Life's Little Pleasures

I've been thinking about all of the blessings in my life, especially the little ones that I tend to take for granted. A few things in particular stood out - things that, as I experienced them, made me so warm and comforted inside that I stopped and thought, Now this is a blessing. I just had to share a few - those small, seemingly unimportant details that help make up a merry whole.

A Clean Kitchen
I have decided that my kitchen is my personal home base zone. If it is messy, I feel like a slob, even if the rest of the house is tidy. If it's clean, the rest of the house doesn't seem so daunting, regardless of its current state. Right now it is in the "mostly clean but slightly cluttered" state, which is a big improvement from the "oh my God where do I start?!" state it was in earlier.

Sunshine on Snow
Something about the way the sunbeams glisten and sparkle on snow always makes me happy. The trees are wearing lacy shawls of snowflakes, and tiny fairy diamonds are hidden in pockets and hollows of snow on the hill behind my house.

A HoneyBaked Ham sandwich and hot chocolate 
Hot chocolate is a must on a day like today. I swear I can see my breath in my living room. Chocolate is always a blessing (at least to chocoholics like myself) but hot chocolate is in a category all its own. And come on, who doesn't love a HoneyBaked Ham sandwich? Especially when you are starving after a cleaning binge.

Little boys building Lego sets and singing
Right now both of my boys are building with their Star Wars Legos and singing "Happy Birthday, Jesus". Precious and priceless.

Coca Cola
'Nuff said.


It's a few days before New Years, and as this year is winding down I've been thinking about where I was this time last year and how things have changed. Rather than an actual "resolution"  - or like I usually have, resolution LIST - instead I am determining to make improvements. I want a calmer, more stable existence, with greater happiness and joy. Looking back at where I've come from, I see the direction I need to move to achieve it. Better health, better organization, greater patience - sure. But chiefly, greater JOY.

Christmas Craziness

You know that line in Silent Night? The one that goes All is calm, all is bright? SO not my house. Every year, my holiday happiness comes about 2 months too early, and by the time it is "OK" to start preparations, it has fled screaming. Yes, it usually shows back up, in fits and spurts. I get just enough enthusiasm to think going to Toys R Us with a 6 year old in tow is a fun idea. Yes, I AM crazy, didn't you know?

I remember when I used to plan ahead. Not just think about planning ahead - actually planning. Now, Christmas Eve rolls around and I think - Oh yeah, I have to cook something. Wait, I haven't wrapped any presents yet. I get so busy trying to plan my holiday I forget to actually have my holiday. I think I need to start planning this week for next year, and have one of my famous lists ready to go in JULY.

I love the holidays, really I do. I love the excitement of the kids. I love the fairy lights on the tree - once we finally get them on and LIT. I even love the elves who visit us each year. Seriously y'all, we have elves. Three at last count. They show up when the tree is decorated and watch the boys like hawks until Christmas Eve, when they run back to make their report. Ian has decided it is his job to keep track of them, so every morning we hear: *gasp* "Mom! Dad! Look, the elf moved! It was here, now it's over there! It's leaning on a different hand!..." He talks to them, explains things, and writes them letters to take to Santa. I'm waiting for the attempted bribery to begin.

So. Time to make the checklist for tomorrow.

1) Go to the hospital to see Father in Law

2) Finish Christmas shopping (you didn't really expect me to be finished already, did you? Seriously? I had to    scrap making gifts as it is...)

3) Wrap the rest of the presents and get them under the tree (we do have some wrapped under there, they are just from other people)

4) Go to Christmas Eve Service at church. (I am determined to make it this year, unlike every other past year when I've attempted and gotten there too late to find a seat or a parking space!)

5) Have some cocoa, chill with a holiday movie before 11pm.

OK. I can do this. Really. With the help of some elves. =)

Merry Christmas everyone! Check back for my restored sanity around, say, never. Or January.

Not Far Apart...

