The Twisted Maven

Featured

Things to do While You Stay the F**k at Home (to keep your sanity and yourself and your loved ones safe)

What is there not to get? Stay the f**k at home!

“Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.” – William Shakespeare

There are strange times.

I haven’t left the house in sevenfortyteenpotato weeks, except to stock my parent’s fridge and pantry before they returned from Florida, and a couple of Sunday drives. I’m exhausted, my roots now indicate that I am WAY more grey than I thought I was, my hands are red and raw from constant washing, I eat a lot of snacks, and ooof, my poor liver. At least two of those things were already going on before COVID-19. I’ll leave it to you to guess which two.

So you could say that it’s been pretty serious between me and this whole shelter-in-place/self-quarantine/social distancing thing. So serious, in fact, that I have been REALLY frustrated with people flouting the requirements and recommendations coming our way daily.

I saw a little piece on social media about not judging people who are just trying to go about their normal lives in order to save their sanity during this pandemic. Something about some lady who needs to buy something non-essential so she’s not depressed, and something else about some guy who needs to buy something else non-essential so he doesn’t drink, something about don’t judge people who are trying to cope by going out and doing completely unnecessary things and risking the health and well-being of everyone they come in contact with, and themselves.

I commented; maybe I shouldn’t have, and usually I don’t, but I did. I respectfully disagreed (well, I SAID I respectfully disagreed, anyway), and noted that there is hardly anything that people cannot buy online during this time, and that there are so many other things to do besides going out and shopping for things that aren’t critical to survival. I suggested reading, walking in the woods, contacting family via Skype or Zoom or FaceTime, learning a new skill by watching videos online, getting virtual therapy, etc. My main point being that going out and about shopping for things is selfish and dangerous.

Holy moly, did I get blasted. How dare I! The responses mostly brought up grocery shopping, which I was definitely not referring to. I was accused of privileged thinking, because some people may not have the means to buy goods online. Someone replied that, hardly anyone in their town has been diagnosed and no one has died, so even though they’re immuno-compromised, they were going to continue go out and do will make them happy. And of course the guy who simply said: Jennifer, that’s BS. While I’m not exactly sure what he meant by that, I’ll just say YOU’RE BS, Mark. Whatever.

Lots of I/me/mine in those responses. Which kind of proved my point. Look, I am finding this just as difficult, heartbreaking, frightening and frustrating as anyone else. Has this taken a toll on my mental health? Is it difficult? Do want to curl up into a ball and not surface until this is all over? Yes, yes and YES. However, what I’m *not* going to do is go out into the world to do unnecessary things in an attempt to make myself “feel better”. I’m staying home, doing whatever I can do to cope, because the risks exponentially outweigh the benefits.

I did some thinking, some research, and came up with a small list of things one can do to occupy any free time* they may have instead of leaving the house and endangering themselves, their loved ones, and complete strangers.

*I understand that many, many people don’t actually have more free time right now, they have less (myself included). Maybe some of these activities would occupy your kids when they finish their remote learning by 2pm and you have a work deadline, or when you find yourself itching to get back to your weekend Bed Bath and Beyond/Home Depot/Target runs.

Sleep. Not an easy option for parents of young kids, but for the rest of us? Take that nap! Sleep in! Go to bed early instead of forcing yourself to tackle that one more task!
Listen to podcasts while you’re cleaning, cooking, folding laundry, staring into space waiting for this all to be over. Some of my favorites include:
- You Are Not So Smart
- How To (with Charles Duhigg, author of The Power of Habit)
- Anything from Crooked Media, including Pod Save America, With Friends Like These, and Lovett or Leave It. (Qualifier: these are mostly political podcasts that lean heavily left, but if that’s your jam, then you will find them as equally informative and amusing as I do.)
- ologies
- Stuff You Should Know
Clean up your emails. As of the moment that I am typing this, I have 66,669 unread emails in my main personal account. So if you have sent me an email to my yahoo account at any point in the past 5 years, and I haven’t responded, you might want to resend. Also, I will, at some point, take the time to unsubscribe and delete stuff.
Spoil yo’self. I know I’m talking to a specific demographic here, but you know the hand treatments, facemasks, bathbombs, nail polishes, hair dyes, foot lotions, makeup you’ve bought but never used? USE THEM. Well, check the expiry dates first…although I’ve found that those are generally just a suggestion.
Color. Remember a couple of years ago when adult coloring became a thing? If you do, then you likely have a coloring book or two, plus some markers or colored pencils or crayons sitting on a shelf or in a closet somewhere. It is a soothing activity, almost meditative if you allow it to be. Also, you can find all sorts of free coloring pages on the internet, if you have access to a printer! Check out Crayola’s site for coloring pages for kids, Just Color for pages for older kids/adults, or hit up Pinterest.
Since we’re pretty much not allowed to go anywhere, what better time to plan your dream vacation? My favorite travel blog is We3Travel; it not only covers the usual family destinations, but it’s got TONS of information on unique destinations. It’s also got gorgeous photography, honest reviews, must-see/do/eat lists, trips by type (e.g., Mother-Daughter trips, Family trips), links to other travel sites AND a free downloadable vacation planner for kids. Incorporate geography and social studies into your children’s remote learning, without them even knowing it!
Are you a reader? Goodreads is a treasure trove of book lists, reviews, and connection to other bibliophiles. Prefer e-books? Check out BookBub for daily deals, recommendations, and author updates and info. Some of the books they offer daily deals on are as low as FREE, hello! Chirp is the same concept, but for audiobooks. Your local library also likely has e-book borrowing.
PURGE! Tackle one room at a time, and decide what to keep, what to donate, what to recycle and what to toss. Click here for my take on purging and organizing.
Learn a new language or brush up on your high school French. Duolingo is one of the most popular free online language learning platforms and is widely used even by schools so kids can practice at home. Bilingua is also a free platform, which operates as a “language exchange”, pairing up people who want to learn each other’s languages. If you want to invest in language learning software, there is also Rosetta Stone, which has price points ranging from around $10/month for 2-years of access to $299 for unlimited, unending access.
Bummed that your favorite personal athletic events are being cancelled all over the place? Some race organizers have transitioned to a virtual platform, where you will still receive your bib and bling, but you have to self-report. Other venues are offering highly discounted or free virtual races.
Do good deeds. Check in on an elderly neighbor. Draw/write positive messages on your driveway or sidewalk. Sew facemasks for medical workers. Support restaurants by ordering takeout and tip generously. Donate to local non-profits, who are being hit really hard during this time.

Coloring page courtesy of Girls on the Run International; awesome coloring job by yours truly.

Lastly, just stay home as much as humanly possible. The sooner we get through this, the sooner we get through this. What I’m saying is, don’t be a selfish turd. Stay safe, stay healthy, STAY HOME!!!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe

The Twisted Maven

©The Twisted Maven, 2020

Featured

Puppy Love

“Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.” – Agnes Sligh Turnbull

Once upon a time, I met a guy, we fell in love, bought a house, and decided to take the next natural, albeit huge, step in our relationship.

We decided to adopt a dog. Well, look into adopting a dog, anyway. We planned on doing some window shopping at the Connecticut Humane Society. My then-boyfriend (now-husband), who has tried to convince himself for the 20+ years that we’ve been together that he is somehow in charge of things, made me repeat after him, “We are NOT getting a dog today. We are JUST looking.”

We were greeted by the friendly crew at the Humane Society and offered the chance to see the dogs and cats they had available for adoption. I saw one dog that I fell in love with right away; she reminded me of my very first dog, Ruby. Ruby was a beagle/collie mix, with a long snout and floppy ears and a beautiful soft coat and a similarly beautiful temperament. This dog looked so similar to Ruby and I just knew she was destined to be my new best friend.

We kept walking and looking, but none of the other dogs we saw really grabbed me. Then I saw a scrappy looking dog, with a wiry coat of black and grey fur, with some unusual brown striping. She was smallish, with these really intelligent eyes. She walked up to the door of her kennel, and when I said crouched down to say hi and offered her my hand, she looked at me with those wise eyes and gave me a tentative sniff and a gentle lick.

While my heart was still pulling me to the New Ruby, we asked if we could spend a few minutes with this particular pup. The Humane Society worker brought us into an office equipped with a desk, chair, computer and a couple of chairs, with a concrete floor and cinderblock walls. As I remember it, we were asked some questions and given some information. They asked if this dog would be the only other member of our family, because, as an energetic terrier, she needed to be. We weren’t even married yet, and truly hadn’t decided if we wanted children, so we shrugged and said, sure. They brought her in, and then left and closed the door behind them.

The sweet, shy dog who gave me the puppy dog eyes and sweetly licked my hand became a complete maniac the second that door closed. She started running between us, crashing into the walls, jumping on all of the furniture, tongue hanging out, refusing to be calmed, and then took a giant crap in the middle of the floor.

We looked at each other, wide-eyed, with this little Tasmanian devil of a dog bouncing between us, and started laughing. I shrugged, and said, well, she picked me…

We finished the interview process, during which we were assured that she would calm down once she was in a stable environment, and would certainly never be bigger than 35 pounds or so (this is what they call foreshadowing, folks), and we took our new pup and went on our way.

We decided to name her Ashley. Actually, I decided to name her Ashley, after my childhood best friend. See how “in charge” he is?

One of the first things a friend said, was “Look at the size of her paws, they’re HUGE. And she kind of looks like an Irish Wolfhound.” I was like, oh ha ha, you’re so funny. They TOLD US she was not going to grow much more. Plus, they called her a TERRIER.

Fast forward a year. Ashley never got the hang of leash walking, but loved other dogs, our friends and family, and tearing around the yard. She had also almost tripled in size, and going from 25 to 70 pounds, all long legs and muscle.

She had her favorites, for sure. She would greet the people she loved most at the door by running at us, full speed, grinning and snorting. Most of the time, we were able to dodge her assault and save our knees, which meant that she would go crashing headlong into the door.

Ashley truly lived as if she were a tiny dog; she charged and leapt at everything and everybody, leading to her nickname, “Smashley”. I called her Ashley Underfoot, because wherever I was, so was she, looking for belly rubs and snacks.

Ashley changed a bit once the kids came along. She was no longer everybody’s friend, and became quite protective of me and the girls. She didn’t want to know anyone she didn’t already know, and made that very clear.

With one, and then two young kids, I didn’t have the patience or time that I used to have with Ashley; she sunk all the way to the bottom of my priority list, and I considered her, more than once, quite a nuisance. We could no longer have people over without confining her, because she would either knock little ones over with her enthusiasm, or act hostile. The very worst moment came when Ashley met my future sister-in-law, who at one time worked in an actual zoo, and was very comfortable around animals of all kinds. She bent down to greet Ashley, at the very same moment Ashley leapt up to gave her a warning, and teeth met face. I was devastated and humiliated, my brother (rightly so) was completely pissed, but my SIL-to-be handled the incident with grace, aplomb, and forgiveness. To this day, if it ever comes up in conversation, she still treats it as no big deal.

But aside from the occasion that Ashley’s behavior needed to be managed, life continued along as usual. She never made the slightest hostile move toward my kids, she was always gentle with them and patiently waited by their chairs for them to drop food. She continued to curl up beneath my husband’s feet in his home office, wipe her face on the couches after she ate, charge the door at full speed, snorting and grinning, when it opened, startle herself when farting, eating anything she could manage to get to when no one was looking (which included an entire bowl of wrapped chocolates, all of the grease in the bottom of the turkey pan at Thanksgiving, half of a gingerbread house that had been painstakingly assembled by a 6 year old, and untold amounts of food that had fallen to the floor or were just lying on the table), and barking at every passing person, vehicle, squirrel and leaf blowing across the lawn.

