireworks. While the Girl, Beast and I loved it...the Boy was a bit scared still, though he handled it like a pro. What a great way to end the night. I love our little community and can't wait for next year.

Wordless Wednesday AKA The Boy Thinks He's Funny

Here is Where I Start. For Real.

I have found myself doing a lot of soul searching lately. This blog is taking a different voice this time around, so bear with me...or step out now. It's time; I think, to take a different approach...honest and vulnerable. Here is where I get to be incredibly honest with everyone (the like 3 of you out there...), if not for everyone else, then for myself. After all, its my freakin' blog, right? I suppose that means I can say whatever I feel I need to here. I just go into it hoping that my dear internets will be gentle with me. I am not looking for a boost or sympathy, but like mama always said (well, not MY mother, but someone's mother, I'm sure) if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all.
And a special note for my Beast: there are things in this blog I have not been able to say aloud, sometimes its just not that simple; some of these things have just occurred to me, and I need to get them down while I have the courage. I love you.

I am not good at vulnerability; I have discovered it is a learned trait for me, not something that is inherently built in to my personality. Vulnerability is really becoming this repetitive thing in my life. I am uncomfortable being vulnerable. I used to feel it was a weakness, recently I am really discovering how much strength it takes to not be intimidated and to be vulnerable in every aspect of life.

The easiest aspect to talk about is my "hobby", but also my passion. I am looking at being vulnerable in putting myself out there as a professional photographer. I am afraid and intimidated by the criticism I have convinced myself I will receive. However, I think that the time is coming to "shit or get off the pot", as mama would say. I am just very unsure of where to start. I have not been as diligent as I can be in getting this business off the ground. The last couple weeks, and the last couple days in particular, have shown me just how much I want this to become a profession and not just a hobby. I don't want to just be 'that girl who takes pretty pictures', I want to be 'that photographer who is amazing'. Only I can make that happen, and I think it's about time I do. Watch out world...right?

Wow, this next one is a bit harder.
For those who don't know me well, or that I have felt I couldn't say this to: I am dealing with a lot of emotional baggage. I believe all this baggage has led to depression. No, I am not getting medical attention for it...yet. I am dealing with it with therapy and a 12 step program. The good news? It's working. The bad news? It requires a fucking lot of honesty, commitment, hard work and (ugh! there's that word again!) vulnerability. If you aren't sure how I feel about that, start over at the top of this blog. Ha!
Phew, it feels good to get that out "officially".

The last couple weeks have really held some important milestones in my life. I celebrated my one year in therapy. I also celebrated my first CoDA Birthday. If you are thinking "WTF is CoDA", go to http://www.coda.org/, it's too much to explain it here, in this blog entry that is probably too long already (maybe next time). Are you still reading?? Good.

Beast and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary as well as our "together" anniversary. (What do you call that one, by the way? "Together" sounds weird...help me out here...or don't. Whateves.) I had been really tense the few weeks prior to our anniversary. I had nightmares; horrible, tear inducing nightmares. I had crying jags and deep, deep depression followed with a ton of insomnia that caused me to be distant, bitchy, emotional - among other things. So, I started to force myself to think. Think about why; delve into that deep dark well of hurt in my head and figure out what the fuck was wrong with me.

Then I hit a brick wall.
It finally hit me in a moment of clarity that for the last four years I have been waiting. Waiting for something awful to happen. Waiting for Beast to be sick of me. Waiting to fail. Let me explain, as I'm leery that I may have lost you there for a moment. I was married before Beast. I was young, I thought I was doing the right thing, I was very unhappy. That marriage lasted just under four years. So, you see, this anniversary meant something to me subconsciously. I didn't realize it, but I was looking forward to that day. I was looking forward to proving I could do it, that I wasn't a failure, that I can be a good wife, mother, etc. And somehow, I convinced my subconscious that making it to this four year milestone was the way to do just that. It would prove I wasn't a failure, that I was 'fixed', that I can be "lovable and loving and loved". When Beast and I were arguing the day before, I got petrified. My imagination ran away with me, those terrible voices in my head had a FIELD DAY with my emotions, hence the mind numbing nightmares. I realize and know that it is unfair to me, to Beast, to US to compare the two. I am not the same girl I was back then, he's not him. And while I know all this, I still feel like I have something to prove. So, there that is...I don't really know what else to say about all of that right now, but there you have it, me in all my honesty and vulnerability.