These last couple of days have been tough ones. There was shock and worry when we heard about my husband's father being in the hospital. There's been stress getting the kids taken care of - thank God for Nana! - and the frustration of not knowing what is wrong. Doctors have been scarce, and answers not forthcoming. Then there is the sadness of seeing this man confined to a bed, hearing the rasp and wheeze of his breath over the beeps of the myriad machines attached to his body by a forest of wires. I feel helpless, unsure what to do, so I offer support and comfort the best way I can - by being there.
In a way, it reminds me of my own Dad, the day before he died. Not that I believe Andy's father is about to die, but there are similarities. Luckily for me, the amount of time my Dad was robbed of speech and recognition was short. It sucked, knowing for a month that my father was going to die soon, but in another way it was a blessing. After the first shock of the cancer, I had the precious gift of time. I had 4 weekends to be with my Dad, to talk, to listen to music, to play cards the way we did for so many summers, and to drive around and visit places he grew up. The weekend before he died, Andy, Dad, and I got to drive to all of Dad's old haunts and listen to his stories of growing up, of his teenage years, of meeting my Mom. He sang "Travelin' Man" with the CD player, over and over. For a time, you could almost believe the cancer was a lie. He was so vibrant, so alive. That was the last time Andy saw him - the next weekend I got there and he was almost unable to speak. He managed to say "I love you" to me, and from that time on, he didn't talk again. The next night he died.
When Dad first died, I felt he was far away. I cried over the chances I'd lost to spend time with him, the fact that I'd never feel him hug me again, or tell me I was his "favorite little girl in the whole wide world."  My comfort was the irreverent image of him at a bar in Heaven, singing, drinking and smoking with his heroes - Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby, Rick Nelson. Instead, as the years have passed there have been times I felt he was close. I could almost smell him: that combination of cigarettes, cheap beer, aftershave, and Listerine. I see him looking out at me from Ian's eyes, and I am reminded of him when I see Ian walk. Ian swears there is a "ghost" that visits him sometimes at night, and rather than shrugging it off as the overactive imagination of a typical 6 yr. old, I choose to believe he feels the angel or spirit of the grandfather he never knew drawing near to him. We have always said that "Grandpa Bill" went to Heaven and pulled some strings for us, so that we could have Ian, because he was a struggle to conceive.
The holiday season has always been a tough one for me - when I was younger it meant time out of school, which I dreaded. I wanted the relative safety and dubious peace of school over the strain of being home. I have always escaped by spending time staring into the lights of the tree or out the window, dreaming of other places, of better lives. Even now, I tend to disappear into my own world. This year, I've been thinking of the words to Ryan's song "Not Far Apart", and they mean more than years past. It has been 7 years since Dad passed. As time goes on, I really have started to feel we are not far apart.

Early Morning Ramblings and Bits of Random Nothing

As you can tell from the title, this post has one purpose - to sweep away the cobwebs and fluff from my brain patterns. Have you ever had so many things on your mind at once that you can't focus on one? This is me. 7am and on 4 hours of sleep. So if you are looking for a deeper meaning in this one, well, you might as well stop reading now. Go look for Thoreau.

Mmmm, hot hazelnut coffee with cinnamon. I don't know what it is about that flavor, but I just love it. Could be that it reminds me of a happier time, when Ian was first in pre-school at church and I could stop twice a week on my way to work to pick up a cup and a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin top. Not that those times really were happier than any others, but my little boy was doing well, and my new baby was healthy and precious. Faith was stronger. Of course, I still can't brew exactly the right amount for one big cup. I don't know why, but I just can't measure it right. Guess this is another reason I need an espresso maker instead, huh?

I am so glad my semester of school is almost over. I'm not sure why, but this semester has been the hardest I've ever had. I'm not coming out on top like I'd hoped, but I am able to salvage most of my classes, and I've learned some tough lessons this go around, so I guess that counts for something. I am really looking forward to next semester, even though only 1 of my classes will count toward my degree and the other is a random extra class. I need the chance to breathe, and that extra class promises to be interesting. I hope.