And the years went on. Ashley continued to be a pain in the ass, but she was MY pain in the ass. I resigned myself to the fact that she was going to be with us for a long, long time, because mutt.

And of course, the inevitable. She was peculiarly low energy for a couple of days, but bounced back with a vengeance. Never lost her appetite, just seemed kind of…tired. Those eyes of hers locked with mine at me on a Friday afternoon, so I sat down on the floor and she scooted forward and put as much of herself as she could onto my lap. I snuggled her, which actually hadn’t happened for awhile between us (not to worry, she got plenty of loving from the kids). Then she seemed fine.

And then she wasn’t. Turned out that Ashley’s insides were riddled with cancer, which she had likely lived with for a while, until she just couldn’t any longer. She hung on to protect us, to love us, and to be loved by us. It wasn’t until that one particular week that she gave any indication that something was wrong.

As much as I grumbled that this dog was never going to die, she did. Well before I was ready. It’s been years, and sometimes, when I open the door, I find myself stopping for that split second, waiting to hear her paws scrabbling on the floor, waiting to see that silly grin, waiting to smell her breath and all her dogginess coming at me.

She lives on my mantel (well, her remains do); the cremation service also took a plaster paw print. Which, upon inspection, contained a tuft of her paw hair. Which just grossed me out to no end. I couldn’t throw it out, so that canister lives somewhere buried in the attic.

Since Ashley died, whenever the topic of getting another dog has come up, my stock response was that I wasn’t ready. The level of emotional pain I experienced when she died took me by surprise. That it also caused my kids pain just compounded my focus on the feelings of loss and sorrow that seem to be the inevitable part of being a pet owner.

All this to say, I’ve been feeling the pull lately. My two kids are now tween and teen-aged. The house is quieter, calmer. I feel it; this home is missing a dog. And my focus has shifted; yes, it was so painful to lose Ashley. But there were also those 12 years of joy, amusement, play, snuggles, care, and love.

Which, finally, brings me to my quest for information, and I’m hoping that you all can help me out. Currently, I live on a busy through-street with no sidewalks and barely a shoulder, and people drive by in excess of 10-20 mph over the speed limit. Cause people are jerks. My yard isn’t fenced and backs up to several acres of woods, which contain deer, bears, bobcats, foxes, coyotes, and probably Freddy Krueger. One of the things that I really feel like I failed at with Ashley was the ability to get her enough exercise, because she was a big dog with so much energy to expend.

So I suppose what I’m looking for is a smallish, medium energy dog, who doesn’t shed too much and has a calm and friendly disposition. I’m not looking for a purebred, and I’m not opposed to a senior dog, although I would prefer a younger dog, but maybe not a puppy? Is that like asking for a unicorn? I really don’t know. And cost…for perspective, when Ashley was adopted, it was $65, which included first round vaccines and spaying. From that to a fee of $350 or more that I see on some websites just gives me pause. However, I acknowledge that I am completely ignorant regarding the current structure and cost of running rescue/shelter organizations.

So please, educate me. What are your favorite organizations? What type of dog or mutt mix do you favor or recommend? What should I be wary of? Do you have preferred training methods or resources? What is a reasonable cost for adoption, and what level is too low or too high?

My brain can’t imagine loving a four-legged creature more or even as much as I loved Ashley. But my heart feels like it’s ready to do just that.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe

The Twisted Maven

©The Twisted Maven, 2020

Featured

Don’t Pick Your Nose, Dummy

“Serious illness doesn’t bother me for long because I am too inhospitable a host.” – Albert Schweitzer

While I strive for all of my posts to be evergreen, this topic is just too new and timely to ensure that. However, I think it’s still pretty fricking important to lay down some facts, dispel some myths, and hopefully start a conversation.

Yes, I’m talking about COVID-19, aka The Corona Virus. In case you’ve been avoiding the news, which is somewhat understandable, or living under a rock, which is less understandable, allow me to offer you a brief history of the Corona Virus.

COVID-19, The Corona Virus, is also referred to as a novel, or new virus. It was first identified in Wuhan, Hubei Province, China in December 2019, and the virus is actually named SARS-CoV-2, with the resulting disease being what is widely called The Corona Virus.

Initially, it was thought that there was an animal-to-human spread of the virus, due to many of the initial patients having a link to a large seafood/animal market. However, as the virus has spread, it has been largely human-to-human transmission. And boy, how it has spread.

Globally, as of this posting, COVID-19 has been confirmed in 80+ countries throughout the world. The CDC is updating the list frequently for global confirmation of detections of COVID-19, as well as updating information related to COVID-19 in the United States at noon every Monday through Friday.

Of course, with anything that is happening that has a lot of unknowns, such as The Corona Virus, there will be conspiracy theories and idiotic hypotheses and myths that somehow, in this age of the internet, gain some traction. I’d like to share, and put a hard stop to, some of the more potentially harmful and/or ridiculous false information making the rounds:

You can protect yourself against The Corona Virus by gargling with bleach.
- OMG don’t do this. Ever. You could die.
You can catch Corona Virus by eating Chinese take-out.
- No, no you can’t.
You can make your own hand sanitizer with vodka.
- You need an alcohol content of 60% or more in your hand sanitizer to kill bacteria and germs. Most vodkas have 40% alcohol. Listen to the advice from Tito’s, and save your vodka to drink if you end up quarantined.
Other vaccines, such as the flu and pneumonia vaccines, will protect you against COVID-19.
- Different virus requires a different vaccine, which isn’t available yet. So, no.
You can catch Corona Virus from your pet.
- For fuck’s sake, NO.

To say that the highest levels of U.S. government have not really provided any substantial, comforting, factual or informative guidance would be a gross understatement. Yeah, I’m going to get a little political here. The people who should be leading our country and be concerned with the health and welfare of it’s citizens are instead grossly focusing perceived optics.

The President, while he did sign a bill allowing for $8.3 billion dedicated to COVID-19, I do have yet to see what that looks like. And he has made continual comments trying to throw doubt on the actual affects and potential consequences of the Corona Virus.

He doesn’t want a cruise ship with U.S. citizens aboard to be allowed to dock, because that would drive up the numbers of Corona Virus in the U.S. He put Vice President Pence in charge of the response to Corona Virus; a man who not only cannot be in a room with a woman he is not related to unsupervised, but also contributed to a HIV outbreak in Indiana when he was Governor there, due to his refusal to allow a safe needle exchange program.

And then, we have the awkward and angering public appearances by the President, desperately trying to get someone, anyone, to agree with him that a vaccine will be ready in weeks (it won’t), blaming an entire political party for Corona Virus, and undermining the factual statements of actual doctors and scientists.

I could go on for DAYS about how the U.S. federal government has totally mucked up the response to COVID-19, but I’ll stop there.

Personally, as a person who had a recent bout of pneumonia that has resulted in prolonged head and chest congestion and daily management of asthma symptoms, I am aware that COVID-19, the Corona Virus, could kill me. It’s unlikely, but it’s still a possibility.

So here’s what we do:

WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS.
- Often. All the time. With soap and water.
Capture your sneezes and coughs. Into a strong tissue or your elbow, facing AWAY from people.
Keep your hands OFF your face and your fingers OUT OF your nose.
DON’T PANIC and clear the shelves of your local grocery of TP and hand sanitizer.
DON’T take or steal shit from your doctor’s office, medical clinics, or the hospital. Don’t take face masks, hand sanitizer, or tissues without permission and definitely not if you don’t absolutely need them. Our medical professionals need access to those items more than you do.
Keep in touch with any neighbors, friends or family who are vulnerable, as well as organizations who serve those populations. Your stockpile of cleaning supplies could really help someone else out. Keep your eyes and ears open for opportunities to help out with your overstock. I don’t believe in karma or good deed points getting you closer to heaven, but doing the right thing is a huge reward unto itself.
Be kind. Be patient, assume positive intent, and understand that things that you don’t consider a big deal could indeed be a very big deal to someone else. In other words, don’t be an asshole.

Lastly, just be safe. Be smart. Be aware. And yeah, WASH YA HANDS!!!

Until next time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Featured

New Year New…Ah, Nevermind.

Pretty accurate representation of how I looked most of January 2020.

“Every New Year is the direct descendant, isn’t it, of a long line of proven criminals?” – Ogden Nash

I know, it’s ~~the end of January~~ already the middle of February and here I am mentioning the “New Year”. I also know it’s been more than two months since my last post, which can be akin to a death knell for a blog.

But not to worry. I’m still here, still thinking, ranting, working, doing shit, and even writing.

And this is all despite a super crappy beginning to 2020, which has left me anywhere from 2 to 300 weeks behind on any and everything on my to-do list.

How crappy was the beginning of the year? Well, let me tell you. The first few days of 2020 started out okay, winter break ended, the kids went back to school after we managed not to inflict any permanent damage upon each other. And then…(insert dramatic swell of music here)

I got a cold on January 3rd. Or what I thought was a cold. A really BAD cold. Sneezing and coughing and snotting SO MUCH. Aches. Slight fever. Fatigue. The flu? Maybe. I decided the best thing I could do was rest and stay away from humanity for a couple of days. And see if a hot toddy or three would help.

Things seemed to be improving by Monday morning. I was able to get up, work, do laundry and function semi-normally. And then (insert an even more intense dramatic swell here)…

I tanked, and badly, by the end of the day. After repeating that Mom Mantra of “I’M FINE” for several hours, I reluctantly agreed to go to urgent care. The rest of my family was kind of excited because they were going to the Moe’s next door for burritos. I exacted my revenge on them by swiping a pen from the urgent care reception desk. I mean, the receptionist said I could keep it after I coughed all over it, and I figured it would be rude to not accept. (side note: there will be more on my infatuation with and collection of free pens at a later date).

My evaluation revealed that I, in fact, had pneumonia. Which I was verrrrrry skeptical about. I’ve gotten colds and bronchitis and that kind of crap, but pneumonia? For reals?? While I was yeah yeah, ok’ing the doctor, I insisted for the 27th time that day that I was FINE. And I was too busy to have pneumonia! I have work and bathrooms to clean and a writing workshop to attend tomorrow, so this pneumonia would have to just go away and leave me alone.

The doctor laughed at me and said, you’re not going to feel like doing anything. Cancel all your plans for the rest of the week, and maybe next week as well.

She wasn’t kidding. By the next morning, when I thought I should be feeling better, I instead felt like I had been slammed to the ground, beaten up, and knifed through my abdomen. With mucus pouring out of my face, and lungs that needed to be frequently and painfully cleared by coughing.

So here we are, ~~at the end of January 2020,~~ already in February 2020, whether you believe it’s a new decade this year or next. I’ve already told January to suck an egg. Which I wish I could have done sooner, of course, but here we are.

Will things magically transform with a flip of the calendar page? Not likely. And not only because I keep staring at the blank space on the wall that should be occupied by the 2020 calendar that I’m now two months behind in designing and ordering. It also has to do with the box of “Holiday Cheer and Happy New Year” cards have been languishing on the counter since the end of December. The silver lining is that it’s not going to matter what photos I put on the January page of the calendar, and the cards are so late in going out that it really doesn’t matter if I get them mailed next week or July.

