Becoming Instead of Wanting

Wanting to be something and being that thing are two very different things.  I want to be so many things.  I want to be good becomingand kind and selfless.  I want to be intelligent and thoughtful and gentle.  I want to serve and to teach my children to serve.  I want, desperately, to be all of these things but am I really any of them?  Not really.  Am I some of them sometimes?  Maybe.  My one question for myself is why?

What is the difference between someone who wants something and someone who has achieved it?  The first thing that comes to mind is action.  Obviously I am over-simplifying but for many things in life that is the main difference.  What do I need to do to achieve what I really, truly want?  I need to act.  I need to find ways, small or large, to step instead of think.  I need a plan of action and to implement my plan of action.

I don’t want to just want to make the world a better place.  I want to actually make the world a better place in every way that I can.

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Spring Break Woes

Last week I sat down at the kitchen table and wrote down a list of all of the fun things we could do for spring break.  Some were local some were day trip ideas.  I had plans for making sure the boys did a little school work, had playdates, spent time at the gym for me and them and that we ate healthy snacks and that we DID NOT spend our time watching TV and playing video games.

Then reality hit.

  • All three of my boys have wicked coughs.  (MMM spent all night on the verge of puking because his coughing was so bad.) Which means:
    • No day trips.
    • No gym.
    • No playdates.

not_silent_spring

  • My husband had projects started so he didn’t have time to spend the whole day “day-tripping” to the beach.

You get the idea.  Things did not go as planned.

So, here we are.  All exhausted from illness and sleepless nights.  Watching movies, playing video games and napping are all on the agenda for today. A date night is in the works for this mama and hubby if the nana doesn’t mind these coughing kiddos. (She doesn’t usually mind so fingers crossed it happens!) And hopefully we’ll have some playtime out back while dad-ers works on the fence.

This will not be a spring break for the ages.  There will be no epic road trips, day trips, or galavanting around our fair city but we will survive. We will have time, someday, when the kids are not so small and prone to illness, when we can plan amazing day trips etc.  Those things can and will happen some day.  For now, though, my kids will know my husband I love them fiercely and, for me, that’s all that matters.

Happy April!

Ugly Stupid Unloveable

I am:DSC_9394-1

Ugly.  Stupid.  Friendless.  Unloveable.  Annoying.  Inept.  Irritating.

Often I run through lists of all of my failures.  I put myself down constantly and I am tired of it.  I am ready to make a change.  I am ready to be a confident person.  I am ready to love myself.  I know that it will be a long road but I also know it is worth it.  I need it.  My husband needs it.  He can’t constantly be my buoy.

I am arming myself with this killer list of how to be confident and I am doing it because I AM WORTH IT.

(The picture is from yesterday.  We finally carved my son's Halloween pumpkin.  HAHAHAHAHA)

To Downgrade or Not to Downgrade, That is the Question.

Lately I’ve been thinking about giving up my smartphone.  I haven’t been brave enough, yet, but I think it would be a good for me.  As I’ve expressed before, I’m not very good at moderation so I think it would help me focus more on what I really want if I didn’t have as many distractions.  I’ still want a cell phone just one not connected to the internet.  On the flip side, it’s just so damned convenient, right? I’m often grateful that I can look up directions to anywhere from anywhere at any moment.

So, what do you think?  Are you addicted to your phone?  Could you walk away from it if you wanted to?

Here are some other peoples thoughts on unplugging:

Londoners gave up their first born child for WiFi.

4 Advantages to unplugging

An interview with a man who lives off the grid.

A photographer is documenting the death of conversation.

She captures a lot of my feelings in her post about cutting down screen time.

Here’s another one about putting down your phone.

The New York Times asked readers to unplug temporarily.  You can watch the readers response videos here.

Broken Record

Balance is on my mind a lot these days.  Finding the right balance for everything in life is what life is all about, right?  My problem dejour is my body; ie: body image.  Talking about how I feel about my body drives my husband batty.  He CANNOT STAND it.  To him I’m perfect.  He is sweet and loving and loves me just the way I am.

Me, on the other hand, I have an EXTREME love/hate relationship with my body.  One day I’m happy and content with what I’ve got.  I love my curvy hips, large bottom and small waist.  I love my strong calves, slim arms and round face.  Then, BAM!, the next day I HAVE everything physically about myself.  All I see is the cellulite on my thighs, the pooch of my belly and my not-so-adorable saddle bags I carry with me everywhere.

It’s not just my husband I make crazy, it’s me.  I hate that I’m this way.  Why can’t I be happy with what I have?  Why must I be so vain and critical of myself?  Why am I this way?

I don’t know the answer to these  questions but I do know I’ve got to stop my body loathing.  If not for myself then for my sweet boys.

Today, whilst getting ready to go, I kept telling my husband I looked fat in this or that.  He rolled his eyes and told me I looked great.  I ran to the other room mid outfit change 2,000,000 and when I came back hubby asked if I’d heard what son #1 said.  I hadn’t and hubby told my my son, my sweet, skinny, adorable, perfect boy had slumped on the floor in my room and announced that he was fat.  FAT!?!  The kid is skin and bones.  And the blame for his comment falls squarely on my shoulders.

So that’s it.  I’m pledging to never, I repeat, NEVER say I’m fat again.  I can’t promise that those thoughts won’t pop into my mind.  I can’t promise that I won’t FEEL fat but I can control the words that my children hear coming out of my mouth.