Destined for Greatness

I've done it.  I'm a-freaking-mazing. I am riding high and can't stop!  This story is good, so settle in, get comfy, and get ready for the ride of your life.
It all started in June of 1979 when I was just a fetus in my mother's womb.  I knew that place was pretty sweet, but wasn't a place for a mover and shaker like me, so in March of 1980 I broke out.  I was born in a military hospital in Sicily, the first child, and went home, screaming, with my parents.  Right from the beginning, I'm told that my head had to be held up so I could look around.  I was destined for greatness.

#tbt to Christmas, 1980. It's me!!! Look at that flawless hair, Brown carpet and "wood"paneling! #toofabulousforyou #80sbaby #80schic. #nofilterneeded

A photo posted by @kristens6102 on May 21, 2015 at 5:41pm PDT

I grew up in a single parent home.  My mom raised me and my sister alone stating shortly after my sister was born.  Our mom was and still is a tough lady.  When I think back on my childhood, I inevitably picture my mom looking at a product, thinking about fixing something, etc. and can hear her saying "I can do that!"  There was never a question about it.  She worked full time, took care of us, made Barbie clothes, made us poodle skirts, mowed the lawn, fixed the car...you name it, she did it.  She did it out of necessity but she also did it because she could.  I loved watching her start and complete projects.  My inner feminist was awakened-and I still always hear that voice "Hey-I can do that!" when something needs to be done.

Happy Mother's day!!!

A photo posted by @kristens6102 on May 10, 2015 at 7:06am PDT

Over the years I've dabbled in fixin'.  I mostly have left things to my husband but his schedule is prohibitive and I actually want him to spend time with our daughters when he's home.  Some of it was out of financial need (like re-attaching my van's exhaust to the frame with a kit I bought at NAPA and a coat hanger) and some, like the tale I'm leading up to, were out of stubbornness, a will to DIY, and the availability of YouTube "how to" videos.  Sorry for so much Clarkson-it was the first comparison my husband drew between how amazing I am at fixing things.

The first fix I attempted was our dishwasher.  This was a few months ago and, when I'd try to start it the thing would make a weird sound then not turn on.  I searched online and found that it was probably the disposer in the bottom of the dishwasher.  I decided to find directions, take that sucker a apart, and fix it.  And, you know what?  I did it!  It took me an hour or two, but I took the whole thing apart, found the offending bits, removed the pieces of bone from the disposer, and put it back together.  The dishwasher worked. The dishwasher worked!!!!  I was ELATED!

Now, just a few weeks ago, the washing machine stopped draining.  After taking it all apart (and I mean all of it) I diagnosed the problem: the pump.  This particular washing machine is amazing, 14 years old but works like a charm.  I, however, didn't want to spend $300 to fix it, and didn't want to buy a newer, cheap machine, so I had to fix it, myself.  I bought a pump on EBay, but it was the wrong one.  So I returned it.  Then I bought the right pump on EBay.  I got it home.  I installed it.  No luck.  The washer was not spinning, the pump was working, but something was wrong.  I put everything back together (after I took it all apart, again) and started the washer, again.   It sprayed water all over the entire bathroom.  I asked for help, to whoever was listening, and quit for the night.  In the morning, I had an idea of what exactly to search for and was able to find pictures of what the guts of the washer should look like.  I found out that I had put a tiny plastic cog over something instead of under.  I replaced everything.  The WASHER WORKED!!!!!




Clearly, this incident is indicative of the fact that I am freaking amazing.  But, not just me, all of us are!  I don't have any special skills, but I do have YouTube, a give 'em Hell attitude, and that little voice in my head that says "Hey, I can do that!"  Thanks, Mom!

Making a Weeping Angel with a Dollar Store Doll and feeling very uncomfortable in the process.

Trying to complete a Doctor Who themed craft for my daughter's 10th birthday got weird.  I'm not a naturally crafty person, but I'll try just about anything for a birthday party now that they're old enough to remember them. 

First, I looked up different ways to create them.  This blog seemed the easiest to follow and looked pretty cool. 

We went to the Dollar Store and picked up two lovely 10"dolls.  This is where it starts to get weird.  Quick disclaimer about the messy kitchen:  normally I would put away or at least move the mess out of frame but I was on a time crunch and it was late AND I wanted the girls to help so we HAD to get this done-on top of the party supplies. 

First, I stripped the dolls and bent those ladies over.  After a whispered apology I stuffed a skewer in through the uncomfortable parts and all the way up to the head.  That is one BIG bonus to working with cheap, hollow dolls.  They are very easy to skewer.

Next, we cut the arms at the elbow (the kids were especially gleeful about this part) and chopped off their hair.  

Next, we hot glued the hands over the eyes, and the forearms to the elbows, and then started assembling the gown.

We had decided that our Angels would be clad in nothing but the best-Dollar Store Surgical Masks and Foam Board wings.  So, we got to work!  We shaped the dresses, hot glued them on the Angels, added the wings, tied a string around the waist, and were very pleasantly surprised with the results!