The takeaway from all of this, for me, is that nothing is predictable or guaranteed. Don’t ever get used to things running smoothly or thinking things are going your way. The person who is able to dance between the raindrops and land, unscathed, on their feet will never be you, so you might as well accept it.

So what to do about that? Plan for every conceivable challenge? Look for every sign that adversity is coming? Catastrophize all the things? Sure, go ahead. I won’t be joining you in that effort. You’d be better off letting the knowledge that there are just things that happen in one lifetime that you will have no control over, sink in and become part of your subconscious.

What I mean is, YES, of course, have your contingency plans. If you can, have that extra cash stashed away, equip your cars with emergency kits, make sure you have water, non-perishable food and fuel stockpiled in your home, have legal things documented and accessible. But know that one cannot possibly account for every single way that any and every single day can go well or completely sideways.

Know that there may be those days, those moments, those periods of time when nothing in your life experience and knowledge base applies, and where you will have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to do next, or after that, or even after that.

I mean, shit happens, right?

Shit sure does happen, mostly when you least expect it, and always has the absolute worst timing.

Lest you think I’m being all gloom and doom, a Debbie Downer, a storm of despondency, or a Negative Nellie, let me tell you: I could look at the beginning of 2020 as a chunk of time lost; lament the hours I wasn’t able to work, bemoan the housework and home maintenance that was left undone, be pissy about the extra effort I have to put in at work and home to catch up. But I’m not doing any of those things.

The beginning of this calendar year hasn’t been what I expected or could have in any way anticipated. But more thoughts were thunk and more plans were made and more epiphanies were experienced than would have been possible otherwise. I have no regrets or rueful emotions; in fact, I’m rather looking forward to how the beginning of 2020 can inform how I approach not only the rest of the year, but the rest of my life.

How about you, dear reader? How is this year shaping up for you? Are you looking to maintain your status quo or change things up? Have you faced any unexpected challenges? Have you adopted a new attitude, new goals, or both? What words of wisdom would you most like to pass along? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Until Next Time,

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Featured

Nobody Told Me

“Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance” – Confucius

There were so many things I didn’t know intuitively about doing this adult thing, and now that I’ve experienced a great deal of them, I find myself wishing I still didn’t know about some of them. While adding years to your life can bring some wonderful moments, increased wisdom, and additional inner peace, there are definitely some things that have happened along the way that have given me pause. And I don’t mean menopause.

I put the following question out to the universe recently: what weren’t you told about being an adult, that you wish someone, anyone, had prepared your for? The responses I received were equally humorous, poignant, thought-provoking and heartbreaking.

So let’s break it down, shall we?

General Adulting:

There are no “How To Grownup” preparatory classes in high school or college. When you’re growing up, you think Adulthood is this fantastic party where you can do WHATEVER you want, WHENEVER you want.

I remember a conversation with my college BFF during our Senior year; we were both like, wow, it will be great when we graduate and can get jobs and pay for stuff and don’t have to go to class and eat bologna sandwiches on stale bread and drink cheap beer. And that’s what we did; we exchanged late nights for early mornings, rent for mortgages, internships for careers, and the single life to looking around asking ourselves, when did THIS (careers, houses, spouses, kids, MINIVANS) all happen?

When you become an adult, you need to figure out, and do, ALL the things. You need to work out things such as how to manage your time and finances, how to socialize, how to advance your career, how to clean and cook and, you know, grown-up things.

If you own a car, you have to pay attention to maintenance and repairs. Blowing up your car engine, because you didn’t realize those oil change reminders actually meant something, is a really expensive lesson to learn.

The same goes for home ownership. I heard from people who were just astounded at the amount of time and expense that goes into simple maintenance, let alone anything extra. This is definitely an area that I was naive about, to the point of immense regret of thinking I could be solely responsible for the upkeep and maintenance of an actual building and the land associated with it. The fact that the inside of my house generally looks like the aftermath of Armageddon is a consequence of kids and time/space management, and can be remedied relatively quickly. However, the faded front door color, the weed (not the good kind) garden I’ve nurtured via complete disregard, the kitchen drawers that stick, and the cobwebs that accumulate in the corners…just ugh.

Another thread of comments I received was about expectations vs. reality. The fact that a college degree does not, in fact, guarantee a person a decent income. Which is a double whammy when one has put themselves into a decade or two of student loan debt. Growing apart from friends that you thought would always be in your day-to-day existence. The wish that one had been encouraged to follow their heart, their dreams and their passions, instead of trying to conform to societal expectations. The realization that upon reaching adulthood, one does not, in fact, automatically get their shit together.

And then there’s the good things people didn’t know; like when you say “no” and nobody kills or even hates you, and you finally understand that that one word is an acceptable and absolute answer to many questions in life. Another one is the realization that it is reasonable and even respectable to re-invent yourself, start over, ask for a re-do; because life does not have to be the same-old, same-old once you turn 30, 50, 75, or beyond.

Marriage and Romantic Relationships:

Most of what I heard is that nobody tells you how freaking HARD it is to be married. That people change over time, and what may have brought two people together in their 20’s (or at any age) has absolutely no bearing on or relevance to who those two people are in their 30’s, 40’s, and beyond. The stressors, that no one thinks of when they’re planning their wedding, take so many people by surprise. Whether it’s having kids, having difficulty or not being able to have kids, one partner not wanting kids while the other wants them more than anything, career changes, leaving the workforce, relocation, or change of financial status, the list of potential big changes and challenges to a married couple goes on and on and on. There have been those couples who struggled and ultimately split up, those who have struggled and stayed together, those who have found true happiness the second time around, those who have lost their spouses to disease or accidents before they were ready, those who truly have never met their match, and those who have decided that marriage or other long-term relationships are just not for them.

A sub-topic of this that I got input about, that is even more complicated, is abusive relationships. Even the realization that one is in an abusive relationship can be astoundingly difficult to accept. I lack the expertise to weigh in on this topic, but I believe the person who stated that an abuser won’t change.

Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Post-Childbirth:

The farting. This definitely caught me by surprise, and I’m not the only one.

Hemorrhoids. As one friend put it, they’re not very funny when they’re attached to YOUR asshole.

The distraction. My squirrel brain, formerly rather orderly, came out full force when I was pregnant, and has never quite returned to it’s former calm sta-crap, I forgot to make lunches again. Is there any clean laundry? Where are my glasses? What is that smell?

Many women (and men) were not totally prepared for childbirth. When there is SO MUCH information out there, how is that even possible? My guess is that one can gather as much knowledge as humanly possible about every single kind of birth scenario, but our brains aren’t capable of preparing us for every single kind of birth scenario. This is why so many expectant parents make birth plans. We WANT things to be orderly and we WANT to be in control. And with giving birth, truly, anything can happen. How many of you, or friends of yours, have had emergency C-sections? Or were in active labor for hours and hours and hours, and then more hours? Almost gave birth before getting to the hospital or before the doctor, midwife, or doula arrived?

Personally, I was fortunate in that the events of birthing my two babies were relatively easy, albeit wildly different. One baby plodded out of my uterus on her own time, in an event that was calm, relatively pain-free (once I got that epidural!) and exactly as planned, but it seemed to take forever (okay, don’t hate me, but it was really only a matter of a few hours). My second baby arrived as many days early as her sister arrived late, and her arrival was more like Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining, making her entrance by bursting through and nearly demolishing the doorway, scaring the shit out of everybody, and leaving a bloody mess in her wake. But at least it was over quickly.

One of the biggest surprises of giving birth for some was the fact that they pushed out something extra along with a baby. For those of you who don’t know because you haven’t forced an entire human out your bajingo…just think about it for a sec. The birther is exerting herself beyond anything otherwise reasonable, and the entirety of her digestive system has been squished into any available space around this tiny human’s incubator. So, yeah, poop can, and does, happen.

One friend chose to tell me about it via a direct message. On which she inadvertently cc’d her daughter, the one who caused the birth poop. When my friend realized her mistake and was OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD-ing, I was literally on the floor, howling with laughter, and the Birth Poop daughter was completely nonplussed. My hope is that now she’ll be better prepared for childbirth that her mom was, should she ever find herself in that situation.

The fact that sneezing (or coughing, or jumping, or any sudden movements) are never quite conducted after giving birth (or after a woman turns 40, whichever comes first) without a moment of self-check in, and sometimes an awkward knees-and-thighs-squeezed-together sprint to the bathroom.

Parenting:

The input I got about this category was wide-ranging and substantial, so I’ve made a few sub-categories. Except the two categories which are Sleep and Going to the Bathroom Alone. Neither of those things happen once you give birth. They know and they will find you, in your deepest dreams or your most urgent need to use the toilet, with something absolutely earth shattering, like “Hi Mama, watcha doin?” or “Ma! Whats for dinner?”.

Parenting Little Boys: They pee everywhere. Except into the toilet. They feel the need to stretch their penises like taffy when they are toddlers. Boy pee has been sniffed out, felt, and cleaned up from the most unlikeliest of places

Parenting Little Girls: They scream a lot. Like a LOT a lot. And a lot of time is spent teaching daughters how to wipe themselves front to back (aka, don’t sweep the dirt back into the kitchen).

Parenting Bigger Boys: They still pee everywhere. And they can make you angrier than you ever thought possible. And can also make you prouder than you ever thought you could be.

Parenting Bigger Girls: They still scream a lot. And they can also make you angrier than you ever thought possible. And after the screaming is done, there are those hugs and tears as you pull them close and never want to let them go.

General Parenting (for all ages):

There is a LOT of guilt and fear.

Every stupid and inappropriate thing we say is repeated by our littles, usually at the worst moments possible. Like quoted verbatim, in front of my mother.

We all have moments when we realize that we have totally lost our former selves, and we decide to do something about that, or not.

We feel totally stupid trying to help with math homework.

We feel judged, no matter our situation. If you’re a SAHM, you feel the shade your working sisters are throwing your way; if you are a working mother, you feel the side-eye directed at you from the SAHMs because you aren’t involved enough with your kids’ school and extra-curricular activities (sidenote: those feelings of being judged are likely all in your head; most of the moms I know feel judged, but don’t judge).

You’ve felt real anger about a child that you know only by name whom you are convinced is tormenting your child. But then, you also wonder if you are doing enough to raise your child to be compassionate and kind, because what if they aren’t?

And oh…those times when you’re not sure if you’re cut out for this parenting gig, you’re not sure if you love them enough…and they do something that brings you to your knees with gratitude and the knowledge that yes, you are enough.

Aging/Getting Older:

Another category that I received a ton of feedback on. So here goes:

You reach the point where hangovers last days instead of hours.

You realize how dysfunctional your upbringing actually was.

You come to the painful understanding that adulthood can be extremely lonely.

You mentally still feel like you’ve barely graduated college, and here you are trying to work and spouse and parent, and you are wondering who actually thought it was a good idea for you to be trusted with this level of responsibility.

You have little or no tolerance for anyone’s bullshit, and you finally shed the expectations you thought were foisted upon you. And if it affects your friendships or family relationships, so be it.

Acknowledging not only the “firsts” but the “lasts”. As in, this is the last year in my 40’s. This is the last time I’m going to drop my kid off at elementary school. This is the last mortgage payment I’m going to make. This is the last year my child is going to believe in Santa Claus.

