Dear 5:15 am

Dear 5:15 am,

We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, the last 30 years or so, and I would like us to come to a mutual understanding of one another. My hope is that in time, we can become friends.

We’ve met a few times, in passing, and I’m sure your first impressions of me were not great. You probably thought I was a horrible, cranky, evil person who threw things and said things about you that were not very nice. You were right.  I do apologize for that. It was unfair of me to judge you before I actually got to know you a little.  I will admit that my first impression of you was that you were sent straight from the evil depths of despair to rob me of sleep and all things good and pure.

The few times we have met over the years have often involved rushing off to work, puking up last night’s Bud Light from a can or feeding a screaming baby. Let’s be honest, you haven’t tried very hard either. But, today is a new day and a chance for you and I to start off on the right foot. I didn’t trade you in for the snooze button this morning and I even managed to greet you with a little eagerness. That has to count for something, has to show I’m willing to try.

I do know it’s a little unfair that I come to you now, wanting imagination and productivity and quiet time. I understand that I haven’t been doing my part to nurture a healthy relationship so, here’s what I promise to you:

On the evenings before we plan to hang out, I promise to turn the television off and go to bed at a decent hour. I will not blame you if I’m tired and ill prepared.

I promise to greet you with appreciation if you promise to greet me with creativity.

I promise to meet you with a cup of coffee and a receptive mind if you promise to keep the boys asleep until 7:15.

I promise to actually spend the time writing and save Facebook, Pinterest and Perez for later in the day.

I promise to put my issues with accountability and commitment aside for awhile and give our relationship my very best shot.

I grew two humans, how hard can getting up early a few times a week be?

I look forward to getting to know you a little more intimately. You have come highly recommended by a few mutual friends who have nothing but nice things to say about you. I’m sure if I can learn to forgive you and you can learn to forgive me, we can set things straight and become a pretty amazing team.

Thanks in advance for the forgiveness and keeping an open mind.
Love,
Krysten

Insta Friday. My first link up.

Since this is my first Insta Friday I wanted to start small. I decided that one picture was enough.

Especially since it’s this picture.

This is my new (used) treadmill. I’m very proud of it. I’m very excited about it. I’m very humorous about it.

Yes. I was that lady who bought a treadmill on the first day of the New Year. I swore I wasn’t going to have a New Year’s resolution, and I’m totally sticking to that. Buuuttt…Since I have wanted one for so long, and I knew that New Year’s Day would probably be a time of year that people would be trying to sell them, I found this beauty for 40 DOLLARS!

NO. There isn’t anything wrong with it! It’s slightly used, home-gym quality, and in perfect working order. And it was 40 DOLLARS! I couldn’t NOT buy it!!

And no one could argue when my reasoning was, “Do you know how many piles of Laundry I can stack on this thing?”

Laugh and others will laugh with you.

Happy Friday.  

What am I thinking right now??

I will be the first to admit that I am guilty of expecting people to read my mind. I honestly believe it is part of the reason I have found myself so desperately disappointed for so many years of my life. I know that sounds a little drastic, but it was a big truth for me. I have exhausted a lot of time and energy expecting things from people that they didn’t even know I expected, then being let down because they didn’t deliver. It’s unrealistic and quite unfair. I have done it with my family, my children and in my own marriage.

And I know I’m not alone.

Over the last few weeks, I have had a few conversations with some of my very best girlfriends about this subject. The age old womanism that is, “Why do I have to tell him? Shouldn’t he just know? Won’t telling him what I want take the romance and creativity out of it?”

Because I’ve read so many articles & books and watched so many television shows on the subject, and I’m totally qualified to do so…

 Here is the stuff I’ve thrown against the wall that seems to be sticking.

1.       I guess you don’t have to tell him. You can just go through the next fifty years of marriage doing what you are already doing and continue to be disappointed. By the way, how’s that been working out for you?

