Jalapenos In My Pants

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I’m trying to organize my life, but it isn’t working because apparently I don’t have that skill set.

I can organize other things. Work things. School things. My pantry. But life things… not so much.

I’m like an idiot savant. (I’m not even kidding.)

Take for example my phone. I have no idea where it is right now and honestly I’m not too worried about it communication wise. I’m just concerned about the pictures on it that I wanted to use for this blog post so that I could pretend like I’m one of those bloggers that actually has their shit together enough to make you hate me a little. When in reality I’m just planning on using those pictures to distract you from my short comings (if that’s what they are) by wowing you with photos of my amazing garden because that is something I used to suck at but have some how mastered this year.

I shouldn’t have told you my scheme because it turns out my phone wasn’t really needed since I had already posted those pictures on facebook. I had posted them on facebook so that I could show everyone what a wonderful mother I am. You know, watering my garden, playing with bubbles, stuffing home grown jalapenos in my pants…

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It’s beautiful.

But don’t let it fool you. If you look in my house you will see that I have maxi pad “stickers” stuck to various pieces of furniture and a bedroom door that is locked from the inside with no one on the other side to unlock it.

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I’m not sweating it though because I have long mastered the art of jimmying every lock in the house open thanks to YouTube… and Penelope’s penchant for locking doors and then shutting them. (Thank you hoohoohoblin, you have been invaluable to me.)

I was so excited to spend time with my kids this summer but now I’m over it. Teens and Toddlers don’t mix. They’re driving me crazy and that might make me a shitty mom for actually saying it out loud. But you know… it is what it is.

On a daily basis I have to endure a mashup of the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme song and a Spotify Five Seconds of Summer Play list playing in the same room at the same time. All the while both of my kids are talking to me at the same time about two different things (Penelope: “I want milk! Mom, I want milk! Mom, Mom, Mommmmmy! I want milk!” Bridget: “Chemical Romance’s concert tickets are only fifty dollars… I want to get my nose pierced. Izzi said it would be cool…”

Then I will have to tell Penelope that no she can not stick her finger in the pencil sharpener while I pour her milk (too late… shit where are the bandaids?) and Bridget that no she can not wear those shorts to Izzi’s house (because they look like underwear) and both of my children will simultaneously let me know how displeased they are with me in their differing but equally annoying ways (Penelope: “Mommy I don’t like you. Go away.” Bridget: huffy-breathsullen-glance-eye-roll-silence).

I can’t take it anymore.

Honestly, I just want a moment to hang out with me. Just a moment. It could even be in the bathroom… pooping… without someone talking to me through the door crack.  Or maybe even just a conversation… talking in the mirror and enjoying how hilarious we are together, the reflection and I. We’ll ignore the sounds of my children as they waft under the door, toddler whining and teen whining so alike yet so different, and we’ll just spend some time together. Me and I looking into each others eyes and not at the blonde mustache that seems to gleam on my face now that I have a tan. ( I should really get that thing waxed.)

We’ll just. Be.

It’s my dream vacation.

Yet, at the same time I feel so guilty about it. I’m coming to terms with the fact that summer is almost over (teacher standards). I have to pay attention to emails again and plan lessons again and move classrooms again. And I’m really excited about it and yet I feel bad for welcoming it. I have less than a month left before I have to go back to work for good, and a stark realization has hit me…

I haven’t done any of that healthy stuff for me that I had planned on doing over the summer, aside from the occasional vagina killing class spin class, a few sessions of yoga and a salad. Instead, I got lost in the art of taking care of my kids.

Weight loss has not been a priority because honestly I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want to commit to it. I wanted to just hang out with my kids. I was busy not having a schedule and committed to being non-committal. Then there was also that whole business of me not hating myself enough to create an urgent need for a whole “Overhaul Yourself” Campaign. Because let’s face it, those are usually triggered during times of self-loathing.

Unfortunately, this summer I’ve been pretty okay with myself. Don’t get me wrong, I am seriously flawed but I am TOTALLY okay with that… and that makes it really hard to find the motivation for any kind of self-growth.

I’m not sure that’s a good thing. In fact I’m pretty sure that’s arrested development.

I’m developmentally arrested due to my high self-esteem. 

What the hell does that even mean?  <—- (That’s not a rhetorical question.)

But I guess the time has come, before I know it another school year will be upon me and along with it other stresses. I needed to mentally get to a good place. I’ve done that and now it’s time to get there physically. That requires, organization… which also requires communication… which means, I might need to find my phone.

Where is that damn thing?

That leaves me with the ultimate debate…

Should I get up and look for my phone some more OR I should watch another episode of Girls because it’s too inappropriate to watch with kids around and I’ve finally found myself alone in the house during a time of the day that isn’t meant for sleeping?

