It was good day.
Find the rest here.
Or better said, “iPhone Photos I Just Took Around the House.”
Couple of Random Craps hitting the Fan this week…
Last night, we grabbed summer’s easiest and quickest toy: the sprinkler. They made a weapon out of it. They made a game out of it. They had pure simple fun for an hour.
This morning, I logged onto CNN.com and saw men carrying children from a school. I saw women looking for their pets. I saw a dazed and injured man sitting in the rubble of his life-long home.
The contrasting images of life are sometimes unbearable. I’m grateful. I’m angry. I fill with happiness for their simple joy. I fill with sadness because others won’t get this joy ever again.
The people need help once again. Dig deep into your own gratitude and donate.
Maybe it’s time for a print sale…
Coop had a doctor’s appointment mid-morning, so I decided it’d be fun for him to skip school all day.
We had a plan. Doc. Library. Park. Lunch. Jeni’s. Grocery. Home.
I’ve had kids long enough to know having a plan is a sure-fire why to jump off a building mid-way through said plan.
But this time, the kids didn’t throw the wrench.
It was my uterus.
I swear to you it’s like I’m carrying a raging lion in my nether region. Yes, this is probably too much info. But we’re all adults. Most of us are women who’ve had their own raging uterus. Let’s all huddle around and hug each other. We put up with way too much from this little bitch.
Cramps that can almost chain you to the couch. Cramps that will stop you from taking a step. Lower back pain that makes you feel 30 years older. Bloat that will cause a waitress to ask, “When are you due, Sweetie.” Rage that will then cause you to rip out the Waitress’ throat Dalton style from Road House. Tears spilled for a hang nail that closely resemble the tears spilt for a dead Grandma.
If you’re lucky, you’re able to hit the couch. You’re able to load up on drugs to ease the pain. If you’re lucky you’ve never had a man say, “So you’re going to blame this on your period?” or “Geez you’re PMS-y.” If you’re lucky, you’re always able to find a tampon. You’ve never ruined your pants/skirt/new undies. You’ve never had to create a make-shift pad out of napkins in a gas station bathroom. If you’re lucky, your periods last 3 days. If you’re lucky you’ve never had clots that resemble mini-placentas. If you’re lucky, you’re clockwork and not guessing the day. If you’re lucky, you always have red wine on hand when your period turns into a raging lion.
If you’re lucky, you’re a man.
Because I can’t write a Period post with Period pictures. I don’t have it in me. I’m not in the mood.
Enjoy some Jeni’s. It helped for a little bit.
Typical eight year-old faces…
Today’s Random Crap is different. I don’t feel like sharing links. Instead, I’m going to share a recent quilt. I have a friend who sends the best cards! A few years ago, I got a “You’re all that and a bag of chips.” I’m pretty sure my Christmas card had “fuck” in it somewhere. A few months ago, I got a box full of dark chocolate eggs and a card that said, “AWKWARD.” There were a ton of bags, so some people might have thought “Awkward” was fitting. But when I opened the card it was full of $20s. Awkward indeed.
But then I read it. She asked and paid for a quilt. My choice. My work. Her quilt.
She had left comments on IG photos about wanting a quilt, but I assumed she was being nice. People say things like that. People are nice. But she shoved money at me and there was no way to refuse. Plus I really do think all houses should have at least one handmade quilt.
I’m not quiet about my non-professional quilts, so I was confident that she would be aware the lines wouldn’t be super straight. But I went to work to create the best possible quilt for her family. I wanted to know her family room colors and her plans for the quilt. There’s a few camera prints in there. We met because of photography, so it’s fitting. Her Scrappy Trip is full of oranges and some hints of teal. I hope I created something that will host backyard picnics, offer comfort from a scary movie, a nice photography background, and a cozy snuggle.
I still love this pattern. I’ve got a much smaller one planned. This one is maybe 70 x 70. It grows and the pattern forms after a bunch of blocks have been created. That pushes me to work on the next block. It works really well with a variety of patterns. But I think a break is in order. No worries, it won’t be my last!
I used to worry a lot about things. What I said. A possible confrontation. The whole argument would play out in my head, but it would never happen in real life. I’d worry about the future plus different scenrios of the future. None of it helped or really mattered as the future in my head never played out. I have lots of opinions on really dumb shit. I used to have more, so I’ve gotten better. People might assume that’s judgmental. I think it’s just having an opinion.** I’m loud about it, so that comes off bad. I gave a shit about a lot of things. I don’t know when it changed or why, but I got back to my roots.
My father taught us well. I don’t give a shit about little things because of him. He has self-esteem oozing out of him. He’s 6’4″ so that’s a ton of self-esteem to walk around. That shadow was long reaching as a child. But it was my Mom that fostered and helped our self-esteem grow. I feel like it was her Mother Mission: to make sure that her children were full up on self-esteem. With my Dad’s gene and my mother’s preaching, I think I was destined to be well stocked in the self-esteem department.
As a kid, good self-esteem means you don’t get into tricky situations. You aren’t spending your high school days doing things so the other kids will like you. There’s a certain amount of that engrained in high school, but good self-esteem means you won’t chase after affection endlessly.
Having good self-esteem is different as an adult. To me, it means you don’t give a shit. You’re comfortable with your You-ness. You aren’t chasing people or trying to be a certain type of Woman/Mom/Artist. Learning, but not chasing someone else. You’re too busy being You. You aren’t doing or saying something because that’s what you should say to appear normal and sweet. You aren’t saying Yes to something when you really need to say No. You’ve got your priorities and if someone thinks those are insane, you don’t give a shit. You just keep moving. Or not moving depending…
We all have things that are important to us. Some lists are very long and others are very short.
Anything that conflicts with my list, I don’t really give a shit about. Anything in that list gets all of my attention and passion. I’m nicer when I’m not trying to please everyone. I think I’m a better wife, mom, and friend when I set boundaries. And I think I’m easier on myself when I screw up. I’m able to move on faster and not stew for days.
Saying, “I don’t give a shit” is really a crass way of saying, I’m comfortable being Me. I think it’s one of the most important things we can teach our children. More important than sports or getting all A’s. I think if I can help my children achieve their own You-ness, I will have 100% succeeded as their mother.
I’m not creating little narcissistic demons. I’m raising children who will be comfortable fighting for what they see is wrong. I’m raising children who won’t play the “Please Like Me” game. I’m raising children who will do what their hearts demands. For now that means I foster their own choices peppered with my own 36 year-old wisdom. In the future it will mean they will make decisions that I know are dumb. And it will mean that I might have to let them stumble. In the future, I might not agree with their opinions, but I want to hear them. Their You-ness isn’t mine and I will have to respect that. In the end, I hope it means I will raise two boys who really give a shit about the important things in life. Because everything else isn’t worth their time.
That’s my Mother Mission.
**I still have way too many opinions on things. I don’t give a shit if that’s bad or judgmental.