2.       Do you just know what he wants? Do you read his mind? If so, awesome! Please, teach me your ways…

3.       I don’t know. Romance is a super funny word. To me it’s the first cup of coffee. I love the way the first cup of coffee tastes. I get my feelings hurt if I don’t get the first cup of coffee. It’s better than flowers. Better than chocolate. Jeremy gave me the first, first cup of coffee because he was still trying to impress me, I’m sure, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is I told him I loved it and he’s been doing it for a lot of years. It still impresses me. I told him one year that I wanted flowers on my birthday, sent to work, so everyone would know how fabulous I was and how fabulous he was. Were the flowers any less beautiful? Appreciated? Romantic? I don’t know how everyone describes it but living in a world where my partner in crime listens to what I say, and responds in a way that makes me happy, is pretty romantic. So for me the answer is No. No, it doesn’t make it less beautiful. Less appreciated. Less romantic. Maybe I’ve got a lame idea of romance. I don’t think so, though. The other morning, Jeremy got up before I did. We had made a deal the night before. One that included, “Then I want to sleep in in the morning.” So, he got up. Did he want to? Probably not, I didn’t want him to want to get up, I just wanted him to get up. So he did. And on his way out, he turned on the exhaust fan in the bathroom so that the white noise would drown out the boys’ yelling. I thought that was pretty creative. If that’s lame, then, whatever. But, I also willingly gave up the first cup of coffee which he thought was worth it. If I’m wrong, if that’s not romance and I’m just really old and married, I’m okay with that. Seriously. Maybe there was a time where a different kind of romance is what I thought I wanted but tweaking my perception on the issue has made me really old and happily married which is something I can totally live with.

I think one of the very best lessons my mom tried to teach me, one I’m still trying to learn, is the idea that I am responsible for teaching people how to treat me. Part of it is the way I treat myself, and part of it often includes telling people what I want. And by “telling people what I want”, I have found that saying things like, “OMG! You never do anything romantic. Miss Blah Blah Blah got flowers at work the other day from her husband. How come you never buy me flowers? I want flowers. It would be nice if just once you bought me some freakin’ flowers” does NOT yield positive results in my world. When I use that approach with Jeremy, I instantly sound like the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons…you know. You know the ones. And nothing romantic ever came from one of those conversations.

Since trying to make my thoughts louder just gave me a headache that the Gods of Starbucks couldn’t fix, I’m trying “Stop expecting people to read your mind” instead.  I’m not always super good at it, but I’m working on it and that totally counts.

Not Perfect. Good Enough.

If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.

--Kurt Vonnegut

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting outside with Roxy while the boys ate at the dinner table. I was making fun of myself because they were eating dinosaur chicken, instant mashed potatoes and canned peaches…again. Roxy usually teases me because they eat so many pieces of chicken shaped like creatures from the Mesozoic Era (What? I watch Friends), but for some reason, that night she just said, “Hey, at least it’s hot food in their bellies”. It’s true, it is hot food in their bellies, and it could be a lot worse. Sometimes I’m a little too hard on myself, though, and forget that good enough isn’t always something to be ashamed of. They’re not the best eaters, anything is better than nothing and frozen chicken, dehydrated potatoes and canned fruit is better than chocolate bars, fruit snacks and string cheese. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough.

I was talking to someone yesterday, about the exciting subject of laundry, and when I confessed that my folded laundry rarely ever finds its way to closets and drawers, he said, “At least yours is folded.” BAM! Totally right. It’s clean, dry and wrinkle free. That sounds totally good enough to me. Do I want my laundry to be put away? Of course I do. I want my house to be perfect and my car to always be clean and my kids to eat regular chicken. Every once in a while I get those things, but not every day. I could spend a lot of time and energy getting upset about that stuff, and I have, trust me, but part of this whole, corny, “Happiness” journey I decided to embark out on a year ago is teaching me that getting upset because things aren’t exactly the way I want them to be will rob me of the joy, humor and insane beauty that make up what they already are. I don’t want to miss all the good stuff because I’m focusing on the shortcomings.

I have to take this approach a lot, about a lot of things. There are about 15 or 16 emotional directions I could go. I’ve even been known to take 2 or 3 of them at a time. Trust me, “It’s good enough” is the best possible direction for me. And you, if you have the pleasure of being around me on a regular basis.

I’m not talking about taking this approach with the important things. The amount of love I give, the amount of time I invest in myself, the amount of time I invest in other people. I’m talking about the stuff that no one is going to remember when I’m gone. In fact, if whoever gives my eulogy talks about my laundry skills, it will be because I have done something severely, severely wrong.

So, the fact that most of the house is vacuumed today is good enough. It’s harder to vacuum with a helper and Brodie insisted on “Helping”.

The fact that there is no trash or old sippy cups in my car and I can see out of the front and rear windshields is good enough. She’s still really pretty.

The fact that Logan ate two bites of his broccoli and all of his prehistoric chicken before the whining started is good enough. He cleared his plate and told me thanks for dinner.

The fact that I managed to at least wash Brodie’s face and hands and the potatoes out of his hair before he lost his mind and crashed out in between screams is good enough. There is something about the silence of his sleeping that makes me forget he needed a bath.

I can do anything, but I can’t do everything. Not perfectly anyway. Some of it just has to be good enough.

Does that sound lazy? Maybe, but I dare you to call me that after living a day in my world.  

To. My. Face.

Rockin' New Year's Eve

My mom used to tell me that the way you spent New Year’s Eve was supposed to be some indicator of how you were going to spend the rest of the year. Well, if that’s the truth, let’s forecast 2012 for a minute, okay?