Aging in general comes with no manual. Injuries and inconveniences earlier in your life can come back with significant and limiting consequences. You may feel like you’re 35, but one look in the mirror tells you a very different story. Staring at your reflection and thinking that you look tired, and then realizing that this is just your look now (raises hand).

Having the responsibility of caring for and/or about your aging parents or grandparents. There is no tried-and-true guidance for making the tough decisions or dealing with inevitable declines that happen as our parents and grandparents grow old.

So there it is. Some of it, anyway. As for myself, I may never get this whole being a grownup thing totally nailed down, but it’s not for a lack of trying. And when I put my question out to the universe, I was amazed and encouraged by how many people experience the same thoughts and feelings.

So what about you? What resonated with you, and what can you tell me that no one told you about? Please feel free to leave a comment! And if you liked this post, please share!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

© The Twisted Maven, 2019

Featured

Serendipity.

“Serendipity: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for” – Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Sure, I have written a bit about the dissolution of my former career. And I can say with confidence, that yes, I am definitely happier now than I was during the majority of that 20+ year consulting career. However, the separation from that career, and from my last job in that career, was not without significant cost and a lot of feelings.

Maybe I’ll detail all those feelings and costs in a future post, but for now, suffice to say that the loss of my job, the loss of a schedule, the loss of income, the loss of status as a full-time working parent was a pretty big blow to my psyche.

But amidst my floundering and existential crisising and organizing and napping and stay-at-home momming, there have been all these “and then…” moments that can only be described as serendipity. For example, I wasn’t looking to work with kids, I didn’t have a burning desire to coach anything, I wasn’t dying to make connections within my community…and then…

Serendipity happened, because Girls on the Run happened.

Three years ago, I started my first season as a coach for Girls on the Run in my community. We were one of four pilot programs for the newly formed Girls on the Run of Greater Hartford council.

To say I was nervous at the outset is an understatement. I’d never coached a team before. I’d never spent much time with tween girls. I didn’t know the two women I’d be coaching with, although between the two of them, they seemed to be friends with EVERYONE in our small town, a fact that my reticent and introverted self found intimidating. I didn’t consider myself capable of being inspirational, garnering respect or demonstrating strength. I mean, I’d just flunked out of my career, for shits’s sake! Oh, and I swear a lot.

Within the first few weeks, my apprehension turned to excitement and anticipation, which eventually evolved into confidence and appreciation and joy. The lessons that Girls on the Run strives to teach are so spot on with this age group, and these girls REALLY got it. And my co-coaches? They were simply amazing women whom I quickly came to view as friends, and continue to do so. The same goes for every single other person I’ve had the pleasure to coach with since that first season.

You see, the Girls on the Run program isn’t just about running. That first season, and every season since, we played games and set goals and ran, jogged, or walked laps. We had serious conversations about peer pressure, teamwork, support, strength, friendship and a lot of other issues that are helpful to girls in this stage of their lives. I was amazed by the depth and maturity of their thoughts and responses to some complex issues that they have dealt with or will deal with down the road. I also enjoyed their silliness and goofing around and the way kids just act like kids, with their lack of filters, their loudness and their laughter.

As it turns out, I really enjoy being around kids. Sharing the Girls on the Run lessons with the teams I coached was such a privilege. I was not only imparting some really useful knowledge to these girls, but I was also reinforcing and applying the concepts in my own life. And I found that I am certainly able to communicate with kids without using curse words. Woot!

And then…

After three years and six seasons as a Coach for Girls on the Run, I am now the Program Coordinator for Girls on the Run of Greater Hartford. With this position, I’ve been able to meld the management, organizational and mentoring capabilities I’d gained in my previous career with my knowledge of the Girls on the Run program and my desire to make the world a better place by helping women and girls feel confident, connected, capable, and empowered.

So, serendipity. I wasn’t looking for Girls on the Run, but we found each other, and we have both benefited. I say that statement as a humble truth, without caveats or qualifications. And now it’s time to send the message, as far and wide as I can, why I am, and will continue to be, so passionate about Girls on the Run:

Because I could have totally benefited from a program like this when I was in elementary and middle school. And I have heard the same exact thing from SO MANY other women who learn about Girls on the Run!
Because research and statistics demonstrate that Girls on the Run provides positive messages and boosts academic and social success for girls.
Because my ability to communicate with my daughters has improved after we all participated in the program.
Because I have witnessed how Girls on the Run can increase not only physical fitness, but also confidence, compassion, and teamwork.
Because Girls on the Run is an inclusive program for girls; no matter their financial status, ethnicity, geographic location, disabilities, sexual orientation or athleticism. This program is for EVERY GIRL.
Because I have been gifted with so many moments that have brought me to tears and cheers, due to the unifying, strengthening and amazing things that happen with and between Girls on the Run participants, even extending beyond practices and teams.
Because being a Girls on the Run coach has positively influenced my own life. It’s boosted my self-esteem, social abilities, and my connection to my community.
Because parent feedback has been overwhelmingly positive, and parents and girls are truly learning better ways to communicate with each other.
Because the teams are able to transcend cliques and grade groups, girls are able make friends who will support each other beyond the program.
Because there’s nothing better than a girl who is confident, compassionate, connected to her community, and believes she is capable of anything!

So there’s my tale of serendipity; what’s yours? Have you ever just found yourself taking a moment and appreciating something that you weren’t necessarily seeking, but that has brought you great joy?

If you’d like to learn more about Girls on the Run Greater Hartford, including how to become a volunteer or bring a site to your community, click here. And if you’re outside of the Greater Hartford, CT area and would like to learn more about Girls on the Run, including coaching and/or bringing a team to your area, click here.

Please comment below or send me an email, I’d love to hear from you about your serendipitous moments, your experience with or questions about Girls on the Run, and anything you’d like to see in future posts! And if you like what you’ve read, please share!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

©The Twisted Maven, 2019

Featured

The Time When My Baby Turned Ten

Ten seems to be the magical age, when your children are more formed than unformed…

“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

How is it that, having put a space of four years between my children, it seems that the milestones are occurring ever closer together? It feels like years, but also minutes, since I wrote about my oldest turning ten. That particular piece has been lost to the wind, maybe never to be retrieved. But in this case, it doesn’t matter, because my words to L the Younger don’t apply to L the Older, and vice versa.

Ten seems to be the magical age, when your children are more formed than unformed, and you can see glimpses of what their adult selves will be like, should everything go according to plan. I mean, nothing ever goes exactly according to plan, but you know what I mean. You can definitely sense who they are, in a larger sense.

My older girl, my ladybug, she has always been mature and not here for any bullshit. She is the kid who couldn’t wait to turn ten, then 13, now she’s 14 and in high school and I swear she’d skip right to college and beyond if she had the choice. Her personality was largely formed by the age of four, and I recognized then that her reticence, her determination that things were solidly either RIGHT or WRONG, and her ability to sense and absorb the thoughts and emotions of those around her would serve her well as she grew into adolescence and adulthood. I still feel that way. But navigating these teen years…well, that’s another post for another day, when I’m able to speak from a place of calm perspective. And that’s definitely not today.

But oh…my second child. My butterfly, who will extend affection to anyone who needs it, who only wants to see you smile, who wants to hug the world, who also easily absorbs the thoughts and emotions of those around her, but uses that gift very differently from her sister. Instead of using her sensitivity to lead, guide and advise, she uses it to comfort and humor those around her. She’s got charisma for days, along with a great capacity for love, a goofy sense of humor, and the desire to leave everyone she encounters a little bit happier than they were before.

However, she also wants what she wants exactly when she wants it, has no sense of time or urgency, and does not deal well with raised voices or even mildly harsh words.

She’s the emotional gauge of our household. If there’s any tension, she picks up on it, feels it acutely, and will act out because of it. If there’s joy, she embraces it wholeheartedly. If there’s anger, she gets sullen. If there is laughter, she’s right there in the middle of it. And she mostly does this without any knowledge of the context of these emotions.

She knows when I’m hurting, emotionally and/or physically, no matter my attempts to conceal that from her. Without fail, those are the moments that she comes to me with hugs, an invitation to read with her, and the need to be physically close to me.

She engages me in conversation, and always, and I mean ALWAYS, wants to talk about what’s going on in her world. School, American Ninja Warrior, Harry Potter, and America’s Got Talent are her favorite topics of discussion. Somehow, she makes these conversations engaging and analytical, as well as never-ending.

She is also an enthusiastic participant in activities outside of academics. She started playing the flute last year, and practices almost daily without being told. Sidenote: when her sister started taking guitar lessons, there was a demand that she stick to a practice schedule, and consequences when she didn’t. And lo and behold, she lost the desire to practice and her love for the instrument. So when L the Younger started with the flute, I let her set her practice schedule, and her love for music and the desire to improve has come along naturally. Lesson learned.

She just started her 5th season of Girls on the Run, which is also the first season that I haven’t been a coach. And by all reports, she is doing amazing, and likely much better than she was when I coached her team. She also loves basketball and lacrosse, mostly due to her sister’s influence, but I hope she embraces both of those sports going forward for herself.

Because she is my second-born, and because she’s still shorter than everyone else in my house, it’s sometimes a challenge not to think of her as a “little kid”, incapable of doing much of anything without my assistance. But, as she reminds me frequently, she is absolutely capable of doing many things without my assistance.

I can’t help but think, often, that I don’t deserve these two children to whom I gave birth to. I strive daily to be a good role model, a source of wisdom and comfort, and a good mom. I feel like they have outpaced me, already, in intelligence and in their desire to succeed in making the world a better place.

So to my “little” one, to my butterfly, to the one I wished for, for so long: these past 10 years have flown by, but I am grateful that I paused long enough to breathe in your baby moments, acknowledge the milestones that you’ve achieved thus far, had the ability to set a unsatisfactory career aside and participate more in your and your sister’s lives, and to show you what can be achieved when you follow your passions.

Also, I don’t want to put forth any platitudes about success, because they are mostly tied to monetary gain, and I want you to define for yourself what success looks like. I do hope, however, that success looks like exploring and finding what interests you, working hard, and being satisfied that you are a good human.

And lastly, thank you for all the love you give me, the challenges you throw my way, the time we spend together, your smarts, your chaos, your laughter, and for just being the best you that you can be.

I love you to the moon and back. Twice.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe

The Twisted Maven

Featured

Twisted Book Reviews

“If there is a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, you must be the one to write it.” – Toni Morrison

As a person who writes, and as a person who is fascinated by the human experience, there is little more precious to both of those interests than books. Aside from being alive and able to participate in both of those ventures, that is.

I have been blogging for several years, here and in other forums, passing along my opinions and truth and attempts at humor. But I’ve also been working for years on poor to mediocre poetry and bits and pieces of fiction that I am hoping to cobble into something publishable one day.

The one piece of advice that I have seen directed to aspiring authors, over and over and over again, from successful authors, advisors, editors and publishers: If you want to write, YOU MUST READ. A LOT.

Well guess what? I read. A lot. Not everyone does, and not everyone needs to, I suppose, although I wish everyone would.

