Showing posts with label WalMart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WalMart. Show all posts

Friday, April 27, 2012

FORTY?!

For some reason, making lists of forty things to do by the time you are forty is a thing now. Maybe it has always been a thing, but I didn't notice because I was never this close to forty before now. And by "this close" I mean TODAY. Yes, I am forty. Which I suppose is better than the alternative (NOT being here to "celebrate" this milestone). I thought of so many ways to prepare for this BIG day--I was going to LOSE forty [pounds] by forty. I was going to go to forty fun places by the time I turned forty. I was going to write forty letters to forty friends by the time I turned forty. I was going to do forty "random" acts of kindness by forty...I guess I did that one to some degree, but it wasn't very official, and it wasn't in the name of turning forty. I wanted to follow the lead of Robyn Bomar who created The Birthday Project the year that she turned forty. It seems that forty came a bit quicker than I'd anticipated. Everything always does!

If you never checked out The Birthday Project, you really should. This woman wanted to make a difference, so she and her family got together this list of things that they could do for others and she wanted to complete these things before she turned forty. Not only did she complete HER list, she turned these random acts of kindness into an entire movement of people who are randomly acting kind. She is truly an inspiration. I wrote about how I try to do random acts of kindness every day and how The Birthday Project inspired the 12 random Acts of Christmas, and I do try to just be a (fairly) good person, but what in the name of turning forty did I do in the name of turning forty? I guess you could say that I GAINED forty [pounds] (instead of losing forty...*sigh* My metabolism didn't get the right message. It NEVER does). Oh--and I've probably had forty things go wrong with my body (shingles, weight gain, fibromyalgia, migraines (I think I had forty of those just last month!), hypothyroid, Sjogren's, esophogial tightening(?!), hearing loss, arthritis, scoliosis, SHRINKING...I am totally that crazy lady at the park. You remember her--she would stand and watch the kids play and whine about her corns acting up again while she listed at LEAST forty things that were wrong with her. I think God is paying me back for laughing at that lady by making me INTO that lady. Well played, God. Well. Played.)

So we get the point that my forty...accomplishments...are not as much accomplishments as they are...sucky things going on with my broken body. At least it's SOMETHING, right?! I really need to quit whining--I promise you that I didn't mean to make this into a whine festival (HA--WHINE festival--I am pretty funny, right?! Wrong?! Oh...), I just wanted to figure out what (if anything) I did to prepare for this big day and the answer was a little disheartening. Or was it?

 I DID give up sugar (and dairy and gluten ) for a while and I am still trying to limit those things in my diet and to increase my lean proteins and green leafy veggies. I am trying to eat throughout the day, something that (believe it or not) I hate doing because eating is an event for me--something that I truly enjoy, but only when I do it with others. I love the idea of "lunching" with a friend or family member and I find it time consuming and wasteful to cook something and then to sit down to eat it alone. I figure, why bother? Don't get me wrong--I have had those hide-in-the-parking lot-with-my-Heath-bar-moments and work through a half gallon of Ben & Jerry's ice cream therapy sessions, but for the most part, I need to eat with others. I am working on that. I also make sure that I hit the gym at least three times a week and walk at least twice a week. By "hit" the gym, I actually MEAN work out--whether it is in a strength training class or doing the weight machines and the treadmill and by "walking" I don't mean to the fridge. I mean brisk (not crazy-fast-can't-see-her-through-the-dust-like-my-crazy-fast-Auntie-JoAnne) two or three mile walk for exercise with my friend (and motivator) Beth. I have tried to be forty times nicer to my husband and children (though I think you know that the whole "forty times" is a big fat lie, but I AM trying to be nicer, so why can't it be forty times as nice?) and since my house looks like it has been ransacked, I am CERTAIN that I could find AT LEAST forty things to do in it to make it more livable today. Over forty people have already sent me warm wishes on facebook (LOVE fb on my birthday!) and I spent forty dollars on herbs yesterday. HAPPY FORTIETH TO ME!