It will be loud and a little chaotic. It will be jam-packed full of giggles and dancing and messes and  hitting and I’m sorry’s and kisses and I love you’s.

Jeremy and I thought about doing something. We even planned some stuff. All of it fell apart with a tired wife and an injured husband and two kids that hadn’t both been home with both of their parents in what had started to feel like forever. With Jeremy’s new schedule and the split shifts I work during the week, finding us all four hanging out in the living room floor is a pretty rare thing.

So, instead of going out, we’re home, in our jammies. On the menu: Pizza. On the television: Megamind.  On the agenda: Not a whole lot. The truth is all of the anti-excitement that’s happening tonight is kind of what we all four needed. If Mom’s superstition is true and I will get more of these kinds of nights in the next 12 months, I could get really right with that.

At midnight, I’ll kiss my husband, just like I’ve done every year since New Year’s Eve 2000, except this year (unlike the last few) I won’t have to wake him up first. His new found nightowl-ness is definitely something to thank 2011 for.  The fancy clothes and the fancy shoes and the fancy cocktails will have to wait until next year. Truth is I’m really not a huge fan of fancy shoes anyway. I’d rather wear my slippers.

Thanks for the cuddles, 2011. You’re alright in my book.

Yay December!

It would be ridiculous to try and start where I left off, so let’s do the quick version, k?

The last couple of months, since my computer crashed and I had no computer and my computer left me and I was alone and abandoned, have been good.

Seriously, good. Busy, but good.

My kids are healthy and my marriage is healthy and my life is a little hectic and a little messy and a lot loud and a lot happy.  It’s not like you missed much. Just a lot of mushy ramblings and notes of contentment. New jobs, new starts, new words and discoveries and awards and superheroes. Good stuff. Good, good stuff. I didn’t get a chance to write about all of it. I’m trying to learn to manage my time better. And, you know, the computer thing didn’t help. But, the good news is, here we are in December, my favorite month of the WHOLE year. My birthday, Jesus’ birthday and Santa brought me a brand spankin’ new laptop. Yay December!

With everyone already starting to talk about the New Year and their resolutions, I started thinking about whether or not I’d ever actually made one…and kept it. I can remember making the ones to lose weight and to keep my house organized. Those usually lasted a few days, at most. There was the one (or two or three) where I resolved to finally finish my degree. (Hint: I enrolled in my first college course in the fall of 1999) And, of course, the one where I quit smoking…

I went back and read the first two blogs I wrote at the beginning of the year. The first one, while I hated it later, makes sense to me now. It was about being happy. That was the goal for 2011. When I got to my second post, I had decided that the first post was stupid and tried to start over. The final draft of the goal was actually just to Be. And by doing so, to write. I’m really glad I didn’t follow my natural instinct and delete the first post. It’s like me to do that. To take something that I feel, think, want and disregard it later just because it got too tough. Too uncomfortable.  Too intense. I think, looking back at the last year, both goals still hold completely true for me. I want to be happy. duh. Don’t we all? I also want to Be.

To Write.

Why I couldn’t see the connection between writing and happiness, in being, then, I haven’t quite figured out yet. But I’m working on it. And that totally counts.

So, instead of starting to worry about what I have to change for the next year, I decided to just get a little excited about what I’ve already done.

This marks my 15^th post. Do you know how many posts I had in 2010? None. I’m not super good at math, but I think 15 is more than none. Since my resolution, in part, was to write, I’m going to put that in the success box. I’m sure there will be something in 2012’s about consistency and content and blah, blah, blah…but we’re not there yet. We’re getting excited about 15 posts, remember?

I decided to write and I wrote. I didn’t get published. I didn’t write a novel. I didn’t write every day.  I didn’t even take a legitimate swing at having an actual blog. But, at the end of the year, I wrote, which is exactly what I set out to do.  

I have had a couple of people ask me when I was going to write another post. I guess the answer is…Now. The writing thing is still on the top of the list. We’re just going through a few learning curves. It happens. Don’t expect any new resolutions until I get a better handle on this one, though. I’m making a new rule for myself: I DO NOT have to feel obligated to make a New Year’s resolution if last year’s is making adequate progress.

It’s making adequate progress. I promise.

Oh and, silly enough, the original destination of happiness has managed to somehow find a cozy spot right next to writing and the two have found a way to exist, and thrive, together.

Everything I need to know...

I learned from television.

Don’t judge me. I was a latch key kid. There were way worse things I could have gotten into. I have an unnatural relationship with fictional characters. Always have, always will. I can take comfort in the fact that at least the shows I watched, as a kid, were approved for all audiences and the scripts were written with a (mostly) high moral fortitude.