You know what they say…

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Yeah, I know! I know that’s not what they meant… but I’ll take what I can get.

Typed While Snacking on Graham Crackers

Is it really Friday already? Where did the week go?

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We spent our Fourth of July in Breckenridge with family from out of town. Normally we just drive up for the parade and head back in the same day, but this time we all rented out condos and stayed for the weekend. Our first stop was at the fire station so that we could go on bucket rides on the ladder truck. (Perks of being married to a fire fighter.)

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We spent the rest of the weekend participating in the parade/ Independence day festivities…

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… and just simply enjoying the mountain town atmosphere and each other’s company.

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(Oh yeah, and the bubbles… you’re never too old for bubbles.)

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Unfortunately, Penelope came down with a fever and ended up puking all over our bed during our stay. By the time Monday rolled around the rest of us were coming down with Penelope’s cold. Our out of town family had already left so the girls and I dropped Brent off at work before having a breakfast picnic and heading back down the mountain.

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As we made our way down we descended into gloomy rainy weather that didn’t let up for three days solid.

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The temperatures were in the 60’s but it was a welcome reprieve since we all fell victim to Penelope’s cold. Soup was on the menu and snuggling/Netflix was the only thing on the agenda. With the weather being crappy I didn’t feel too guilty about it. When the clouds finally parted I made my way to the garden to see how it had faired while we were gone and was surprised to see that it had grown a ton in just a few short days!

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This is perfect timing because after enjoying all of the holiday fair my body was craving something straight from the ground.

(Typed while snacking on graham crackers.)

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I’m such a hypocrite…

It’s okay though, because I can feel my arm muscles twitch every time I shovel a cracker into my mouth due to an unusually hard yoga class in which I almost suffocated in my own boobs. But that’s a story for another day…

That One Dimple

Insecurity… it’s a weird thing.

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The other day I was at the pool with Penelope in all of my glory eating Cheetos. Yes, Cheetos. (Lack of weight loss Mystery solved.) It was rest period and I was sitting on my damp towel in a less than flattering position crunching on my snack when I decided to take the opportunity to people watch.

Watching half-naked people in a public setting could very well be one of the most interesting social experiments you can conduct. You can tell a lot about a person by how they behave in their bathing suit… the way they pull at their suits, the positions they insist on lounging in, the way they hunch their shoulders or arch their backs… very telling indeed.

But the thing that stood out to me the most was the universal fact that nobody really cares how YOU look in your bathing suit. Pool patrons are mostly just concerned about how THEY look. Nobody is looking at you and judging you. In fact, people probably appreciate you more if they look better than you do. Because let’s be honest, we’re all a little bit self-centered like that.

Later the whistle was blown and it was time to get back into the pool. I sat in the shallow end with Penelope within earshot of a gaggle of women, all of whom looked fantastic in their bikinis. I was wearing my sunglasses and was secretly scoping them out. Divying up which of their body parts I wish I had… I’ll take her boobs, her butt, and her flat abs. As I was admiring these women I could hear them talking among themselves. The conversation turned to insecurities. “Ugh I hate the cellulite on my butt. I have this ONE dimple that doesn’t go away no matter how many squats I do.”

I decided to check it out. Sure enough she had a dimple. I hadn’t noticed because I was too busy admiring her stomach from where I was sitting. Then I thought about it some more and it dawned on me that we all have insecurities because we are all imperfect. It’s how we approach those imperfections that determines how insecure you are.

It was a shame that lady had such a rocking body but she couldn’t enjoy it because she couldn’t see past that one flaw. Then I looked at myself and all of the things that bother me about myself and I decided that the same rules applied to me as well. Later that day I decided to go shopping for some summer clothes. I’ve been avoiding it because I’ve gained a little weight since last summer.

 

So far, for the majority of the summer I’ve been feeling pretty good in my skin. Then I went shopping and couldn’t find anything that fit right and BAM! I turned into an epic asshole to myself. I talked myself down and convinced myself that there was no use in trying to shop anymore because nothing would fit. (Apparently I wasn’t only an asshole but the middle school bully version of myself as well because I was pretty dramatic about it.)

This only lasted for a day because realized I was being stupid. So I went back to doing my summer thang…

Gardening…

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Bike Riding…

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Having picnics at the park…

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Writing…

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Waking up early to go running…

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Picking flowers…

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and eating yummy food…

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It didn’t take long to feel better about myself.

Insecurity ebbs and flows. Somedays I could give a shit what people think of me because I think I’m pretty great. Then I’ll be a complete asshole to myself and talk myself down.

Throughout writing this blog I have discovered that there is something empowering about not giving in to the urge of talking down to yourself. I find that time is much better spent simply enjoying where you are in the moment… flaws and all.