Sidebar: I WANT to be a gardener. Just like I WANT to be a runner. These are two things I have ALWAYS wanted to do. I remember talking to my uncle (who was a runner his whole life) about driving by people running at like five in the morning and thinking, "I want to be the type of person who WANTS to get up to run at five in the morning..." but it just isn't in me. I remember him telling me that it COULD be me if I wanted it to be me. "Just run for as long as you can, then walk whenever you have to," he told me before we took off for Delaware Park in Buffalo, New York for my first (and quite possibly ONLY) training session. There are no words to describe how ridiculous I was on this day. I was so thrilled to spend the day at DP with my uncle, but it was still dark out, I could see my breath (I don't remember what month it was, but considering we were in Buffalo, it could have been ANY month if it was that cold!), and I had to stop no fewer than...that's right...forty times. In my defense, I had (and HAVE) a hard time running because I have disgustingly large breasts. I'm sorry if this embarrasses you--imagine how it makes ME feel--but it's the truth.  They don't MAKE a sports bra that can harness the ladies, and even before children it was hard to keep them contained. The fact that it was painful to run was only part of the problem--I was MORTIFIED by the jiggling and shaking. It only got worse when the rest of my body caught up to them. No one wants to see all of that shaking--NO ONE. I'm pretty sure that if someone decided to chase me, I would simply stop and roll into the fetal position because A. I have no desire to run (he would eventually catch me anyway, so why spend my last moments RUNNING?!) and 2. He obviously wants whatever he is after more than I do, so why fight it?


So back to the gardening. The only thing I hate more than running is gardening, yet, like running, I desperately WANT to want to do it. The idea of growing my own veggies makes me happier than I can express, yet I LOATHE weeding. And tilling. And waiting. So every year...well...almost every year...since we bought our first house, I have tried to grow some form of food for our family. The first year in our first home we made this ENORMOUS vegetable garden. It was AWESOME. Only the sunflowers that I had lining the back of the garden grew taller that the trees and were a little scary as they tipped over and enveloped the rest of the garden. I had crazy amounts of squash and zucchini, a few peppers--three different kinds and maybe some cucumbers. Oh--and I had a separate container of cherry tomatoes. I think that was all. The winter came and I did NOTHING to maintain or take care of the garden. The next year I had zucchini and squash. I also had (and maintained) a basil barrel and an herb barrel. I LOVE having my own herbs. LOVE it. The amount of money and time I put into those things was paramount, but it didn't stop me from repeating the behavior when we built our new house. I had a basil and herb barrel from the beginning, but didn't try to do veggies until our last year in the house. I learned a little from the first time in that I didn't make it fancy and spend a lot of time on the cosmetics of it all, nor did I start from seeds and plant EVERY SEED KNOWN TO MAN like I did the first time. I also refrained from planting sunflowers remembering that they are great in theory, scary in practice.

My efforts this time were rewarded with a very little bit of lettuce and spinach, maybe a half a dozen zucchini and squash, a pepper and...not much else. I also got one of those easy strawberry kits and ended up with nothing. No tomatoes. It was NOT a good year for fruits and veggies for me (even after my oh-so-kind neighbors put a little fence around the garden to keep out the bunnies), but that didn't stop me. When we moved, I had to give away my basil barrel and my other herb barrel and I was devastated. Yes--devastated.  I'm pretty sure that I would have given at least one of the barrels my husband's seat if I hadn't been too tired to drive. Hindsight...

Anyway...I didn't have the nerve to try my hand at gardening again until yesterday. We moved out of our house in October of 2008 and I have not planted anything (even in MONTANA and EVERYONE gardens in MONTANA!) since then. Sad. Of course, I am the WORST gardener ever (I know--we covered that), so I use the whole "sad" thing loosely. When I walk by all of the veggies and herbs at Home Depot, ShopRite, and WalMart, it seems like such an easy (and practical) thing to do. Also, when I read posts by other friends who garden (or are farmers like You Know it Happens at Your House too) I think, "Surely I can do that..." and spend $4O on veggies, soil, and pots that I am pretty sure I am going to kill/and/or/give away before they yield any actual food or herbs. This time it will be different. This time I will really take care of it. This time I will make up the money in the food that I will grow for my family. This time I am calling it my FORTIETH birthday present, so when IF I fail, I can tell myself (and anyone who judges me) that I paid for the EXPERIENCE of gardening on my birthday--not for the food that never came.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

