Humor Archives - Page 2 of 4 - The Twisted Maven

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

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

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

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)

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