I belonged to a book club once upon a time, made up mainly of women who belonged to a local country club, which I had neither the finances nor the desire to join. I was kind of shuttled through the back door by a couple of friends who knew I loved to read. And while I enjoyed the books and the wine and company…it just wasn’t quite my thing. Maybe it was because of my propensity for cursing and making inappropriate jokes… and to be honest, that was probably it, because that kind of stuff didn’t seem to fly with most of the ladies. Also, I didn’t get the references to their sandal or handbag designers, private schools, high end stores or country club gossip. I kind of felt like a novelty, like, Oh! Here’s L’s friend! The one who says “fuck” a lot! Isn’t she refreshing? Just, um…don’t engage her in too much conversation, especially if the kids are around, you know?

ANYWAY…after I birthed child #2, I dropped out of the book club, because I just couldn’t fit anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary in my life, so social engagements and volunteer work and anything besides work and kid stuff just had to go.

Now that my kids are older and I have a bit more time on my hands…no, I haven’t rejoined or joined any regular, in-person meeting, wine drinking and cheese consuming book clubs. I know there are clubs available through my local library and community, but really…I have learned to own my awkward and embrace the fact that I am just not comfortable going around asking to be part of things. But if I were to join another book club, it would have to be because I was extended an (preferably in cursive and hand-delivered) invitation to join a club that would provide someone with my personality a comfortable space, and to which I could be an equally contributing member.

That said, I do belong to a social media book group, which has helped me find some of the best books I’ve ever read, as well as providing me the ability to recommend, send and receive books with other members. This group also allows me to search, read and discuss books while sitting on my couch, in whatever I’m wearing, sans makeup or any other accoutrements. It’s social without social pressure. And yeah, I know, I need to get out of the house more often. You know I’m not going to extend myself, so send me an invite already. Or don’t. Cause I’m good sitting right here.

I needed to say all of that in order to get to this list. The Twisted Maven’s Partial List of Books Everyone Should Read and Why. Please peruse, and feel free to add your own opinions, recommendations, and invitations to join your book club (online or in person) below:

The Omnivore’s Dilemma – This book changed my entire relationship with food. Before this book, I gave zero fucks about the source of my food and barely understood the relationship between food and how the body uses it. Now, I do…give plenty of fucks about the source of my food and have a great understanding of how food=fuel. And how everyone should eat more plants.

The Storied Life of A.J. Fiskry – Oh goodness, what a story. I don’t know why, but I seem to be drawn to fiction about cranky older men connecting or reconnecting with their humanity and sensitivity. This is an unusual story about an unusual man, and thoroughly enjoyable.

The 100 year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared – Another piece of fiction about a cranky older, but really older, man. The main character is kind of like a Forest Gump, but Swiss, and therefore a lot of the history told through his experiences is very different from U.S. history.

11/22/63 – This was the first Stephen King novel I read, as I had long held the assumption that Mr. King was “just” a horror novelist who “just” wrote to appeal to the most pedestrian of readers. Turns out, I had missed a lot of amazing writing. This novel is long, includes a lot of historical events, and while yes, Mr. King is definitely King of the Macabre, he is a master of his trade as an author. This novel was so compelling and interesting and crazy and the work of a genius. I’ve since read several of his books, including “On Writing”, and have been thoroughly entertained, educated, shocked and inspired.

My Life on the Road – Gloria Steinhem has been the face of feminism since the 1960s, and has lead such an amazing life. The best parts of this book, for me, were her involvement in the feminist movement from the beginning, as well as her analysis of how our two main political parties have changed since the civil rights movement (spoiler alert: the “party of Lincoln” has been working up to their current iteration since getting evangelicals involved in the 1960s and 1970s).

On The Come Up – If you read or saw “The Hate U Give”, then you MUST read this book by Angela Davis. There is exactly zero that I can relate to personally with her character’s ages, environments and aspirations, but hell YES I can relate to the struggles of wanting to be a good human. And she gives such vivid descriptions about neighborhoods that are different but not so different from my own.

Dig – One of the best novels I’ve ever read. Period. It’s about family, youth, racism, death, fear, mysticism and love. I’ve never read a book quite like it, and I lack words to describe it, except that you should definitely read this book. And I want to take The Freak into my arms and love her forever.

Educated – I’ve seen a lot of comparisons to “The Glass Castle” with this book. And I could see the parallels in the first few chapters, but damn if things don’t get really fucked up, to the point where I don’t even know how any of the people in this memoir survived. Broader than “The Glass Castle” in the way it deals with personal complexities and individual conflicts.

The Last Reunion of the All Girl Filling Station – Fannie Flagg deserves so much credit than she’s been given as a storyteller, despite her name that makes my kids giggle. If you’re of a certain age, you certainly remember the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes”, based on a novel by Flagg. The book is better. And this book explores the complex relationships between mothers and daughters, family secrets, and the fortitude of women across the decades.

Lamb – One of my ALL TIME FAVORITE BOOKS. It’s the story of Jesus in the in-between years, as told by his best friend, Biff. Irreverent, to say the least. But it encompasses all religions and is laugh out loud funny in it’s attempt to explain what Jesus was up to between childhood and adulthood.

The Alchemist – just a classic tale about learning to follow your heart and listen to your dreams.

To Kill a Mockingbird – If one reads this book now, it’s still as chilling and suspenseful and entertaining as it was when it was published. Classic right vs. wrong, with losses on both sides, with the side of righteousness ultimately prevailing.

Mohawk – Richard Russo is another author that has tackled the worlds of cranky older men, as well as the worlds of disturbed youth and everyone caught in the middle. He is an amazing storyteller, and I will read everything he publishes at least twice. His ability to juxtapose real human feelings with horrific displays of human indifference is incredible.

I Know This Much is True – Wally Lamb is an excellent storyteller, and this tale of twin brothers rivals East of Eden by Steinbeck. Maybe I have a soft spot for Mr. Lamb because his books are set in Connecticut, but honestly, they are all incredibly far-reaching and epic and funny and heartbreaking.

The Handmaids Tale – Well, I suppose this book resonated with me, along with a gazillion other women in today’s society. It was shocking, unthinkable, but now an abstract scenario that takes up space in many women’s minds. Two things I’ve learned: one, I will be shipped off to The Colonies, and two, this novel was mainly directed at a dystopian nightmare that applies mainly to white women.

And the last book I’m going to mention is “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks”. Henrietta Lacks was a poor black woman who was dying, and whose cervical tissue cells were taken without her knowledge or permission in the 1950’s. Those cells, known as HeLa, have been duplicated and sold and used for really important scientific and medical advances, including vaccines, genetic studies, treatment of viruses, and human fertilization methods. However, her immediate family and descendants were not privy to the use or value of HeLa. This is an incredible tale of racial injustice, medical research and ethics, human suffering, medical triumph and serious moral debate.

All of these books, and so many more, have inspired me as an aspiring and actual writer, a human, and a lover of books. Please do comment with those books that have influenced you as any of the above.

“For a true writer, each book should be a new beginning where he tries again for something that is beyond attainment. He should always try for something that has never been done or that others have tried and failed. Then sometimes, with great luck, he will succeed.” – Ernest Hemingway

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven.

©The Twisted Maven, 2019

Featured

Floating With the Wind

“You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need” – The Rolling Stones

If you’ve been following along, you know that I had a mutual break-up with my career a few years back. If you haven’t been following along…I had a mutual break-up with my career a few years back.

Immediately following said break-up, I became what I never thought was possible. I was a stay-at-home parent. It was fun, it was frustrating, it was liberating, it was frightening, it was delightful, and it was humbling, to say the least. While I did my best in this new role as an unemployed spouse and mother, I concurrently made efforts to find employment, since our household income had just been cut in half.

I applied to countless positions similar to the one I had held in my former occupation. I had also applied to countless job postings that were somewhat similar in qualifications to my former occupation. In addition, I applied to anything that sounded interesting, that may have been slightly related to what I did in my former occupation. And, I applied for jobs that sounded okay, for which I had no relevant experience, but may have led to decent discounts (in other words, retail jobs).

There were some “thanks but no thanks” emails, there were a few freelance writing and editing jobs that I was able to do periodically for very little compensation, and there was complete radio silence with respect to most of the other jobs I applied to.

I will be honest; the loss of my career, which had defined how I had spent most of the previous two decades, caused me to become somewhat unmoored. I wasn’t sure of who I was, who I should be, what I should do, what I could do. So when I say “somewhat unmoored”, I mean my psyche really fucking suffered.

And then…

Serendipity happened.

I became an advocate and coach for Girls on the Run. In case you don’t know, Girls on the Run is a non-profit organization dedicated to the physical and emotional well-being of girls during the time of their lives when they need it most, from 3rd to 8th grade.

And as it turned out, being a coach for Girls on the Run enabled me to hold onto ME. Instead of being completely aimless and unscheduled, I was able to spend time every week planning sessions and implementing them with my fellow coaches. Which enabled me to use those few planned hours as a basis from which to make the rest of my weekly schedule.

I was even able to secure some part-time employment as a substitute teacher and as a facilitator of after-school and summer science programs, which (after so long of working in an office and far away from even my own children), I found surprisingly enjoyable.

And then…

Earlier this year, and after applying on a whim, I found employment that was really meaningful. I was working at one of the first jobs I truly loved, teaching and caring for the toddler set, which was so educational and uplifting.

Shortly after I started that job, an opportunity crossed my path. And I almost didn’t acknowledge it, because I was in this position where I loved getting up for work every single day, and loved my coworkers–both the adult ones as well as the under-5 set.

But this opportunity that happened…I decided to dust off my resume and apply. Why? Because the little voice in my head, the same one that had led me to seek out a job at the daycare, told me that it was time, once again, to step out of my comfort zone.

What I realized during my pursuit of this opportunity, is that being a coach for Girls on the Run had impacted my thinking and worldview more than I had understood previously. I no longer dwelled on feelings of self-doubt and unworthiness, and had been able to silence negative self-talk. Instead, I was existing in a state where I felt confident and joyful in what I was doing every day. Working in the preschool/daycare also lifted me. Being able to show up and give my best to tiny humans who deserve nothing less, was an incredibly satisfying and healing experience.

Once I learned to quiet the noise that negative thoughts and feelings can bring, I found that the path was clear. It must be noted that if I didn’t get this particular job, I was still happy with what I was doing, every single day. And I don’t discount the contribution that made toward my confidence.

With respect to this new opportunity that came along, I found myself able to focus on the attributes that made me an excellent candidate, and the skills and gifts I could bring to this position.

And yes, I did get the job. I’ll talk more about that in a future post, because I have a LOT to say about it!

So for now, I want to encourage everyone to listen to that little voice that speaks to you on occasion. I had stifled that voice for so long, in pursuit of a career that ultimately didn’t want me, and the subsequent floundering and existential crises that followed.

I’m sure many of you know this already, but it sure has taken me a damn long time to figure it out for myself: just like unhappiness, self-neglect and doubt can feed on each other to bring you further down, the opposite is also true.

It can take a monumental effort to overcome and put yourself back on the path to fulfillment and joy, and I’m still very much working on the achieve my best self. I’d say I’ve managed to pull myself up to “doing pretty good”, which is tremendous progress from the low point of “everything sucks and I’m not getting out of bed today”.

A very wise person once told me, when I was at that low point and confided how I was bogged down in my own emotional and mental crap, “Just do one thing. One thing per day. And then you’ll find that once you get that one thing done, you’ll be able to do another thing. The hardest part is just starting to do that one thing, but you can do it. You can.”

That wise person was right. And if I could do it, you can too. So again, listen to that little voice, take a step outside your comfort zone, float with the wind,and see what happens. I believe in you!