What else is left to say right now, except...thank you for listening...? (and I am really afraid to hit "publish post"...but if I don't, what is the point?) Here I go.

Multiple Uses, Apparently

Picture this little conversation with the Boy:

Boy (excitedly pointing at the wall in the living room): Woook! (3 year old for 'look') What's that???
Me (pretty disinterested): a bug
Boy (getting more and more excited): No! Its a spider.
Me (still not that interested - it was pretty far away): oh.
Boy (approaching manic): GET IT!!!!
Me: I can't reach it.
*Which was a total lie. I was just too lazy to get my bum up off the couch to get it at that very moment.
Boy (a light bulb suddenly appearing above his head): I help you.
*And then he disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom. I turned to the Girl and we conspired that he was going to get his potty stool for me to reach the spider. To our surprise he walked out of the bathroom with the plunger. To which the Girl broke into hysterical laughter, all the while explaining that is what the Beast used to get a spider out of his reach recently.

Interesting.

And now I know that plungers can be used for more things than merely making the poop go down the toilet on a bad day.

Good to know, right?

You're welcome.

Ode to Neosporin

Let me just go on the record before I tell this story, that in no way have I EVER alluded to the following actions as a "good idea".

I got home late one night (and by 'late' I mean, the kids were already in bed) a couple weeks ago and Beast informed me that the Girl had a horrendous case of chapped lips. He proceeded to tell me that between the two of them they couldn't find a single stick of Chapstick in the house (unbelievable!)

He tells me, there is no need for me to worry...he had it all under control. When I asked how, he informed me that he had her put Neosporin ON. HER. LIPS. (yes, that deserved caps!)

It seems the absolutely horrified, disbelieving look on my face accompanied by the AWE AND AMAZEMENT that this could actually have happened, followed by the suggestion that maybe Vaseline would have been a much better idea, followed by the WHAT ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT SHIT IS POISONOUS spewing from my dropped jaw, was sufficient enough to get him off the couch and into a full-on sprint up the stairs to have her wipe it off.

And THEN? The whole scenario gets ridiculous.

He comes back downstairs laughing hysterically, holding his ribs from all the hysterical laughing...and informs me that when he went in her room, warm washcloth in hand, and attempted to wake her to wipe it off -- she licked her lips, looked up at him and groggily said "huh?" At which point, he figured the damage had already been done, came back down the stairs and made me almost wet myself from all the hysterical laughing.

Now, rewind to about two weeks before this when I cleaned out the medicine cabinet and discovered that we are now OUT of most things, Neosporin being one of them. So, while he was upstairs preparing for the hysterical laughter after attempting to have her wipe it OFF HER LIPS, I was downstairs thinking things along of the lines of "hmm...wonder where he got the Neopsorin".

Then? He gave me the tube of Neosporin.
That says "if ingested call poison control immediately".
That expired in October.
Of 2007.

More disbelieving laughter ensued. From both of the best parents IN. THE. WORLD.
Followed by threats of him finding his story here.

I am thinking this post should have been titled: "Neopsorin is NOT a Substitute for Chapstick".

PINECONES ARE AWESOME!!!!

Can I get a "What, what?"

I know...very random.
I am just so excited!!!
Brand spanking new spring green Dell Fabulous Laptop arrived via FedEx today. I am on it now. This very moment.
How. Wonderful.
And freeing! Wow.

Now if I could just get used to all the fancy schmancy buttons, gadgets and lack of a mouse...

Searching for Serenity

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change;
Courage to change the things I can
And wisdom to know the difference.

This, in all it's wisdom, is truly my saving grace.