O Toddler! My Toddler!

No human being, aside from the toddler, is as equally needy as they are independent. These tiny little dictators rule your world from morning until night with their odd tantrums, their puzzling requirements and their Jedi mind tricks. If this phase wasn't a fairly short stint between "baby" and "school-aged kid", parents everywhere would be spending some time in the psych ward.

The toddler is a special kind of special.  One minute they are all smiles and the next they are throwing themselves on the ground because it was their turn to put the stickers on the happy meal toy.  Oh yeah, that totally happened just the other day. Or they are soooooo thirsty for that cup of milk that they must have it NOW! And then you get it for them, so as to avoid a meltdown and shocker, they don't want it anymore! It doesn't end there with the toddler. They want to watch their tv show, while they simultaneously take all of the pillows off of the couch and create a fort. But as soon as you change the tv because clearly they weren't watching- "I was watching that!" (enter tantrum)

And sometimes this happens - "I want to watch Paw Patrol." To which I reply, "Sorry buddy, Paw Patrol isn't on now." "Why?" "I don't know, I'm not the program director for Nick Jr." (enter tantrum) Now I know I could probably find it on YouTube or through the On Demand menu, but hey, I didn't have that when I was a kid! And I also sat through commercials, so get it together toddler! See, I can play his little game too. And besides, you know it's fun sometimes to mess with them since they spend so much time messing with you!

These cuteness wielding hell-raisers love to mess with you. They really do it for fun. I believe they get joy out of watching their parents get worked up. Taunting us with their cuteness as they proceed to mush cupcake in their freshly washed hair. Or doing something you told them explicitly not to do 100 times prior, while they look you right in the eye and do it. Oh they love that one!

And let's talk about the repetition factor, which really is synonymous with the toddler. If you have a toddler then you have heard the same question, the same request, the same song stated/sung/yelled  over and over and over again. Or if you're a mom, you've definitely heard your "name" said in 10 different ways for 10 minutes straight. I've contemplated just having him call me Beth. But I'm sure he'd find a way to beat that to death too, but "mom" he just abuses. Momma. Mom. Mommy. Mooooommmmyyyyy!!! Ugh. It's exhausting.

 And then this mini juxtaposition of angel and devil, when you tuck them in at night, manages to make up for all (ok most, ok some) of their shitty little toddler ways. Their need to hug and kiss you more times than is necessary, while probably a tactic to avoid sleep, gets you every time. Those puckered lips and that need to give you a big hug and a kiss, a little hug and a kiss, maybe even a Valentine hug and kiss or my favorite, the Hulk hug and kiss. It makes up for the craziness of the day. And it sets you up for tomorrow. And for more yelling, timeouts, tantrums and tests of will and patience. Oh how I love my sweet, sweet toddler monster.

 Peace. Love. And sanity. (which you're going to need to keep a death grip on with a toddler)

Why the hell did I sign up for a Spartan Race?

This is a question I continue to ask myself since I signed up two weeks ago. What the hell was I thinking? I'm not an athlete. I'm not an adventure seeker. I like wine. And my couch. I like the basics, remember?

 But maybe that's not true? I have no idea. So since I've signed up I've been really thinking about why I'm doing this. Am I crazy? Am I fooling myself about my abilities? I'm currently listening to (yes listening, what's reading?) the book Spartan Up by Joe De Sena, the founder of the Spartan Race. He goes through lists including: foods to eat, what makes you a Spartan, how to become a Spartan, etc. So I thought I would go through my own list. Put it out there. Make my commitment. Convince myself that yeah, you can do this. Maybe.

 1 – My husband: He is in love with this stuff. He’s going for his trifecta this year, which is three crazy ass Spartan races (Sprint, Super, and Beast) that continue to increase in difficulty, and he’ll do it no doubt. So when he asked me to do the Spartan Sprint with him, at first I laughed. And then I thought about it, consulted a friend and took the plunge. Well, I didn’t, my husband signed me up and I got the email. You’re registered! I know what you’re thinking – “How cute. You guys want to swim through mud and jump over fire together. How adorable.”