Finally, it was time to paint.

We did a base coat of Mineral Blue, then a top coat of an ivory.  My daughter thinks they are AWESOME and has already declared this her best birthday ever.  I'm pretty happy with them and SUPER happy with the price tag (about 2.50 each) 

Now, like the original blogger, we have to find a shelf or place by a mirror so that they don't get us!

Remember- DON'T BLINK!  

Sometimes, it Just sucks.

So, there I was, reading this article about the "sweet spot", getting all misty and realizing that if I am not in the parenting sweet spot, I'm pretty darn close.  I can take the minions to the beach and relax, I can let them play outside unattended, I am starting to feel like a person again!
Then it happened. 
We went to Wal-Mart-Mart.  Now, I'm not saying that this store is a horrible hellscape where souls are taken in exchange for cheap consumer goods, but we had a rough trip.  Child #2 whining and crying (for the second day in a row) about how mean I am because I won't buy Goldfish crackers.  And I can't buy Goldfish crackers, even if I wanted to, because of how she's acting.  You know what I mean.
We buy a bag of Kisses, soft taco ingredients because there should be leftover taco meat at home, and a few other things.
We get home.  FINALLY!!!  Look in the fridge- my heart sinks-no leftover taco meat.  Drop non-perishables, send oldest to crate the uber destructive dogs while we're gone, run to the store to get the meat.  Go back home.
Start bringing in the groceries.  The oldest comes to me with a look of concern.  "The dogs are the soft tacos," she says, "and the chocolate-all of it." 
"GET THEM IN THEIR CRATE!  We have to get back to the store."
The kids are back in the car. 
I bellow "Jesus Fucking Christ" at the empty wrappers strewn around the kitchen.
I get in the car.  A stream of Fuck-based profanities escapes my body like none I've ever shared in front of my kids.  I apologize, laugh, say "well, now you know how to use that word."  look in the rear view mirror, they're trapped between laughing and terror of this "new" mom.
We return from the store, I'm cooking the long awaited taco meat.  I hear screaming and crying from the yard.  The youngest child has decided to pee in the yard and has pissed all over herself.  Now she's squatting,  crying and screaming.  I get her inside-into a bath- then to dinner.  No one is happy.  Everyone is embarrassed.  We just have to make it to dinner.  GODDAMN IT!!!!

Sometimes you just try to make it to soft tacos.  Sometimes it sucks.  Then you try to remember you've handled much tougher stuff.  You're in the sweet spot.

Some Rules for My Girls

Girls...oh man.  I never thought I would have girls.  Let alone two of them.  I was the girl who always stayed close to guys because they are so much simpler to deal with.  I was the girl who had a few girl friends but never wanted to be involved in the fight to be popular or cool or anything.  I just wanted to be me-quirky, happy, musical theater me. 

Now I have two girls that I somehow have to help become functional adult women at some point.  How do you do that when you never really were "one of the girls?"  How do I help them become the kind of girls who like themselves, are kind to others and more, when those were not traits that I associated with girls when I was in school?  I've come up with a few guidelines:

1.  No Bullshit.  This is a general rule that I have and use it in my brain (but not out loud).  When I know that there is a sizeable amount of BS spewing from my daughters I have to call them on it.  I really despise how so many girls/women use baby voices, play dumb, or play up drama to get what they want.  If you are not a 10 year old, don't act like one to get what you want.

2.  No Drama.  Do not be that girl.  Do not be that girl who gets mad, pouts, stomps away but waits for everyone to come chasing after her.  They may chase after you right now, while you're little-but that shit gets old fast.  No one wants to hang out with the foot-stomping, pouting, whiny girl who takes off at the first instance of things not going her way.  If something is wrong, refer to #1.  Address things with people.  Be straightforward and honest and don't play games.

3.  Never be afraid to be yourself.  Do you like trucks? Computer Coding?  Ballet?  Frogs?  Cheerleading?  Basketball?  Be you.  Whatever that is.  Stop trying to figure out what everyone likes and be yourself.  You are great!  If you know who you are and what your core values are it's easier to stay true to them.

4.  Don't go for the exciting/dangerous guy or group of friends.  Trust me.  There is nothing but an ocean of shit waiting for you there.  Don't go for people you "can fix."  You can't.  No.  You can't fix them.  I know you think you can but you can't.  Be around people who challenge you to be a better you, support you, and treat you the way you treat them.  Plus, they should make you laugh.   

5.  Forgive yourself and move on.  You will make mistakes, and life will get messy from time to time.  Forgive yourself learn your lessons, and move on.  Forgive other people, too.  It feels great.

6.  Believe in yourself but don't take yourself too seriously.  Your problems will never be more important than anyone else's, and you need to be able to figure out how to get out of tight situations without losing your mind.   You need to be able to see the humor in situations, and you also need to be able to have perspective.  If something's not working out the way you want it to-big deal. Figure out a way to make it work for you or just deal with it until things come around.  The beauty of life is that nothing is permanent and you can always find another way-but not if you're convinced that your original plan is the only way to go.