Putting Ian on the bus this morning, I started thinking about "school days." It makes my heart smile and ache at the same time, watching his skinny little self scamper off to that big, yellow bus. I think, "God, how did he get so big already?", and "Look how little he is", and something along the lines of "ABC's and 123's - ah, those were the days." I loved school, from the time I was a tot. I loved being with friends, spelling tests, reading, even math. When I was older, I lived for band. And of course, any time I was at school, I was safe - away from the nightmare at home just waiting to turn on me. I was never one of those kids who would jump at the chance to stay home. Even if I had the flu, my Mom would fight to make me stay home. I remember many a day practically sleeping my way through the day in a feverish haze, because I didn't want to be home. I know that even today, walking into a school makes me feel happy and safe. It's one of the ways I know I want to be a teacher. Do kids get on my nerves? Absolutely. On a regular basis. But they also make me smile, and remind me of life's potential. Except teenagers - they just annoy me period. =D

I'm feeling the creative urge like crazy again these days, but it's unfocused. I want to make scrapbook pages. I want to cross stitch. I want another baby. I want to bake, to cook, to decorate.  Most especially, I want to write. A letter, a story, random musings on a blog - anything to help get my thoughts in order, and get some of this creative urge out while it lasts. My brain chases itself in circles so much, I'm amazed it doesn't fall down dizzy. 

Life is tough for everyone these days. Lack of income, high stress, climate changes, natural disasters - it seems like the world is spinning out of control sometimes. I like the "let's get back to basics" movement that is advertised all over TV - um, hello? Getting back to basics doesn't mean going out and spending more money on items to help you get back to basics. It means getting control of what is really, truly important. Food. Utilities. Shelter. Clothing. Laughter. Love. Time. It's a hard lesson, and honestly I'm fighting against it as much as anyone else. Having been unemployed for 2 years almost, it's getting to the point where things will really have to be scaled back. It's hard to make a child understand that he can't have the level of things he had before. It's hard for me to deny myself anything, and I'm an adult, but I am hopeful that not only will my family weather the storm, somehow we will come out on the other side stronger, and more grounded. I'm searching for a way to show my family, and myself, how to find greater joy with fewer resources. Of course, throw in a broken car, lack of a clothes dryer, and weeks where you have to choose between gas for work and food to ear, and it gets tough. 

Oh, and this cast. I've never had a cast before. At first I thought it would be cool, kind of an adventure. Now, I want to flex my ankle and scratch like MAD. And it's been less than 24 hours. This should be interesting.

Well, that's my random morning ramblings for today. Check back soon, same crazy lady in the same crazy place, and see what else spews forth, won't you? 

The highs, the lows, and the in-betweens

I've spent some time considering life these last days. Life is crazy for the best of us, and I realize everyone has ups and downs. Every life has highs and lows. Your average person goes along in the middle, or the "in between", with occasional up and down swings. Everyone gets the blues, or happy and excited about something. For those like me, those with bipolar disorder, life is more than occasional mood changes; it is a roller coaster ride of dizzying highs and bleak lows. Mania and depression, while considered opposites, are really two sides of the same coin. Like best friends holding hands, they tug each other back and forth.

All my life I've faced these crazy mood swings, but it wasn't until I was officially diagnosed that I was able to trace them back through the years. I finally understood that what I thought was normal was really a bit out in left field. Now, being able to identify the different stages helps me to understand myself and those around me better. 

What no one seems to "get" is how dangerous these upswings and downturns can be. In the midst of mania, creativity sparks. Words flow like wine. My mind races, I struggle to focus, and I'm overflowing with effervescent energy. I don't sleep, and I don't miss it. Stories, images, thoughts, dreams - they chase each other in circles in my mind until I absolutely have to get them out, usually on paper. One thing emerges as most important, and everything else has to fall in line, or suffer and fall by the wayside, because I've only got energy and attention for it. It's like being high - nothing can touch you. Nothing can keep up. It's delicious.

Sounds great, right? Being so high on emotion and creative energy that nothing can touch you? Boundless energy? Lots of laughter? Excitement, fun? Sure. But the other side of it? Dark, dangerous despair. In the blink of an eye, you can go from high and happy to desperately sad, and vice versa. I've had days where my insides felt as though they were cracking. You think, if you can just cry hard enough, it will stop hurting - but it gets worse and worse, until you feel yourself splintering. Your very soul aches, to say nothing about your body. You can barely function, can't wake up, don't have interest in anything. Imagine being lost in a perfect, wet, smothering blackness. It's hard to even breathe. 

The most dangerous thing about both of these phases? They are addictive. No one tells you - when you are struggling to get better, on a more even keel - that you will miss it. Like a drug, you crave these phases. For one thing, they are old friends, aren't they? You know them. They are a part of your personality, your life.They shape your opinions, both how you view and how you handle, the world.  For another, the in-between of most "normal" people is really rather boring after awhile. Bouncy, excitable, happy manic highs are like too much champagne. Depressive phases are what I always imagined opiates to be. Drugging, slow, heavy. You want to move, want to act - but you just can't. 