Until next time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Featured

Middle Age Range Changes (or, what is this bullsh*t??)

“Evolving into a middle-aged person is quite interesting if we can understand what it means. I would like to think it meant being a bit sure of what I want.” – Dawn French

Before starting to write this piece, I researched the definition of “middle age”. One, to delineate an age range, and two, to make doubly sure that I actually fall into that category, being that I’m still solidly in my 40’s for a bit. Not a long bit, just a little bit, but still…a bit.

Now that I’m convinced by my research that I do, indeed, qualify as being middle aged, I started to ponder what differentiates my age bracket from my past (“young adult”) and future (“senior citizen”) classifications.

This whole train of thought was brought about by my last visit to my optometrist. When I turned 40, he told me that I could expect my eyesight to degenerate, and soon. At that point, I only needed glasses for distance, and the prescription was mild.

I thought I was defying the aging process for several years after that visit, because my eyesight barely changed. Then, the day of reckoning came with respect to my eyesight, along with my 30th High School reunion. Hence the pondering about middle age, and the recognition that I’m experiencing things that pretty much define middle age.

So here is my more or less comprehensive list of the kind of bullshit that goes on once one reaches a certain age:

My eyesight went from pretty good to holding everything at arms’ length in order to read it or squinting.
And I mean everything; school forms, prescription bottles, menus, books, everything.
I now wear “progressive lenses” in my glasses, which means that I can now see the car dashboard and read street signs simultaneously. But it also means I have to tilt my head dramatically downward in order to walk down the stairs without falling. And my chins have some issues with that.
I’ve noticed I’ve been saying “what?” a lot more frequently. I don’t know if that’s because I attended concerts in my youth with no regard for protecting my hearing, worked around loud machinery for a number of years without earplugs, or if I just don’t care about most of what is happening around me until I realize that I might have missed some crucial information.
My daughter is now taller than me and my mother is now shorter than me.
I realized while on vacation and wearing a bathing suit every day, I don’t have much body hair to deal with anymore. I also realized that it could totally be my failing eyes tricking me. So, um, I’m sorry if it looks like I’m storing squirrels under my arms. I can’t get an arms length away to see what’s actually going on there.
The above also came with the realization that most of the hair on my body seems to have migrated to my chin.
I’m fortunate enough to have a best friend who pointed me to products to take care of said chin hair.
Also, I’ve reached the point in my life where a little body hair doesn’t bother me, especially now that I seem (again, could be due to degrading eyesight) to have less of it. And once late October comes, that razor gets tossed out of the window. I live in New England, I need all the warmth I can get.
The chances of me peeing a little bit when I cough, laugh or sneeze are pretty high.
When I google any kind of malaise I’m feeling, it always points to cancer, lupus, allergies, and/or death.
I don’t go to the doctor unless my google searches point to cancer, lupus, allergies, and/or death…but only if death seems especially imminent.
Moving from sitting on the floor to standing requires some sort of mental preparation and vocal self-encouragement.
I’m tired all of the time, and yet, I can’t sleep.
Related, caffeine is an absolute necessity immediately upon starting my day, otherwise I will stare blankly into space in a semi-conscious state. Until said caffeine is consumed and takes effect.
Are these hot flashes or is everywhere exceptionally warm, all the time? I’m not sure.
I grouse about a lot of things now, like how fast people drive, how loud a neighbor is, taxes, and “kids today”.
Smelling babies is a perfectly acceptable activity.
The fear of encountering dangerous wildlife, including bears, ticks, spiders, bugs, skunks, turkeys, geese, flying assholes that sting, teenagers and rattlesnakes, anywhere outside of my home, has become a thing.
As has the untimely or maybe timely illnesses and deaths of peers and their parents. As a friend put it recently, “I guess we are just at that age where people start dying.” It’s not a pleasant thing, it’s actually an awful thing, but yet…it’s a thing.

And the list can go on, of course. But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the fact that I have more love and kindness in my heart than I ever dreamed possible during my younger years. And that I care more deeply about social and political issues now than I did even 10 years ago.

I’ve gone from the abstract thought 20 years ago that maybe I’d be a good parent, to actively trying, every day, to achieve that goal; and I strive to be a good role model and affect the world in a positive way as a mentor and coach and teacher, and in just trying to be a good human.

In that vein, I’ve also accepted that I’m flawed and have some issues and baggage, some of which are of my own creation, but all of which are mine to deal with.

And perhaps most importantly, I’ve realized that objects and money and status was never a goal of mine; rather, what I give is so much more important than what I get. What I do, NOT what I own, is what truly matters to me.

While the younger version of me might never have understood those thoughts and concepts, I hope that the older version of me will be proud and satisfied with my decisions in this middle age.

At least during the moments when I’m not screaming at people to GET OFF MY LAWN!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Featured

C’mon With Your Dinosaur and Unicorn Nonsense

“A gender-equal society would be one where ‘gender’ does not exist: where everyone can be themselves” – Gloria Steinhem

I wouldn’t define the subject of this post as a pet peeve, per se. It’s not a something that causes me constant ire, but rather, on the occasions when I encounter it, I do feel peevish. Affronted. Vexed. My eyes narrow, I shake my head, I sigh, throw my head back, and roll my eyeballs so hard they fall out of my head and down my back.

The subject? Graphic t-shirts for kids. YES, I know it may seem an absolutely ridiculous subject to get my panties in a twist about. But bear with me on this one.

I don’t spend a lot of time shopping for things at actual stores at this point in my life. When I had more money and time and less children and responsibilities, “shopping” was an actual activity that I participated in. Leisurely, at will, sometimes with purpose, but sometimes just for something to do.

Now, any shopping I do is predominantly focused on need, mostly under stress, and often with annoyance. 90% of my shopping is online, while the other 10% happens when I have to actually walk into into a store, seeking out something that is desperately needed (usually) by one of my spawn.

So, at the end of the school year, vacation happened. As it usually does, in the same location, and with the same needs and expectations. I could have inventoried my children’s wardrobes ahead of time, but I chose to delegate that responsibility to my children, along with the responsibility of letting me know what their perceived wardrobe needs were. Dummy me.

Two days into vacation, one daughter was lamenting her lack of bathing suit attire, while the other one had to borrow a swim shirt to cover her sunburned shoulders (go ahead, call me a crappy mom for not slathering my kids in SPF 500 sunscreen every 30 minutes. Also, eat shit, because I make some not-insignificant sacrifices to be able to provide my kids with two weeks of constant sunshine and activity and fun).

ANYWAY…all this to say is that I felt compelled to go shopping, because my kids needed some clothing, and since there was a huge outlet shopping complex nearby, off I went, with my older daughter in tow.

We dashed in and out of several stores, to no avail. I had already resigned myself to placing an on-line order for my teen, and then, I saw it, the store sign shining like a beacon: The Children’s Place.

If there were any store I’d be able to find something suitable (see what I did there?) for my young tween, this would be it. So in we went, trotting quickly around, looking for bathing suits.

After a minute or two, I started noticing something, once I realized that no swimwear was available. I slowed my pace and found myself looking back and forth, between this and that clothing bracket, this and that table, this and that display, my eyes widening.

Quick side note: I have two daughters, who love and/or loved unicorns, narwhals, dolls, legos, kittens, babies and matchbox cars. I have two daughters who play lacrosse and basketball. I have two daughters who excel in math and science, along with music and writing. I have two daughters who typically choose comfort over style when it comes to their clothing choices. I have two daughters who love to express their personalities through graphic t-shirts.

Still with me? Okay then. This is what I saw as my head was on a swivel:

Notice anything conspicuous? Absurd? Sexist?? If you say no, you’ll have to come here and say it to my face so that I may gently correct you, perhaps with a high five to your forehead. With a chair.

Boys clothing: orange, navy blue, red, green. With trucks and footballs and stripes and dinosaurs. And words like “power” and “victory” and “hustle” and “game”.

Girls clothing: pink, purple, light blue, rainbows. With hearts and unicorns and strawberries and kittens. And words like “love” and “beautiful” and “unicorn” (OMG sooooo many unicorns) and “perfect”.

I will admit, I dressed my daughters in the pinkest and purplest and floofiest of clothes when they were little. I didn’t even look at the other side of the aisle. It didn’t even occur to me, because the gender lines are drawn so clearly, starting with infant onesies.

It wasn’t until I did start to look across the aisle, when my oldest realized that the boys had some pretty rad shirts, that I realized how badly the clothing companies were screwing up. Girls like trucks and mud! Boys like music and horses! Girls like dinosaurs! Boys like reading books! Girls like navy blue! Boys like purple!

So who chose the definitions of identity with respect to children’s clothing? Where’s the inclusivity? Where’s the diversity? Because even if children aren’t told explicitly what boys and girls are “supposed” to like, according to the way clothing is categorized, kids are being sent messages about what their identity should be, one t-shirt at a time.

I let my Google fingers do some research, and I did find some positive results. L.L. Bean’s kid’s graphic t-shirts are nearly identical for both boys and girls. Land’s End is okay-ish. Old Navy is better than they used to be. But damn…I have called out The Children’s Place before, and I am doing it again now.

Here’s a suggestion for the clothing companies who are all over the graphic t-shirt game. How about you blend your displays in store, and not assign gender in your catalogs? Your targeted demographic(s) will no doubt respond enthusiastically about all of the options available to everyone.

Let’s enable our kids, and ourselves, the opportunity to express our likes, our hobbies, our passions, and our personalities as we wish. My child’s affinity for legos and skull designs and navy blue shirts should matter just as much as another child’s affinity for dancing, panda bears and purple shirts, regardless of gender.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Featured

Fare Thee Well!

Moving on from Middle School is the Best Thing Ever.

This celebration is but a few years away…

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” – Seneca

An Open Letter to My Daughter Upon the End of Middle School That Probably Applies to a Lot of Kids This Age:

You did it, my dear. You made it through what most adults in our culture look back on and shiver with discomfort: The Middle School Years.

For most, 8th grade is/was the apex of awkwardness and angst. There’s these new gangly arms and legs that can cause a 13 year old to move like a newborn fawn, unsteady and with all limbs moving in different directions. Along with the feet and chins and noses that are suddenly out of proportion on everyone, the braces that make smiles look more like grimaces, and the dreaded acne breakouts.

And, oh…the daily embarrassment of simply existing. The absolute conviction that everything one says is unforgivably dumb and will be ridiculed in the most loud and public manner. The knowledge that everyone else is cool, confident and worry-free, so comfortable in their own skin, unconcerned about what anyone else says or thinks.

Guess what? Nearly everyone feels the same way, they just express it differently. Some try to shrink into the background, some try to overcompensate, some hide behind facades of their own construction, whether those facades project confidence, cruelty, or something in between.

Here’s what you may not realize; aside from all the super weird and challenging physical and emotional changes you’ve experienced, you have also learned a metric shitton. Yes, that’s a technical term, don’t question me.

Academically, you’ve effectively learned a second language; you’ve learned mathematical equations; you’ve learned about technology, history, grammar, science and well being. Your knowledge base is solid, and you will, going forward, build upon that base.

Socially, you’ve established a fluid base of friends. Friendships will wax and wane over the next few years, but you already know who is going to remain at your core, who has your back, who makes you laugh, who gets you, and vice versa.

