Christmas For Free

Christmas 2011, I wil not be spending any money. You heard me right.

I LOVE Christmas. The decorating, the spirit, the shopping, the wrapping, the air. I love it from about mid November to mid January, really. But let's face it; the commercialism, the money... it's ridiculous.

I don't come from one of those families that has cleverly adopted the 'gift exchange.' Nope. We buy for everyone. We enjoy gluttony and debt. Apparently.

All kidding aside, we enjoy the merriment and opening presents, food, etc. I have no desire to take away from that. One year, maybe ten years ago, I handmade all my presents. Not free, but cheap and of course the personal touch. So that's been done, and it's hard to figure taste, decor, etc.

But I decided, this year, no money.

So here are the rules. I CAN selln things or make money using FREE resources and that money CAN be spent, on supplies, etc. But no shopping, no spending.

I can't give away all my secrets, but it is well in the works. I do a little everyday and my gifts promise to be personal and something not to be soon forgotten.

We shall see. :)

Getting Enough Oxygen

My daughter must have been tiptoeing towards adolescence when I started telling her the oxygen mask story. She is seventeen now, and I only have to repeat it twice a year or so. But the other day, I was reminded, during a meeting of my peers, as I tried to share and explain the humble selfishness I try to practice in my day to day. When you ride on an airplane, you are always instructed on the use of your oxygen masks, dropping from the ceiling, elastic band wrapped round your head, you know the drill. When I was a young mother, I wasn't alone in my protests, while discussing later the flight attendant insistance that parents place oxygen masks on themselves before their children. The instinct of a parent is to protect our children, even if it means risking our own well being. Of course we all know, we need to be breathing, in order to take care of a child nearby.

As children grow into young adults, boundaries are tested. Before long, the oxygen mask scenario was a staple in most of my lectures about my needing a break, time to myself, a life! I would always tell her, "I have to put the oxygen mask on myself first!" She claimed to get it, sometimes.

As it turns out, my daughter is not the only person that I find myself enlightening about my need for oxygen and theirs as well. The most recent was a meeting of women, arms full and out of breath, one with a child in tow, until finally all were gathered at a large table, having just barely made time for what is an indulgence for all of us. We apologize to husbands, we arrive late and leave early. Did I say we? Maybe not me. This is some of my oxygen. I need it and I take it.

The better I breathe, the longer I'll live. The more I grow, the wider my wing span. So I teasingly harass my friends and encourage them to demand more of their own time, their own day! I am a single mother, I try to make a living from home, I volunteer. I am available when friends and family call. But I put me first. I say no. I slip up now and then and take on a little too much, but I can usually undo that pretty quickly.

Get a manicure. Take a bath. Go have coffee and spend hours reading a magazine. Get a sitter. Go to the movies. Order pizza. Buy a blouse that costs too much. Sleep in. Make time. You will smile brighter and laugh louder. You will love life and the people in it.

Coincidentally, I once compared affection to oxygen. We need it. It helps us thrive.
Breathe.

I Could Never Be A Reporter...

I love taking pictures and I love to write. It’s the documentation I’m a slave to. The minutes of our lives are flying by, constantly, at a frightening pace and we document so little, when you think about it. So I am forever trying, to capture memories, thoughts, moments forever, for myself, my child, my family, friends and clients. On paper, I would make a great reporter.

I have always had a thing for super heroes, Superman in particular, so you would think Lois Lane would be an identity I would wear well, improve upon even, with modern fashion and social networking. Report? Yes. I do a lot of that. But the pictures? Oh… them.

I would be great for the Labor Day Cookie Kick Off at the local grocery store, the six-toed puppy born at the pound and all the Christmas lights and snow drifts you can handle. But, in your face, starving babies, mangled cars and pissed off celebrities? Can you say high resolution zoom? I just can’t get in people’s faces, in their private moments, in their lives; unless they ask me to.

So, I could never be a reporter. Not the kind I would want to be anyway. I just have a hard time being, rude. Ok, enough with the laughing! You know what I mean.