A Haunting Tale. 5 Reasons Why I'm A Ghost Haunting My Children

I have come to the realization that I am a ghost haunting my children.   There is an overwhelming amount of evidence to support this claim, and that is what I intend to do.  I think that you will find that you are also a ghost.

1.  My children often speak to me in general but cannot hear my replies, or,when I speak to them, they can't hear me at all.  I used to think that they were just ignoring me but now I think there is a semi-penetrable veil of time and space between us and they occasionally get glimpses of me or hear my voice  from a far.

2.  I often have to resort to making electronic devices disappear or not work at all, and, in extreme occasions, stomp around or slam doors, to get my point across or to get them to pay attention.  I realize that this is kind of a hack-y ghost trick-used in all of the movies, but sometimes it's all I've got!

3.  I occasionally turn up in pictures or video when not expected.  I'll be getting dressed or doing dishes or some other task and-boom- there I am!  I'm always a little shocked when I'm captured on film, so I must be some sort of mythical creature.

4.  Apparently I am a magical "finding" ghost since I'm the only being in the house who can find "ANYTHING."  When I am summoned with the words "Mommy, I can't find ________" I appear where I am needed, and TA-DAAAAA!  I find the socks, or toy, or whatever.

5.  I can do things all day long, a multitude of tasks, and the only thing that they notice is that I've moved something.  Suddenly it's a catastrophe- "Where is RAINBOW DASH???" I hear.  I spring into action.  I've been summoned!

Being a ghost can be difficult and challenging but I think you'll find that haunting your family can be quite rewarding.  If you haunt them long enough and do a satisfactory job, I'm told that you can even turn into a real person some day-some time after they turn 18.

The Jem Trailer is here...and it filled me with rage.

I grew up watching Jen and the Holograms.  My sister and I would poor up our hair, paint our faces like Jem and Kimber, touch our earrings and say "Showtime, Synergy!"  We loved that Jem was the CEO of her own company, struggled with her double life, a great guy, and always defeated the Misfits.  We didn't know it at the time, but it was more than just a silly kids cartoon.  In my childhood, it was really the only time we saw a female character take charge, be smart, and kick ads!  She wasn't someone's sidekick!  She was the HBIC!  We loved Jem.  We wanted to be her not because she was good at manipulating men or was pretty, because she was talented and stood up for herself.

 

This show meant so much to me that I introduced it to my girls.  They felt the same way.

Naturally, when we found out that there was going to be a Jem movie we were thrilled.  Then we watched the trailer (below)

 

 

What, in the name of all that is Holy is that?  That's not Jem!  Why the Hell would they turn Jem's awesome story into some stupid teen drama?  Jem is supposed to be a grown woman!  Where are the Holograms?  Where is the sense of how goddamn cool Jen is?  Where the frick are the Misfits?  That's Rio? NO! 
Honestly, I don't even know how to end this post.  I just....ugh.  Feel free to write profanity filled rants in the comments.  Jem wasn't perfect, but she was pretty damn great.  Maybe some day they'll get it right.

Working Out...again

I knew that starting to run again at 35 would be hard on my body, but I didn't know it would be this hard.  Running now, while it feels great in the moment, has introduced me to a level of discomfort I didn't know existed.  I know it's not because of how out of shape I am-because I am not that much more out of shape than the last time I really got serious about my physical fitness.  The main difference is that now I'm 35-when before, I was 29.

Look at how YOUNG and energetic I am!!!!!

When I was 29 and started working out again, I had two young kids but could find an hour to work out during their nap times 5 days a week.  5 DAYS A WEEK!!!  I would do push ups, ab work, cardio, weight lifting, and my body LOVED it.  Sure, I was sore, but it went away quickly.
Last week I started a Couch to 5K workout.  It is 3 days per week for 30 minutes.  That's it.  I'm now on week two.  Today I thought I might have to amputate my legs after doing the workout for 31 minutes.  

This is honestly what I looked like when I got off the couch a few hours after my run.

This is something I have never experienced before.  I know that the workout is not the problem.  It feels great to move my body and see my times improving.  I like feeling my muscles move and seeing them change after just  a week.  I like knowing that my body can do what I need it to do.
Before, when I was 29, my body just cooperated with me.  My body said "sure, we can do this!"  I said "Do More!" and my body said "YES!!!  MORE!!!"   Now, at 35, I say "can we please, please, please go for a little run today?  My body sighs and says "Fuck off, not now, I want to take a nap"  and I'll say "well, we really need to" and my body says "okay...but you know what that means for you later..."

Now I know.  Right after my run I felt great.  Loose, long, lanky muscles, tired, sweaty, satisfied.  A few hours later I felt like the crypt keeper.  I felt like my legs, feet, ankles and brain were screaming at me with every step.  "WHY!!!!!  Why????  This is week 2!  It should start to feel better now...not like torture!!"  But I know, this is all part of getting older.  I'm fortunate that I can get in shape, train for a 5K, challenge myself but I know that this is going to hurt like Hell.  That's okay-I'm tough.