2 – Am I more than the sum of what I do every day? As mother, wife and worker, is there something else I can do solely for me by me?  Don’t get me wrong I love being those things. Those all give me fulfillment in different ways, but this would be all about me. Can I do something for me that is all me? Is doing something like this just for myself motivating enough?

3 – Making a commitment. So apparently the first step to making the commitment to do the race is to sign up. Check! I have that part done.  But I’m wishy washy. In my history of dieting and working out, if someone says, “Hey, you’re looking good,” my next step is to reward myself with a pizza. Hey, I earned it! Ridiculous right? In making the commitment to do this race, I know I cannot do that. Someone like me cannot be fueled by pizza and finish this race. I will need to stick with my workouts and my nutritional plan to get this done - to kick some ass.

4 – Monotony. If there were medals given out for most accomplished in dealing with monotony, I would win. The phrase “same shit, different day” is not lost on me. Not by a long shot. Not by many of us right? And again, I love my life, and know routine is necessary but I’ll be damned if I don’t need something like this to shake me up a bit.

5 – People are masochists. Am I wrong here? I say this often. I believe it. And my example is always hot wings. It’s silly but it’s true. People eat hot wings, love hot wings, but they make their eyes tear their noses run and they continue to eat them. And they keep ratcheting up the heat level. People like some pain. So here is proof of my own masochism. I can’t wait to put myself through some torture.

6 – To feel like a badass. This one is self-explanatory. When I finished the much less taxing Dirty Girl Mud Run, I felt great. I felt accomplished. I felt a bit of a high in completing something I had never done before. I want that feeling again.  

And there's my list. Those are my reasons. And at the end of the day maybe I can't make all of the obstacles. Maybe I fall off of those monkey bars and am forced to do more burpees than I deem a human being should ever do. But either way, I'll be giving it my best damn shot. In my quest for badassery, I will get to the end.  One way or another.

Holy crap, was that some optimism and positive thinking? See, I'm not good at that so I don't even know it when it happens.

Oh, and if you’d like you join our team in the quest for your own badassery, feel free to reach out and I’ll give you the details.

 Peace. Love. And sanity.

Basically annoying shit that annoys me because it’s annoying

Wow. That was a cringe-worthy title, huh? It turns out that when I abandon most of my vices in search of health and fitness, I become quite cranky and a bit sensitive.  I suppose I should apologize to my husband, since he receives the brunt of my “reformed” ways. But I’m sure I’ll go back to my “normal” ways soon enough. Well, hopefully I’ll be a bit more self-aware by then and learn to practice moderation. What do you mean I can only have one ounce of cheese? Screw you.

Seriously though, as I started diet number 764, a new supplement regimen and a fairly badass program at the gym in the last month, I’ve been feeling great. My ills from the holiday season have finally gone and oh look, my pants fit again! All good stuff, right? But along with that came the abandonment of most of my vices – the weekend cocktails, cheese, the foodie “food coma” inducing dinners, and did I mention cheese? And with those magnificent items being on temporary hold, in the name of health, I have found I’m a bit more annoyed by things than usual. Now don’t get me wrong, a lot of shit annoys me. But lately, I’ve been a bit more sensitive as well. Like really girl, put on your big girl panties, suck it up and suffer like the rest of us! So in the name of self-transformation, I’m vocalizing what annoys me in the hopes of a more balanced, less cranky, less sensitive life, or, at least to provide some laughs whether those are with me or at me. I’ll take either at this point.

People : Most people are annoying. It’s just a fact. But not you people. I love all of you. You don’t annoy me in the least.

Kids:  Kids are definitely annoying. They basically live to annoy adults. But they’re also cute, so that balances it out - a little.

Work:  Work is so annoying. And this is mostly because you deal with people. But it pays the bills and sometimes you even find some gratification in it. But if I win the lottery, I will be happily unemployed.