I would be an excellent Barbara Walters, sitting in a lovely Ikea-inspired, interview environment, complete with fresh Birds of Paradise and eclectic coffee mugs. That has me written all over it. Then we could dish and I could ask all kinds of sordid questions. Of course my camera man could catch all the tears and tension.

I am very comfortable with nude subjects, boudoir sessions, couples in created private moments, because I’ve been invited.

It’s all about my own embarrassment and pride I guess. I say this, because I also think I would make an excellent private investigator. I can take the nosey pictures, if no one knows I am. Shameful, I know. I am no Lois Lane.

The Great Dating Bluff...

It's not just men this year. Valentine's Day has taken quite a beating. Social networking sites are buzzing with the anti-Valentine, the Single Person's Awareness and other substitutions, alternative suggestions for February 14th. Poor, poor Valentine. :(

I am a lover of love. I am one of those annoying people that screams it from the roof tops, whether I am spoken for or not. There is always love to give, to a variety of people around us! For me, Valentine's is second only to my daughter's birthday and the holy grail, Christmas!! (Don't get me started.)

This year, I have a significant other, after a couple years without. I have spent just as many years 'taken' as I have single in my adult life, so I am no stranger, but I definitely prefer the latter, no surprise. My guy is sweet and considerate and a 'keeper.' Or so I thought.

About a week ago, maybe a little longer, it started. The talk about tight budgets and empty pockets, Valentine's isn't a real holiday. What? My internal voice has been on overdrive since then... along with my inbox, once I relayed that conversation to my best friend. It's not that I was expecting a parade or anything, but the man, the grinch, the anti-romantic that was talking that day, just wasn't him. We have only been dating for a few months, so it begged the question. Is this the real him? I thought that I was talking to a stranger... or maybe I had been dating one??

So, he WAS bluffing... which I guess could have been predicted, by everyone but me... and we all breathe a collective sigh of relief. Keeper status intact. But that isn't the story. Do women set themselves up for disappointment? Do we set the bar too high? Is the pressure too great? (Before everyone comments that it's not just women, I am only a women and mostly hang out with women. Theirs are the only opinions I feel qualified to comment on. Thx!)

We complain that men are great at first and then they slowly decline. But is this a monster we have created? Do they walk around with their guts sucked in, saving their lunch money and shining their shoes... all so we can yell at them later for getting fat, poor and sloppy?

Let's face it, dating is a mess, a war zone and you better have a full canteen and an extra pair of socks if you plan to survive it! Women are excellent at knowing what they don't want, where they've crashed and burned in the past, but when they get a little piece of happiness, they drag out the Cosmos and NetFlix Sex in the City and then maybe reality gets a little lost in the walk in!?

So what's the bluff? Men are athletes, they're about performance and results. We want the best and they aim to please, but no one can sprint the whole way. I am learning a lot in my old age (35,) that I wish I knew years ago. I guess that's the only way, but I am trying anyway, to educate the masses. So... I got a dozen red roses for Valentine's, candy, card and bath goodies. Home run. But most days, doesn't a good guy just needs to step up to the plate and swing, in jeans and a sweatshirt, at the ballfield down the street?

I say yes.

You know, the battles and wars; sprints and marathons, you get the idea. Superman was great, but he never did get the girl. :)

Vegetarian... It's No Big Deal! ~

I grew up in a steakhouse. I mean that. My mother was a waitress, my grandmother was a waitress and eventually, I was a hostess. I had birthday parties there, I did my homework at a back table, I rolled silverware and I drank more Shirley Temples than milk.

We at the fat. Our dogs expected t-bones every night. I grew up in a steakhouse.

Last October I turned thirty-five and like every woman I know, I am always thinking about losing weight, exercising, getting back to my high school size once and for all. I'm not losing the battle, but I'm not winning either.

I have had friends in the past who were vegetarian and a cousin, who is more like a sister , has been recruiting for years. They slay me. Or they did. This year, 2011, just over five weeks ago, I went Vegetarian. You know, resolutions and all.