My life as an Examiner

So I started writing for The Examiner in November and I have NO IDEA what I am doing. I really had fun writing the first few articles, but I did not follow the directions I was given and no one seemed to care. I guess I should be happy about that...but I'm not. I don't like not having any guidance or feedback. Maybe all of YOU can sign up and we can get through this together. Sort of an Examiner support group or something. Be sure to enter http://exm.nr/AacmA7 so that they know I sent you!
Check out my articles at http://www.examiner.com/user-justanothertiredmommy: [Will Muppets make a comeback this holiday? Whether it's Walmart or Boscov's, toys are at tantalizing prices this week! Thanksgiving fun that won't expand your waistline. How early is too early? This Holiday Season, Microsoft "Kinects" with gamers.] Please leave some constructive feedback--I NEED it!

Thursday, October 13, 2011

DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH?!

So today it was Brayden's turn. I'm not sure what it was that he was DOING for twenty minutes in his room, but when I went back to see him (for the THIRD time), there he sat, seemingly doing nothing at all. He wasn't making his bed. he wasn't cleaning his room. He wasn't dressed (or GETTING dressed...or even CONTEMPLATING getting dressed, it seemed). He wasn't reading a book, singing a song, writing hate mail to me, picking his nose...he was just sitting, evidently to simply irritate me and send me over the edge. Mission accomplished.

I honestly try (really, I swear) to start off talking with my children in a nice, calm voice...singsong even. By the third time, I look like the bride of Chucky with eyes bulging, nostrils flaring and head contortioning...it isn't pretty. The fact that I'm quite certain my neighbors DOWN THE STREET can hear me in the winter is a problem I'm trying to fix. My fuse seems to get shorter the older I get. Or is it the older THEY get? Either way, it's ugly. I want to patiently wait for my children (and quite honestly, my husband) to do what I ask after I ask them the first or second (or even THIRD...) time, but I feel that MAYBE THEY CANNOT HEAR ME AND SO I HAVE TO YELL. And let's be honest--I usually have to ask TWENTY times before they even THINK about moving. Why do they hate me? I swear it's a conspiracy.

I have friends who very calmly and peacefully interact with their children. Some have children who just automatically do what their mothers/fathers ask them to do. THE FIRST TIME they are asked (or even TOLD) to do it. I swear--I've SEEN it and SOME of you are living it. Secretly we hate you, but don't take offense. I also have friends who ask their children to do things and their children blatantly disregard them--and THEY DON'T CARE! They don't become raving lunatics (like one blog-writer we know), they simply continue on as though nothing happened. HOW?! When three(make that FOUR) people ignore my existance on a regular basis, I start to feel like I'm not even really here. I look around and ask strangers, "You see me, right? I'm not, like a ghost or anything, am I? You're not experiencing a Bruce Willis/Sixth Sense moment with me are you? 'Cause I KINDA feel like I may be a figment of my own imagination..." I often wonder if I'm speaking out loud or if it's only happening in my head. And the longer this..."epidemic'? "condition"? goes on, the more I find that at times I'm really NOT speaking out loud--the line gets grayer with time--and frustration.

It's about significance, really. If none of the people around you find you significant enough to listen to you, you start to feel...well, insignificant! Suddenly you are ranting at mom's groups and exploding at WalMart to the nine-year-old stock boy (seriously--how old DO you have to be to get a work permit these days?) who REALLY wishes you WERE a ghost...And you are yelling. Yelling because you are angry for them not listening to you, yelling because you actually want them to do the thing in question and yelling so that you know you are actually still alive. Okay, so maybe not YOU as much as ME...but you (this time I really mean you!) see where I'm going with this...right? I'm not sure even I see where I'm going with this...no wonder no one listens to me--I don't make any sense! I said I DON'T MAKE ANY SENSE! But you (yes, YOU) already knew that--even BEFORE I started yelling.