FOUR WEEKS!

These days, when you ask Logan about his Unc, (My brother, Austin) he’ll tell you that he’s in Afghanistan fighting bad guys. He’ll also excitedly tell you that Unc will be home in FOUR WEEKS! I don’t think that Logan quite understands what four weeks looks like, but he can tell from all the grown-ups in his world that it must be a short period of time and we can start being excited about it. I think he’s right. We are ALL excited about it. We all have our own reasons to be excited, but for one reason or another, we’re all happy he’s coming home.

In my world, my brother Austin is like Jasper Hale.

What? You don’t know Twilight? Lame. Okay, fine, let me explain.

Jasper Hale has this awesome ability to sense and manipulate the emotions of those around him. It’s like his power. They all have one. Keep up.

Anyway, Austin, while not a vampire, somehow ended up with this same ability. The beauty in Austin’s power, though, is I don’t even think he understands he possesses it.

But, he does.

Have you ever met one of those people who make it damn near impossible for you to be in a bad mood when you’re around them?

That’s my brother.

When I think I’m about to lose my mind from pure exhaustion and then someone tells a stupid joke that leaves me no choice but to laugh hysterically at the pure ridiculousness of it.

That’s my brother.

When I want desperately to be mad or upset or dramatic about something that probably won’t be that big of a deal tomorrow, but instead I end up making inappropriate jokes about the situation, often at someone else’s expense.

That’s my brother.

When I forget for a minute that there is always a reason to laugh, when I need someone to talk to who won’t let me take myself too seriously, when I start to think no one else’s brain works quite as fast as mine and I need someone to validate my useless crap…

That’s my brother.

Logan and Brodie are excited about Nerf Gun wars and silly songs they make up as they go. Jeremy is excited about war stories and beer. I’m excited about mid-morning coffee dates and long talks about nothing. Laughing so hard my stomach hurts. Smiling big, even when I don’t think I want to.

He might not be a vampire, but he is definitely my own brand of superhero.

He’s in Afghanistan fighting bad guys…and he’ll be home in FOUR WEEKS!!

I Quit!

When I opened my eyes at 5:30 on Tuesday morning, the very first thing I thought was, “Dammit. I DO NOT want to go to work tonight.”

That is SO not a way to start the day.

Now, I know sometimes, jobs just suck. It happens. I don’t expect to want to go to work every. single. day. But I also don’t think it’s healthy for me to be filled up with so much dread and despair that it overflows and fills my whole entire day with anxiety.

I knew, for sure, that I wanted to quit my job about six months ago. Some stuff went down. I couldn’t get right with it. The place I had once loved and been proud to work in had become a toxic environment for me. It was time to go. Unfortunately, I couldn’t just quit that night like I wanted to. I mean, I could have, but it wouldn’t have been a very good idea.

I did, however, immediately set things in motion so getting to the point where I could quit was both possible and responsible. Please, because I’m putting this one on the record, understand that this is a very big deal for me. This is not normally the way I operate. Ideas and concepts like time, patience and planning are very new to me. I’ve been known to make choices without, you know, thinking about their consequences. Letting my temper or hurt feelings, or both, take over. It has caused me a lot of heartache. I didn’t want this to be one more decision I’d look back on and wish I had done differently.

So, I found a new job. One I absolutely adore. Working days. With people I love. And for six months I worked them both.

Some days were harder than others, but with the endless support of our amazing friends and family, we made it. Barely. I lightened my load at the job I wanted to quit and slowly but surely, got to a place where I was no longer dependent on the money. I’m not going to write a how-to or anything, but I’m pretty proud of myself. This is one of those “Giant Leap” kind of moments in my world. One of those things I do every once in a while and think, “WHOA! That was totally grown-up”.

Six months proved to be all we could handle, though, and it was starting to take a toll on the whole family. Jeremy started a new job in November, working nights. The boys were worn out from being shuffled, I was worn out from the shuffling, and we were never all four in the same room at the same time. I missed my family and they missed me. Me working nights had worked for a long, long time…until one day it didn’t.

So, on Tuesday night, I quit.

I think Logan was as excited as I was. We both knew that the shuffling was over and he would be back at home, in his own bed at bedtime, every night. Thursday afternoon was better, though. When I picked him up from school he asked me, “Who’s house are we going to now?” I smiled and said, “Our house, silly. Mommy doesn’t work nights anymore, remember?” His mini-me eyes lit up and he smiled back and said, “Ooooohhhh yeahhhhhhh.”

It’s still not exactly a traditional schedule. Not one we’ll do forever. But we’re not talking about forever, here. We’re talking about right now. We will do it this way right now because that’s what’s best. That’s what’s working.

Tonight, we are all four at home together. On a Saturday Night. I did not want to ruin our fun, quality family time by trying to cook, wrestle Brodie, answer 1 million questions from Logan and yelling the phrase “Baaaaaaabe…When you’re done with that, can you Please come get Your kids.” So, we had Jack-in-the-Box for dinner. Before the boys went to bed Grandma and my nieces came over and we played Wii Bowling. (I totally bowled Pro)

Everyone is under the same roof at the same time. Equally important, it’s Saturday night and I am NOT bitterly slaving away at a job I had grown to despise. And I have closure about it. Not because I went out in a giant blaze of glory, like I thought I wanted to do, but because I'm learning about calm and rational instead.

What. A. Concept.

The question came up, more than once, on whether or not I could afford to quit. The BF, Megan, gave the best answer on this one…

“She couldn’t afford not to.”  

She’s totally right.

Happy Weekend.

InstaFriday

Linking up with life rearranged today sharing some random stuff from the week. I love this idea. I ALWAYS have my cell phone on me, so these moments are ones that I may not have caught otherwise.

Here's a look at some of our downtime for the week...

Sunday afternoon I caught this one of my boys laying in the floor and wrestling with their Great Grandpa Bud...Who's 80, by the way...How cool is this?!

Jeremy and Brodie chillin' out in the backyard, playing on the swingset. Yes, the hubby is wearing shorts. No, I didn't forget to do his laundry.

Logan snuck up to the fort while Brodie was occupied. He doesn't get to go up there as often as he would like because his brother tries to follow him. The thing is 12 feet tall and Brodie lacks a sense of danger. He'll try to walk off the edge...Maybe in a few more months (or years) he'll get to play, too.

and this is the Monster. Wearing my glasses, sitting in my lap, saying cheese, looking very Non-Monsterish. We took about 10 pictures of him wearing the glasses. He was pretty entertained.

and this is what my new favorite coffee cup looks like at 6 am. Yes, I've been up that early almost everyday this week...I'm so proud!!!

Enjoy!
Happy Friday!


Linking up over here today!!

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.