Yes, my boyfriend happens to be a vegetarian and we eat together, cook together, so it seemed like it was time. A vegetarian man? I know. He even drives a truck and watches football. Who knew?

So I'm five weeks in, I feel great, I'm losing weight. Despite the cheese and pasta and tortillas and did I mention cheese, oh, yes... and plenty of vegetables! I'm learning about awesome vegetables I never knew existed! I'm losing weight. Even after a blizzard has kept me from the track.

Most importantly, no cravings, no regrets, I haven't once stared longingly at a cheeseburger. Our kids eat meat, our kitchens aren't empty. We eat out. I've never felt the tug. Even I'm surprised. In the beginning it was more of an effort, not out of hunger, but out of habit. What to buy, where to shop, being wary of soups and mixes with beef or chicken base. But that didn't take long. I am eating things now I would have never touched when "dieting" and loving the things I've missed. What I don't miss... is the meat. :)

My Daughter Asked Me To Stop Being Her Mom...

Today I heard one I haven't heard before. That doesn't happen often!

My teenage daughter and I, were having a typical 'discussion.' Typical meaning trying, stressful & heated. We aren't the worst mother-daughter relationship, but we have our moments.

My daughter has a brain injury, which effects her every thought, act and decision.
She forgets easily, so things I explain to her today, she wants another explanation of tomorrow. This isn't true for every single issue, but things that are especially important to her, tend to find their way back to the table.

My daughter will most likely not leave home, possibly never have gainful employment, possibly not go to college. We aren't sure of a lot of things, but I try to be realistic. I know that I myself have not yet come to terms with these things, but there's no time for that. It takes all I have to help her to even consider them.

Tonight, she was questioning me, again, about her internet and phone privileges, which have recently been tapered back quite a bit. The sad truth is, she did nothing wrong, but she lacks the judgment to protect herself against outside influences. As a parent, controlling the internet is almost impossible. She has internet on her phone, Wii, DS and laptop. It's insane.

In this conversation, in tears, she said "I need you to stop being my mom for a minute and..." She never completed the sentence, because I said. "Impossible. That will never happen." Being her mother is more a part of me, than any other part of me. It would be like removing my blood or my skin, for a minute. I tried to explain to her that every thought in my head, is processed with the mind of a mother, her mother. It's the only identity I have, I can't turn it off and on. I am so glad.

My daughter wasn't thrilled and I'm sure we will revisit the topic in general, but I hope I at least made her understand that being her mom isn't a hobby.

I used to hate repeating myself. Things used to be different. But the mom never changes. Now we have the same conversations over and over. We have a lot of rules and notes and charts and lists. She has family, friends, doctors, therapists and just one Mom. ~

The 'To Do' List, not just for groceries anymore...

Today I am calling attention and praise to the "To Do" list! I don't mean a few scribbles on a slip of paper, to later be discarded, lost, forgotten. You might be surprised to know that a list of things to do can benefit everyday and every task!

The list itself is more than a reminder! The completed list, with items crossed off, check marks along the side, is a badge of honor; a trophy of your accomplishments! When my day is done and I can reference that list, I know my day was not wasted. I can remind myself what I did and what I may need to do the next day.

Maybe your list will be per week, not day.
Maybe your list is full of fun, spontaneous things; not necessarily errands & tasks.
Maybe once in awhile you have no list and you do nothing. This is much easier to take when you have several lists from days gone by to justify a well deserved free day!

Start today. Using a spiral pad, make your to do list. You may want to date it, or not. At the end of your day, just turn the page, rather than throwing the list away. A fresh page awaits for a fresh day.

Months from now, these aren't just lists. They are a diary of the things you have done; a reminder of when and where things have been accomplished, complete with curious doodles and forgotten phone messages.

Ultimately, a to do list keeps me organized and on track, which means I accomplish more and therefore have more time for myself, my child and a new list, of things, to do!