The cold: Ok yeah, we’ve been pretty lucky so far this winter, but sometimes I’m sitting in my house and I’m freezing my ass off. And then I ask myself- “hey dummy, why are you sitting here freezing your ass off when you have the option to use heat?!”  But seriously, I actually sit here sometimes and get angry that I’m cold. Told you - sensitive and cranky.

Douche-baggery: This phenomenon is pervasive in our society. From the guy that smooths his way into line at a concert like a creep, to the person who talks way too long about themselves on a conference call. And they are always fully equipped with stories about how awesome they are. My friends and I have had to coin a special phrase since this phenomenon has become so prevalent. Now, way too often we have to say “DBD” or “Don’t be a douche.” Feel free to use it as needed.

Social media: I have a love hate relationship with this one if I’m being honest. But then if I’m being even more honest, I hate myself because of how much I’m addicted to it. So apparently, I annoy myself.

People who sell items on FB pages for $2: And I’m not talking about a bunch of clothes or something practical, I’m talking about some crap that you can’t imagine ANYONE would buy and then SOMEONE buys it!! For example, a person that recently sold a decorative chicken statue thing on a FB page for $2. And someone scooped that crap up in a hot minute. First of all, no.  And second of all no, no, no. Just no. Stop transferring your crap around. And stop buying other people’s crap. It’s annoying. And yes, people are making fun of you. This was actually a public service announcement. You’re welcome.

So you see people, I’m a bit sensitive and cranky at the moment. But I’m really trying. I’m trying to live a “cleaner” life. I’m actively trying to treat my body better. My brain might be atrophying slightly as a result, but that’s ok, my jeans fit. It’s all going to be ok. And you all just helped me be a little bit better by letting me get it out. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. And in 10 more pounds, I might just turn into an optimist. Ha, yeah right.

Thank you for your time.

Peace. Love. And sanity.

The best damn mom

On February 2^nd 2010, I became a mom without a mom. From that day forward I wouldn’t have the benefit of learning how to be a mom from my own mom, who was one of the best. And while I have always known how important this “mom” figure was in my own life, and how lucky I was to have the mom I did, nothing made it more evident than when I had to be a mom, on my own. When I had to look into the face of my then 8 month old daughter and tell her that I was going to try and be the best damn mom I could because I had one of the best damn moms there ever was.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve failed at the task of being the “best damn mom.” I am still taken aback by the fact that there are two little humans out there who, on many occasions, only want me. Me!? This is what it means to be a mom. You are that person. Their go to. And even though I was that way with my mom, it was, and still is very strange that I am the go to person for them. How am I your go to person? Sometimes I’m still that little girl that needs help from her mom. So how can I be a good mom for you?

I struggle with questions I would want to ask her about being a mom. For example, did you sometimes think we were the most annoying little beings on the planet? Did we always come to you for milk, water, a band-aid, a snack or really anything, even though Dad was also in the house? How about when we asked why you were throwing out our lovely artwork, which was really just us putting one line on a piece of paper? But I think I know the answer to that because she kept everything.

Do I feel cheated? Hell yes I do. And I feel like my kids got cheated. Of course they were cheated out of an amazing grandma, but also maybe I could be better, do better, if I were able to ask her questions. Maybe I could have more perspective. Maybe I would be able to practice more patience with them. Ok, probably not. But I certainly know I would have at least had some laughs from the stories she would have told. I didn’t get the stories. I was cheated out of the stories.

So the only thing I can do now is remember. I can do my best to remember how she raised us. How she gave us more love than we could handle. How she managed to be a mom and a friend wrapped up into one. How she taught us the importance of family and to always be there for one another. And I think we’ve at least been able to accomplish that. Any maybe one day I will be lucky enough to have my kids say that I am the “best damn mom” there ever was. But from where I sit, I have some really big shoes to fill.

To know that woman was to love her. And I am thankful I was able to call her mom. And I miss her every day.

Thank you for reading.

Live. Laugh. Love.