Athletically, you have brought your game to a different level. You want to run, you want to bike, you want to play, and you want to compete. YOU were instrumental in your tourney games and getting your team to state championship. The players who tear up the field and score and play well offensively tend to get most of the glory, which is not undeserved. But you are bold and solid on defense, and I know that’s where you’re most comfortable. You play smart, you play physical, and watching you on the basketball court and lacrosse field brings me so much pride. You play with heart and ferocity. You didn’t learn that from me, it comes from within you, and it’s amazing.

I know you have your negative opinions about yourself, your struggles, your moments of anxiety and self-doubt. I know I will likely see less of you over the next few years, and you will share less with me, as you establish your confidants and social circle.

What you need to understand is that I am bound and determined to see you through to adulthood, and to make sure you are happy, safe, kind, productive and secure in the knowledge that you are loved. I have told you that this is my mission since you were a little child, and I mean even more now than I did then.

I make a lot of mistakes, every freaking day. I try to own them, with the thought that I am leading by example. What I won’t do, is apologize for who I am, in any given moment, which is also what I want to pass along to you. This lack of remorse on my part basically means that the sooner you accept and embrace me, the fewer struggles we will have. Just let me hug you every once in a while, okay? I know I’m uncool and dorky and embarrassing, and I’m okay with that.

So you can roll your eyes when I tell you I love you, you can make fun of me about all the things you think I don’t know. You can think and say out loud that I’m old and I understand nothing. But I’ll also be here to surprise you with the things I DO know; so when you snicker at some small reference and I ask you, “What?”, don’t assume it’s because I don’t understand…I’m testing you, to see if YOU understand.

But when it comes down to it, I know what I need to know. I know I birthed not one, but two future legends. I know you have great potential for success, as long as you don’t trip yourself up. Even if you do stumble, you can rise with the knowledge that I am always here and always have your back.

Also, because I need to include this in every single conversation we have, even if I’m the only one talking: you need to be nicer to your sister. She is your biggest supporter and most enthusiastic cheerleader. She takes whatever you say as solid truth, over anything I might say or do to convince her otherwise. So choose your words carefully, and understand your power to influence.

Lastly, I’m proud of you. I know you feel like middle school kind of sucked, but I hope you will hold onto the good memories that you made while there. You had some outstanding teachers who helped you ignite your desire to learn and excel academically. You achieved great things athletically as well.

The onset of the teen years is super not fun for either the teens or the parents, but I hope you know that I’m doing my best to navigate this territory. I understand when you don’t want to talk to me and when you don’t even want me in the same hemisphere, and I do my best to give you your space. I appreciate the moments when we have honest and candid conversations, because you are an amazing child, growing into an even more amazing person, who has so much to offer this world.

I promise the next few years will be challenging, but also rewarding. You really did make it through the toughest time, and it’s now your time to build upon your skills and knowledge as you journey on the inevitable path to adulthood. I believe in you, and I hope that in your times of both great triumph and struggle, you can feel me behind you, supporting you, whispering, “You can do it.”

Because you can, and you will.

I love you most.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven (aka Mama)

Featured

Sh*t Hap–

“Without the experience of trouble, calamity, grief, and adversity, you would not have courage, strength, joy and patience.” – Nishan Panwar

Initially, I was going to write about how freaking exhausting, and yet joyful Spring is for parents of school aged children. However, my planned single-subject tirade was harshly interrupted. Because shit happens, right?

I arrived, late and halfheartedly, to my oldest child’s lacrosse game on a recent evening. I was feeling overwhelmed with All The Things To Be Done, wanting to be there and not wanting to be there in equal measure (and feeling the crushing guilt the not wanting to be there brings), and on the tail end of what felt like months, but was actually maybe an hour, of having my ears melted by my 9 year old’s never ending monologue of statements, emotions, and questions that demanded an immediate answer.

My cellphone rang, which it never does, except for appointment reminders and spam calls. I almost tapped that thingy on the side that silences calls, but I glanced at the caller ID. It was my best friend from college, one of very few people whom I could not, and would not, ever send to voicemail and tell them to text me instead.

I was greeted with a small “hi” and a deep breath, and I knew that I needed to walk away from the lacrosse field. She then informed me that our friend, our sorority sister, our college roommate, had passed away unexpectedly. I listened and could only murmur small words as she told me what happened. My heart started to break as I heard her sorrow and felt her same pain. I winced as she told me about how recently they had talked and how many times they had tried to get together, but, you know, shit happens, life is busy and there is always next time.

We discussed how unbelievable, how awful and how freaking sad it was that this woman, whose presence could command a room, whose laugh was infectious, who told the funniest jokes, who hid her pain from most of the world, who was on the 77th floor of the North Tower on 9/11 and made it out alive, who serenaded us endlessly in college with her rendition of “Something to Talk About”, who could turn a minor discomfort into a super urgent huge medical emergency, who loved her mom, who adored her child, who had just in the past few years found the love of her life and was living as her best self, had actually left us.

Two days later, I found myself tagged in a post disseminating the news about a high school friend who passed away the previous evening from a massive heart attack. Although I hadn’t physically seen him in over 20 years, we were close friends back in the day. He was funny, like FUNNY funny, and he had a generous heart and great kindness. He had, like my college friend, found love again and remarried within the last few years. He had also recently announced that his wife was expecting a baby boy, and this was some really awful shit that happened.

Here’s the thing; these events occurred while my oldest kid was in the playoffs for state champions for lacrosse, which was thrilling and time consuming. My youngest kid had just finished her season with Girls on the Run, and was also playing some exciting lacrosse games, which I was helping to coach. I hadn’t seen my suddenly deceased friends any time recently, although we had re-connected via social media within the last decade. So there were all these conflicted feelings and confusion; I wanted more than anything to be fully present for my kids and their good shit happening, but yet, here were these feelings, these losses which I felt acutely, but was struggling with how to process and where to put these feelings about this really bad shit that happened.

It was difficult for me to define and put perspective on my grief, and maybe this is an issue with social media. If I hadn’t reconnected with these people from my past through social media, I may or may not have had any connection with them at all. I may not have been reminded of our friendships and moments and years past when I saw their posts, I might have had no knowledge about their current lives, and perhaps wouldn’t have been able to rejoice in their happiness or grieve their deaths.

And that train of thought made me feel like my sorrow wasn’t justified, like I had no right to grieve for these people I had once been close to, or even feel bad for their families and friends that they had been more recently connected with. And I was concerned that if I stopped for a moment to process these events, that I would be less than present for important shit happening in my children’s lives. So I ended up spending a few days sad, confused, conflicted, not present and bogged down in my own shit.

And then…and it wasn’t a sudden epiphany, it was after seeking comfort, wisdom and conversation from and with friends and family…I realized that my feelings of grief were valid and worthy. And then I shouldn’t try to skirt around them, but embrace and move through them, so that I could be fully engaged with the shit happening in front of my face.

I allowed myself time. Time to think, time to cry, time to mentally thank these individuals for being a part of my life, for helping form who I am today. They may have no longer been a part of my day-to-day, but they certainly had their place in my life and in my heart. And I allowed myself to feel sorrow and concern for their families and other loved ones who may have no idea who I am now or was in the past to my friends.

And guess what? I’m still feeling sadness and loss, and it’s still going to take awhile to navigate this. However, I have also been able to appreciate the good shit happening. I’ve watched and felt great excitement and happiness about my girls’ team playing with heart and winning the state middle school lacrosse championship. I have been able to express my pride to my girl and gratitude to her coaches.

I was able to put my heart into coaching my other girls’ lacrosse team and feel happiness in their accomplishments and achievements. I have been able to function at my job and care for the small humans in my care with all of my abilities not only intact, but with intention and confidence.

Actual winning medal and trophy for actually winning.

Grief and joy can exist together. I’d venture to say that, in fact, they cannot exist without each other. Tara and Chris, I will not soon forget you. I have great hopes for your families’ resiliency, and I have so much gratitude for your influence on my life.

The world is a little bit dimmer and a little bit sadder without you both in it. I’m pretty confident that you’d be sending me some positive thoughts about the good things going on in my life, as much as I would send them to you. As much as I will be sending them to your families.

So I will unabashedly revel in the triumphs, joy and successes achieved by my children, myself, and by my friends and family, even while I grieve the loss of you both. And I have made a promise to extend myself, at least just a little bit more, to make sure that the people I know feel appreciated, heard, and cared about. As well as taking a little more time to pause, reflect, and value small and large moments as they happen.

Because, as we know…shit happens.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Featured

Say What?

(FYI, these are rando kids, not currently under my care)

“Babies aren’t savages, Toddlers understand language long before they can talk.” – Pamela Druckerman

I have been working part-time in a daycare/preschool for the past several months, and I have to say that this has been one of the most challenging (in a good way) and amazing jobs I’ve ever had.

I look forward to interacting with the tiny humans left in my charge, every single day. There’s so much that’s cute and funny, and there’s so much growth happening. It’s fascinating to be with them as they’re conducting their jobs of exploring, pushing boundaries, learning and socializing.

I do have my own kids, and have done and said some things that I never in a million years thought I’d be doing, hearing, or saying. But working with a group of young children brings it’s own level of events, routines, and more things that I really super duper never in a million years thought I’d be doing, hearing, or saying.

Here are a few:

Who pooped? Did you poop? (I say and hear this every single day, no lie)

Hold still, I need to wipe the boogers off your forehead. (how they got there, I have no idea, but they ain’t gonna stay there under my watch)

Dude, WHAT did you eat?

Wash your hands…wash your hands…wash your hands…

We don’t eat rocks!

Is that poop? That’s not poop, right? Okay, whew, that’s not poop.

Oh, THAT is poop.

Please stop running and take the bucket off your head.

Please don’t try to climb over the fence.

Please don’t climb on the windowsill.

Please don’t climb on the bookshelf.

Please don’t climb on your friends.

Please stop taking your clothes off!

Glue sticks go on the paper, not in our mouths!

Oh no! We don’t lick the paint brush.

Please stop licking the wall.

Please stop licking the window.

Where are your shoes?

Child: I have something! Me: What is it? Child: It’s a stick! Me: Let me see! (holds out my hands) Child: (drops giant hairy thousand legged scary bug in my palm) See??? Me: (suppressing a scream) oh…yes…so cool…(throws bug as far as I can, as soon as I can).

Why are you crying? (more often than not, there is liiiiiterally no reason, or it’s because: they think sand is in their shoe/their friend is crying/they don’t like their lunch/they want to play with all 10 trucks and are upset that they can’t carry them all)

Hey, inside voices please! (aka: OMG, please please please stop screaming at the top of your lungs for no reason)

Child: JENN!!! Me: Yes? Child: (runs and gives me a hug that nearly knocks me to the ground) Me: (smiles and hugs that kid and watches them wipe a decent amount of snot across my shoulder) (but whatever, their nose is now clean and I am going to throw that shirt in the wash as soon as I get home).

It is a wonderful and unique experience, guiding little ones through the mundane (toileting, lunchtime), the important (keeping them healthy and safe), the exciting (art projects, special guests and activities), the every day good stuff (learning the alphabet, numbers and colors), and the super fun stuff (creating a magical space filled with their artwork, singing silly songs that secretly teach them things like counting and sign language).

Listen, little kids should all be treasured, for they are full of humor and knowledge. We just have to listen. They are all worth all of our best efforts to help them grow, learn, and express themselves. Because our best hope is that what they learn and what they teach us will stick, as they grow into big kids and beyond.