When I'm in between, I am a totally different person. I look at the entire world in a different way. I remember thinking, the first time, "So this is normal? Really?" In between, I am a stranger to myself. It's not bad - it's just different.

I know this doesn't really fit in with the theme of "searching for bliss" - but then again, don't you have to understand something to accept it?

Some Thoughts on Happy Places

   You know that "happy place" in your mind people tell you to visit when you are stressed? Well, I have two. Which I choose depends on the day, the situation, and my mood. Number one involves a comfy cardigan, a quiet front porch, a cup of tea, and the rain. I can so easily picture myself there, perched in a chair or swing with legs tucked underneath me, cup of tea in hand. Watching the rain drops dancing with the flowers. Seeing the patterns in the puddles on the sidewalk. Listening to drumming water on the roof and soaking in the peace.

    Instead of the dreary gray most associate with a rainy day, my happy place is drenched with color. yes, the air is dark and heavy, but emerald grass shimmers and brilliant jewel toned flowers wave. Taupe sidewalks show patterns as the water soaks in. The air is soft gray through the steady rainfall. As my eyes wander, I take in the riot of color. Over there is rich brown - the trunks of trees along the sidewalk. To the right is the deep evergreen of bushes. To the left are radiant flowers - ruby, amethyst, opal. Sunshine yellow, deepest pink. Everything is framed by stark white porch rails.

   My second "happy place" is full of heat and light. There is an abundance of white - cool sheets under my body, filmy curtains wafting in a gentle breeze, soft linen on my body. Straight above is a tan and bronze fan, its whirring blending with distant birdcalls and the waving of palm fronds.Through the open, white shutters and french doors is the white and pale gold sand, and deep blue water of the beach. The air is light, golden with hints of turquoise, reflecting the colors outside. (I know it doesn't make sense, but it's my place, right?) I can lay here in total peace and repose, no one asking anything, and soak in the moving air and gentle sounds. Complete and utter paradise.

   Everyone needs a refuge, even in their own minds. Lucky for me, I have two. Two perfect worlds of calm and control. Worlds where everything is perfect, including me.

   Of course, I have two more happy places. Ones I visit every day. How much luckier can a woman get? =)

Order from Chaos - De-cluttering and Battling the Laundry Beast

Some days I think I can do this. Other days I wonder Can I do this? Still others it's I can't do this!
 I was the girl who never left home without her makeup, who was 15 minutes early for everything, and who always had a glib answer to every question. Now? Well, now I am perpetually late by 30 minutes, and I can never find my keys or my makeup bag (where IS that darn thing anyway?) If you ask me a question while I am doing anything other than sitting still, you might receive a blank stare for a response. Think Huh? and you've got it. You might ask "Why? What happened?" Well, I'll tell you.

Take a house. Add 2 dogs, 2 active boys, 2 cats, and an organizationally challenged husband. Turn it upside down, shake, and add 5 college classes and an ambitious SuperMom. Flip it right side up again. What do you have? Chaos. Complete and utter chaos.

Let me say now that I am the QUEEN of list making. I have chore charts, checklists, budget sheets, organizers. I have read and clipped articles about keeping things tidy, ideas for de-cluttering, cute plans for having the perfectly handled home. I bought a book called The House That Cleans Itself. I'm still waiting for it to start. I SO miss being organized.

Sometimes it makes me C-R-A-Z-Y. Especially when I read about bleached floors, handy little baskets, and pretty kids all in a row. Life is not how I pictured it. Not always how I want it either. But then I look around. Yes, there is clutter - but it is MY clutter. The drawings plastered on the refrigerator, the shoes I keep tripping over because my 6 yr old refuses to stop kicking them off willy-nilly. Papers piled on the table beside the computers. Toys all over the playroom. And laundry. Oh my God the laundry. Thank you Lord for my mother, who apparently enjoys laundry - or there would never be clean clothes. Seriously, there wouldn't. At the rate we go through them, I can't get them washed and hung up before they are in baskets, on the floor, in the hamper, or wherever the boys randomly drop them.




Before



After





The Books are Taking Over



All of these things are signs my loved ones are near me. Yes, I am still fighting the battle. In between homework, projects, and hastily pulled together dinners, I grab whatever is nearest and move it. Usually it is a shuffle from clutter on the table or counter to some out of sight drawer, but at least it's moving. Slowly. I have this fabulous plan - house is tidy, dinner on the table at 6 every night. Life moving like clockwork. Being the Mom who bakes treats for you class, who sews your costumes, and has fun up her sleeve all the time. You hear experts say you can't be SuperMom. I say why not? I'm not there yet, but by golly I will give it my best. I may be holding on to my sense of humor with both hands, but as long as teeth are brushed, clothes are clean, there is some form of reasonable food, and my kids are laughing, I am content.

Or at least I'm trying to be.



Books and Boys

I have always loved this saying. Most of the books in this picture can be found in one of my many bookcases. What are books to a person? To an imaginative 4 year old, they are doorways to magic lands. To a lonely 8 year old in a foreign land, they are friends and companions, something to pass the time. To an awkward and frightened teenager, they are comfort and escape from the darkness. To an adult, they are old friends. Full of life lessons, ideas, magic, history - books are constants in a world that passes in the blink of an eye.
One of my favorite quotes is from the movie You've Got Mail, even if it is delivered by a tweed-coat wearing computer phobic author obsessed with the sound of an electric typewriter. He calls it the basic truth: You are what you read. Having loved books all my life, I couldn't wait to share the magic in their pages with my children.

Enter Ian. As a baby, he would toddle back and forth between the sofa and the bookcase, carrying board book after board book. "Read, Mommy!" he would say, over and over. Now, my pragmatic, freckle faced boy avoids storytime. Math and science whiz that he is, he shrugs me off when I say "Let's read a book!" This is the child who, when asked to draw a picture, comes back with a bar graph and Venn diagram. There are times I look at him and think, "Who are you? What happened to my little boy who always wanted one more story? Where does this logical little mind come from?" As a confirmed bibliophile, I am out of my depth sometimes. I am anything but logical. I am impulsive, emotional, and impatient. Then he gets frustrated when something isn't perfect, or anxious over something we adults would find trivial, and I realize, so is he. Our minds may work in different ways, but he is still me. We share so much more than blood. We may not love the same things, or in the same way, but we love each other, and we are alike in more ways than we are different.



Then came Josh. The funny one. The artistic one. And once again, the stubborn one. If there's one thing my kids have gotten from me, that would be it. He was even less interested in stories and books at first, unless he had a crayon in one hand. Now he's a bit more interested. He's more interested in pestering his older brother.

It's taken me time to realize that you can't make your children what you want, or what you expect. What you can do is love them unconditionally. You can guide them, show them better choices, give them options, instill values, and expand their horizons. Share what they like and hopefully, open their eyes to the things you love. Like books.

Learning Happiness, or Mindful Gratitude

I was faced with a big decision, and after agonizing, worrying, and analyzing it to death for two nights, my answer came in the morning. "Look at this," said God. "Here's a reminder of the things you hold dear, the things you really want. Here's a reminder of past blessings.Here is inspiration to change your way of thinking."

Taking a walk with my boys, admiring the Halloween decorations and planning our own, is a joy all its own. Seeing their faces each morning, being there for hugs, homework, bedtimes, and even tantrums, is more important than money. Losing my job almost two years ago seemed like a disaster, but became a blessing. I have spent more time with my children than I would have been able to do otherwise. Cookie crumbs, cuddle time, and best of all  - spontaneous hugs, kisses, and "Mommy, I love you." These are my daily life, and when I am irritated and impatient, as I tend often to be, I need these reminders of the important things.

I attended the Interfaith Summit on Happiness featuring 4 religious leaders, including the Dalai Lama, and there I was presented with more evidence of those things I had just been reminded of. Happiness is not only possible, but the responsibility of each person. Happy people create happy ambience. Simplicity and mindfulness are of the utmost importance in acheiving true happiness. We don't get happiness from things we buy, but from things we do.

The saying "take time to smell the roses" translates to "take time to be mindful of your blessings." My goal is to keep a sense of humor in the midst of daily life, to make the most of opportunities to live, not exist. This is the first step to Pursuing Bliss.