One of my favorite bloggers, little miss momma, suggested a “Things you need to know about me if we’re going to be BFFs” blog. I thought “What do I want people to know?” Well, I want you to know that media has greatly influenced my life. For better or for worse. I want you to know that I take things that other people have written and re-write them to make them work for me. I take women from television and use their strengths to strengthen myself and their weaknesses to make myself feel normal. It happens. Ask my real life BFF Megan , she's obsessed like I am. She gets it. I’m sure some of you will too. If not, well, then thanks for reading but you’ll probably have NO IDEA what I’m talking about. That’s okay. I like you anyway. But, seriously, set your DVR once in a while and watch some TV. What are you doing instead? Cleaning your house? Working?

LAME.

The last few weeks have been especially awesome for TV. All of my favorite shows have come back for the fall season and I’ve even added a few new favorites to the list. (If you haven’t gotten a chance yet, check out New Girl with Zooey Dechanel on Fox. It’s Flippin hilarious!)

If I tried to list every woman on every show that I’ve borrowed life lessons from, it would take way more than one blog. So here’s a partial list:

Christina Yang and Meredith Grey from Grey’s Anatomy

These two have the most amazing heterosexual life partner situation happening for them. The most amazing fictional one anyway. The real life one I have with Megan kind of trumps it, but they are definitely our inspiration. They are dark and twisty, ridiculously loyal and their support for one another, whether legal or not, is unwavering. There is no judgment, they don’t talk about one another being the other’s back and if one of them is doing something stupid, the other will call her out on it, even if she eventually helps her pull it off. They are each other’s “Person” and you won’t find two thicker thieves around. It is their relationship that reminds me of the type of friend I truly want to be and the type I’m grateful I have. The kind that shows up, no questions asked, and does whatever is needed. I love Christina and Meredith.       

Ellie and Jules from Cougar Town

If Christina and Meredith ever get a sitcom spin-off, it’ll probably look a little like Cougar Town. These two, while not quite as dark and twisty, definitely have a heterosexual life partner thing happening for them as well. They are a little lighter, a little fluffier and they drink way more wine, but they have each other’s backs. They have stood by one another through marriage and divorce, babies and college kids and manage to be completely possessive of one another without it getting weird. They laugh at each other, laugh at themselves and accept one another fully even with all of the strange, annoying, and down right mean idiosyncrasies the other possesses. If Megan and I ever get our wish and live next door to each other…I imagine it’ll look a whole lot like Ellie and Jules.  

Frankie Heck from The Middle

Frankie might not be the best to teach me how to be a friend, but she sure has that realistic motherhood thing DOWN! I watched last night as she washed her armpits in the sink while trying to get out the door for work. One of her kids was in her shower and her husband was sitting idly by and reading the newspaper while she tried desperately to get all the kids out the door and ready for school. Frankie Heck is me. She’s me in 15 years. She’s me right now. At her core, all she really wants is her family to be healthy and happy and well put together and to be appreciated for all that she does. Her house is NEVER clean. Her laundry is NEVER done. Her dishwasher is ALWAYS full and her kids are ALWAYS crazy. Her relationship with her husband, Mike, reminds me of Jeremy and I so much that I swear sometimes ABC has camera’s in my house. I love that Frankie is real. I love that she’s constantly jealous of other moms. I love that she takes the simplest things that most families I know deal with and makes them endearing and funny. Example: Taking Back the House, from Season Two, where she highlights things like the kids sneaking into her and Mike’s bed in the middle of the night and the fact that they never get to watch their own TV. They decide to take back ownership of their own home and their crazy kids fight them every step of the way. Sure, in the end, things stay exactly the way they are and Frankie and Mike continue to put their children first, but I love that there is someone to watch who goes through the same stuff I go through and reminds me that it’s okay to laugh at this thing I call my life.

Roseanne

Let’s be honest, there would be no Frankie Heck without Roseanne. Roseanne was the first time where I could watch a TV show and think, “Yeah, that’s a real family. That’s my family” The ends never met. The endings were rarely happy. The trials and tribulations were so raw and so real that you couldn’t help but laugh. I can remember my mom actually telling me that I could watch Roseanne because it was the most real show on television. I still watch Roseanne all the time. Thank Jesus for Nick at Nite. If you haven’t watched it recently, stay up late, turn to Nick at Nite, take comfort in the fact that no matter how broke you are, how screwed up your situation might be, Roseanne and the rest of the Connor Clan understand.    

So, there it is. Things you should know about me. I love TV. I love characters. I’m trying to be better, but on the days when I’m not better, I find reasons for that to be okay, too.

DVR. Go. Do it. NOW.