Until next time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Featured

THE PURGE

“Cleaning the house while your kids are still growing up is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing” – Phyllis Diller

My imagined view of any room in my home.

Here’s the truth, and you know it: most of us hold onto too much crap and allow our homes to become cluttered. It’s not something that happens quickly, but over a few decades of life. From where I sit, in my office, at my computer, I can see albums and boxes of photographs (none of which have are from the past decade); a full set of china on display in a cabinet (I didn’t want formal china, but I gave in to pressure from older people and registered for it when I was getting married) (by the way, the fancy formal china has been used maybe five times in the past 16 years), a bin of craft supplies, a stack of 500 index cards, 30 pens and markers and pencils, four notebooks, six different objects with imprints of my children’s feet/hands when they were infants, and about a million tchotchkes placed every other available surface.

That’s a lot, and that’s just what’s in front of me right now. I decided about a year ago that a huge PURGE was necessary, so I’ve been going room by room in this not-very-big house of mine. I was partly inspired by the KonMari Method, and partly by the legendary comedian George Carlin, who joked (I’m paraphrasing) that our houses are just a places to keep our stuff, while we go out and work to get more stuff, until we need a bigger house to store all our stuff.

Honestly, I don’t need more stuff. I need less. Sure, at times I’ve felt pressure to “upgrade” my home to something that is more spacious, more fancy, with more rooms and a larger driveway and bigger everything. But when I dig deep into my emotional well, I realize I don’t need a house with more or bigger or larger right now. I just want this house to be more organized, and I’d like to shed the stuff that isn’t needed or wanted.

As for the KonMari Method, it postulates that anything that doesn’t bring you joy should be discarded. From old college tees to kitchen gadgets to stuff you stashed away for future use; all of it should be taken out, examined, and either found an accessible place in your home or thanked and discarded. For the stuff you keep, it should be stored and organized in specific ways; for instance, t-shirts should be folded and stored upright instead of flat, and old boxes should be re-purposed as drawer organizers.

In the course of writing this, I have also discovered the concept of döstädning, or Swedish Death Cleaning. This decluttering method does not have all the rules and processes that the KonMari Method has. It’s underlying message is this: don’t leave a freaking mess of your things for your family to deal with when you die.

And although I have reached a point in life where I think every illness, pain and momentary physical discomfort signals my imminent death, which of course my internet searches confirm, I decided that I can hold off on the Death Cleaning until at least my next round of organizing and cleaning, after my kids are no longer kids.

But overall, I can get on board with the concept of purging my home of items that are unused, grown out of, and unappreciated.

Well, except for the clothes that I haven’t worn in a few or more seasons, but I swear I will if I ever don’t wear only the same 7 pairs of sweats/leggings during the colder months, the same 6 pairs of shorts during the hotter months and the same 3 pairs of pants that don’t reach my ankles during the in-between seasons (what are we calling them now? cropped? capris? clam diggers?). Along with my various graphic, athletic and regular cotton tees. And an occasional sweater.

One side note; the idea of discarding everything that does not bring me joy is a little…I don’t know…extra. Dustrags don’t bring me joy, but they’re necessary. The sump pump that prevents my basement from flooding doesn’t make my heart skip a beat, but yet, I need it. I view toilet cleaner with dread, but again, I can’t NOT have it.

There are some things that I’m actually good at getting rid of, such as dried up markers (on the day I happened to realize a whole bin of dried up markers resided in my living room), and pieces of paper. I recycle the shit out of pieces of paper, even ones that I really need but don’t realize it until approximately three minutes after the recycling has been taken out.

Um. That’s it, really. I have a lot of things of sentimental value, tchotchkies I’ve picked up along the way, kids’ artwork from birth until now that I’m loathe to part with, pens from every bank, hotel and vendor I’ve ever breezed by, notebooks (I have a thing for volumes of blank paper), random stuff that finds its way into my home and never leaves, and anything I’ve ever gotten for free. Or even for some effort.

I will also admit, I am a collecter (hoarder) of books; I love books. I love my hardcover books with their dustcovers intact that haven’t even been read yet as much as those that have been read multiple times with broken in spines. I love the ebooks on my tablet and I never ever delete any of them; I love my paperback books with their ratty covers and busted up spines and questionable debris smudges on the pages (pizza grease? coffee stains? boogers?). Bottom line: I’m keeping my books.

However, one of the things that the KonMari Method insists on is getting rid of books. That no home should have more than thirty. I’m sorry, but anyone who would put a limit on the number of books I have in my home can just take that negativity and go elsewhere.

So even though I won’t throw out books and I have a large bin of more broken and unbroken crayons than any human could ever use, I have made progress, using the TM (Twisted Maven) Purge Method. Which looks like this:

Any time that my schedule (and that means: when I’m not working, sleeping, schlepping children, or doing other shit) allows, I take a corner, a closet, or a section of a room, and I start tossing what I find there in different directions.

One pile is recycling. This typically consists of two-plus year old New York Times Magazines that I truly meant to read; random pieces of paper such as notes about appointments, tasks, draft drawings and cryptic messages that I’ll never figure out the meaning of (along with really important information that I need…see above); old single use water bottles that creep up on me my from my office, underneath car seats and hidden in a pile of mismatched socks on my dresser, and; anything else I happen to come across that has a recycling triangle.

Another pile is for designated Passing Along. I have family and friends with younger children to whom I can to pass along some really awesome stuff that my daughters enjoyed when they were younger.

Yes, there is a garbage pile, but I try to keep the amount of stuff that I straight up discard to a future in a landfill to a minimum. This pile consists of anything I cannot recycle or pass along. Mostly random crap like pieces of string, dried up play-doh, anything gotten by twisting a quarter for a “prize” out of a metal chute, and, well, garbage.

And then there’s the donation pile, which typically ends up being the largest, because I hold onto shit for too long. And although I have donated clothes and household items to large charity organizations previously, I decided to try to seek out more local sources for items I no longer want or need.

To that end, I currently have a job that enables me to bring in toys, books, music and other kid-friendly materials that are no longer or have never been used in my house. I get to enjoy them, in some cases, all over again, with super amazing tiny humans that aren’t related to me!

I have also found local Facebook groups can be key to turning your discards into another persons’ treasure.

There are local “Upcycle” and “Free” sites, but the one I like the most is my local “Buy Nothing/Sell Nothing” group. If you do nothing else with your life on the day you read this, please please check out if such a group exists in your community. If so, then JOIN. If not, then consider creating your own.

The concept is simple. If you have stuff you want to get rid of, post it on the site. If you have things you need, ask on the site. But what makes this a little different is the concept of creating a feeling of community, of offering up and asking for not just material objects.

Besides actual items, other things that can be offered/asked for on a Buy Nothing/Sell Nothing site: transportation for elderly/handicapped individuals, excess produce from a home garden, volunteers for a community clean-up, plantings for/from one’s yard, coupons for infant formula, pet sitting, event tickets, and so on.

In addition, I’ve seen people who have received items turn around and offer them back up when they are ready to pass them along. And, occasionally, people get to know and befriend people from their own neighborhood and beyond. And you can’t put a price on human connection.

Personally, I was able to find good homes for board games, kitchen gadgets, office items, clothing, and other miscellany. It also gave me an outlet to dispense some humor with my item descriptions. The feedback I received that I made someone laugh or smile meant more to me than ridding my closet of my purged items.

The items I didn’t have any takers on were bacon-muffin molds. They’re still languishing in my closet, awaiting the next purge round.

That said, I feel like I may have just landed on my first giveaway. I know and you know you want these bacon muffin molds. Send me a PM or comment below about why you deserve these pieces of magic more than anyone. I’ll pick a winner based on the messages that amuse me most, and will send them with no cost to you. I’ll announce the winner previous to my next post.

Take-aways: we accumulate too much crap. We should get rid of our excess crap. Someone else might be able to use our crap that we do not want or need. Give local. Don’t do a death purge until you’re reasonably certain that you’re actually dying…but then, only of old age.

Until next time,

Just Breathe…

The Twisted Maven

Featured

Twisted Maven Intro – Part 1

How I used to envision adulthood…all green grass and blue skies and fluffy white clouds.

“I planned to take over the world, but I’m tired.” – Unknown

Greetings and welcome to The Twisted Maven! Come on in and hang out for awhile. Curl up on my couch, enjoy a glass of wine or a cup of tea, but please leave your shoes at the door. My aim is to make you comfortable, but not so much that you feel free to muck up my space. It’s already mucked up enough. Besides, we’ve got some things to discuss, all of us, about this Mess in the Middle.

By way of introductions, I was born in the 1970’s, came of age in the 1980’s, grew into adulthood in the 1990’s, got married and procreated in the 00’s, so I’m currently in the years between helping my children and parents with their toileting. Too old to go out anywhere that has a dance floor and a DJ, but still a few years away from my complimentary AARP magazine subscription. You get the idea. I am existing on a day-to-day basis, with lots of balls in the air and even more on the ground that I’ve dropped along the way.

I’m at that point in life where I’m attempting to let go of the past, live in the present, while still planning some for the future. I have kids who still need me, parents who are showing signs of needing me more, a desire for an organized home and schedule, a fairly wicked sense of humor, a love of facts, the obligation to provide some sort of income to my household, and a propensity for using curse words as often as I breathe.

I’m also a pop culture junkie, most knowledgeable about random facts dating from my parent’s childhood in the 1950’s to right about the exact second I gave birth for the second time in 2009. And, I am a big fan of quality food, drink, coffee, movies, television that costs money, and music of most kinds.

I’m in a constant state of being pulled in all directions to the point of shattering, while simultaneously feeling enough pressure from all sides that I often feel crushed to the point of being completely compacted, unable to move. Above all, I’m just freaking tired. All. The. Time.

I’m waiting to reclaim all of my limbs and senses, and for that crushing pressure to lift and finally reveal the sparkle of the me-diamond that has been under construction for so long. I’m sure there’s a single German word for all of this, but my google searches have yet to find it.

So why “The Twisted Maven”? Because I have enough life experience and education, both academic and self-started, to consider myself someone who may have something relatable to say, as well as some semi-useful knowledge to pass along. And I’m also self-aware enough to know that I’m generally a culmination of my failures, but yet, I’m still standing, and even thriving in some areas. I am the master of my life; it’s a chaotic, ridiculous, tiring thing, but yet, I love it. That’s the “Maven” part.

The “Twisted” part? Well, if you’re looking for some amazing Pinterest-worthy creations or tone-deaf articles that purport to help you live a happier, more organized, productive and beautiful life, you’re not going to find that here. There’s already enough of that kind of stuff out there to make you feel shitty about your life. Rather, I’m a truth teller about how I manage this Mess in the Middle. What I aim to do is let you know that I feel you, and I’m with you in the trenches. I appreciate and understand the drudgery.

What I aim to do is help us all acknowledge and laugh at the things that we can’t control, allow us to realize how to control the things we can without losing our shit, and learn to know the difference between the two. I’m all about hacks that actually work, camouflaging disasters, calling bullshit wherever and whenever I see it, learning as much as I can about as much as I can. And, most of all, laughing and singing and crying like there’s nobody watching.

This whole life thing is a complicated bit, no matter where you are located in it. Why not celebrate our beautiful catastrophes, and have a laugh while we’re at it?

Stay tuned, as there is much, much more to come. In the meantime…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven