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.

Fight for your right to...throw MY party...?

I have the BEST friends. Really--I do. I don't know why I have been so lucky to meet and befriend such great people, but I'm happy it continues to be the case. I don't necessarily DESERVE to have these amazing people in my life, but they seem to stick with me no matter how I behave, so I guess I should just be happy and keep my mouth shut. BAHAHAHAHAHA--as if I could EVER keep my mouth shut!


Now that you know how lucky I am to have wonderful friends, I need you to know that I HATE throwing parties (seems unrelated, but bear with me)--HATE--with a BURNING passion. I always buy stuff I don't use either because I forget or because my children "use" whatever it is (party hats, blowhorns, TABLECLOTHS...?!) BEFORE the day of the party. S-T-R-E-S-S. I know some moms who are SO GREAT at throwing parties and who seem to LOVE it. Nary a bead of sweat forms on their brow and they seem to even ENJOY themselves AT the party.  I want to hate them because of my insane jealousy, but instead I admire them and continue to hate parties.

My friend, Tonya is the poster-person for this type of party--she is so..."together."  She has three kids as well (though she does it MUCH better than I do!)--her oldest are twins--a boy and a girl--and her youngest boy is about three (maybe four or five--I don't even know how old MY kids are half the time! That's a blog for another day!) years younger, I think. When we were neighbors, my kids were always invited to their birthday parties and they were all so fun! She was always the perfect host and always had themes that complemented each other and the boys and girls got the greatest goody bags--with babies even getting age appropriate gifts. I buy goody bags and forget to give them to the kids--and I NEVER get cool or appropriate things when I DO remember. The babies end up with blow pops and the middle schoolersget A, B, C books. Tonya had everything PERFECT--right down to the last detail and she NEVER broke a sweat. I throw a party and don't breathe again UNTIL IT'S OVER. It's utter chaos, and the WORST part is I'm always running around like a lunatic with my hair wet from the shower I barely took (or the sweat that inevitably encompasses my body) as guests are arriving and I usually end up with some disaster like no cake, a missing child or forty two-year-olds running around and screaming like crazy people--SOME disaster or another to set me into sweaty mess mode. It can be fifty degrees below zero and I will have sweat POURING out of me like someone attacked me with a bucket of water. Did you ever see Ben Stiller's reaction--to Thai food I think--in Along Came Polly? I make him look calm, cool and collected. Especially "cool."


The worst part of the party for ME  is the opening of the presents. ALL of the children want to open the presents AT THE SAME TIME and there is yelling and fighting (not just from me!), tissue paper and gift bags are thrown about like Jiffy Pop (I get it--you are all too young to know Jiffy Pop--let's just say they throw everything up in the air. I need to work on getting better metaphors aimed at my younger audience--noted) and I never know WHO gave WHAT gift making the thank you cards that I NEVER send that much more difficult to do.  I'm getting stressed out just THINKING about it.


For Brayden's second birthday (WHY I would go to so much trouble for a two-year-old birthday is BEYOND me--those of you who do not have parties until your kids are in school are BRILLIANT! Once you start, you can't go back and with THREE...ugghhh!), I invited WAY TOO MANY kids and their parents all came as well. I was a wreck! Worrying about fifty people and activities to do with toddlers and other kids (aged 1-10) almost gave me a breakdown. LUCKILY, my college roommate and dear friend, Kate came down to help to see me through it. I felt like those of you who are lucky enough to hire a party planner or who were able to have a wedding planner--SHE worried about the organization and fun keeping the Niagara Falls of sweat at bay. I was still kind of stressed--but she made it SO MUCH BETTER!  I don't think I mentioned how CRANKY I get when I entertain...cranky is really too nice. I am SUCH a B%#@! when I throw a party. I don't know WHAT happens to me. Not just because of the sweat (which really doesn't help with the crankiness), but ANYTHING can set me off for NO reason. My husband is usually the object of my rage, but when Kate comes she runs interference--and knows how to handle me (and my RIDICULOUS behavior).  Unfortunately, she moved to Scotland and we moved to Montana--where I missed my middle daughter's birthday (in July) completely (I didn't actually MISS her birthday--I just didn't give her a party--which was noted by her brother, making her dwell on it more than she usually would. Brothers are great like that, aren't they?!). I finally decided to have her party in October and I told her I did it on purpose so that she could have a Halloween birthday party. Not the first time I lied to her (that DAY) and not the last. The number of lies I tell my children each day is a source for ANOTHER blog post. Or a book...


SO...my youngest daughter turned five in November (YIKES!) and I realized I had to give her a party--mostly because she kept reminding me and on the day of her birthday she cried and told me, "...you wroooined my bewerwfday because you won't let me have a pawewerty," (she was REALLY tired!) because her siblings (again--GREAT helpers with this!) told her that she would have a party on her birthday. Nevermind that we celebrated with friends over the weekend (her birthday was on a Monday) I brought a cake into preschool and we were taking her to a fun restaurant for dinner...she thought she would have a huge party at home. NICE. I tried explaining to her, but again--she was EXHAUSTED (and a bit of a brat, I hate to admit about my baby). Of course, AFTER the fun night, she could NOT stop thanking us and smiling, so there's THAT. ANYWAY...when I spoke with "Aunt" Kate about the dread I felt simply ANTICIPATING the party that was not planned, she offered to save the day again. LOVE her!

Here's the problem: Kate came and truly saved the day, but I was a BEAST. Really. I was SOOOOO awful to her--and to EVERYONE. I told you I am horrible, but I was even WORSE this time. And if she hadn't come it would have been DISASTROUS! The thing is, Kate knew not to take anything personally. This is why men and women have such a problem in relationships. Everything I said and did to Kate would have sent my husband to an attorney, but Kate just nodded and smiled or walked away while I did whatever it was I was doing to sabbotage her efforts to make the party stress-free. When the last person left at 4:30, we all exhaled and I felt really good about how it went. Kate decided to give her son a bath (which turned into ALL children getting in their suits and into the tub. How fun for her, right? It gets worse. Before she came down, the doorbell rang. One of Addison's friends from school had lost the invitation and thought the party STARTED at 4. It was 5:20, so they thought they made it for the last hour of the party. As we chatted with the mother and cousin, Addison played with her friend and Kate and her husband watched television with their son in the other room. WORST. FRIEND. EVER. I couldn't even MAKE it stop! I finally told the mom that we needed to get dinner, but by then it was too late--everyone was tired and hungry and...TIRED. SO RUDE--I KNOW--I just didn't know what to say to the friends mom. Oh well--lesson learned I guess! 

So the general theme here is that I have great friends who make it possible for me to do things I most likely would not do without their help. And I still hate parties. My son's birthday is in January and I'm already wondering if we can bribe him into skipping the party. I'm pretty sure I've maxed out my party-planning pleas with Kate and even if I didn't, I SHOULD have, so I'm going to try some breathing exercises (you know--the ones that are COMPLETELY USELESS during childbirth?) and try to count to ten when I feel stressed. I'm pretty sure I will get to google (yes, google...my son informed me when he was four that google is the highest number and that I don't know ANYTHING if I think it's infinity...THIS is the person I am worried about throwing a party for? REALLY?!) SEVERAL times, but we shall see. UNLESS Tonya is reading this and wants to be my next victim party helper...? One of these days my friends are going to realize how great they are and how NOT great I am, but  hopefully by then my children will be planning their own parties.

I could have been a Calligrapher

There is someone living in my basement. No...it isn't my Great Aunt Edie and I'm not talking about my mouse (EVER. I am NOT TALKING about my MOUSE EVER.)It is someone with opposable thumbs. I know this because on the oh-so-rare occasion that it is silent in my house--bahahahahahahahahahaha--sorry--that whole "silent" thing really made me laugh--I hear a toilet flush or a door close. When these things happen I pause for a moment, then think that I am happy that at least SOMEONE flushes the toilet in this house and then I move on to whatever I was doing prior to the door closing or toilet flushing, which in this case, was "talking" to you. One of these days someone is going to come bursting through the basement door at me, expecting a fight, but I'm pretty sure I will continue typing. Unless it is one of my children so-help-me...but they are still too young to try to skip school. Right? And surely I would notice--right? Well, the school would certainly CALL me--RIGHT?! It had BETTER be the polite ghost of some dead relative or I am going to be P-I-S-S-E-D.

 So anyway, I dropped Addison off at school this morning and one of the dads (Yes, DADS. They parent, too (unless I am in a pissy mood and feel like bashing them)--in this case MUCH better than I do!)handed me a calligraphied (I don't care if I spelled it wrong because I haven't USED or THOUGHT of the word since the sixth grade when I was thinking abouut making it my career. Yes..."calligraphying" as a career. Of course, I could probably make MUCH more than I'm making right now with my master's degree that is buried beneath old bibs and burp cloths and I'm PRETTY sure that "Calligrophy" school would not have cost FORTY THOUSAND DOLLARS...) envelope with Addison's name and a sweet sticker on it.

Sidebar: On MONDAY. Of this week. I brought in chicken-scratched-dollar-store invitations (that didn't even MATCH!) to Addison's birthday party that is SATURDAY. THIS Saturday. The sweet child with the calligrophied envelope? December 17th. You know--enough time for people to plan and RSVP--oh and to buy their present for Toys 4 Tots because the sweet little girl (who NEVER complains when HER mother combs her hair or asks her to wear clothes that MATCH. Or clothes THAT FIT.) has enough toys (WAIT 'til they see MY house!) and wants to help needier children instead. The beautifully typed invitation was quite clear on the directions unlike my invitations that may or may not have had a phone number OR an address.

I. SUCK. I do--I know I do, but I can't stop myself from sucking (get out of the gutter--THAT stopped long ago...)! This is such a great idea for next year (which we all know I will be lucky to give ANY of my kids parties next year (a lot of you know the July birthday/Halloween celebration story of '09--those who don't, it's pretty much JUST like it sounds!)and several of my friends are just as good as this dad (okay, I'm just gonna say it because we ALL are thinking it--DADS included--this was ALL the mom, right? Unless the mom is like ME so the dad has to make up for it...INTERESTING. Of course, there is always OUR situation: the mom is like ME AND the DAD is like ME. It doesn't make for a good birthday planner, I'll tell you that!). Regardless, I'd better make damn sure I RSVP by the correct date. Now WHERE is that invitation...?