Monthly Archives: October 2012

tuesday tip — dodge the bad news on monday.

When I come into work on Monday, the day is already crappy because it’s Monday. This isn’t my job’s fault. It’s really no one’s fault but Monday’s. No matter what occupation you hold, even if you’re a stay-at-home mom, even if you’re a Seventh Day Adventist, I bet you hate Mondays. They just suck, no matter who you are.

Sorry, Monday. Don’t be mad at me. I’m just stating the facts. No one wrote a song about a Manic Tuesday, okay? And The Cure never said, “It’s MONDAY, I’m in love…” Hate to break it to you, Monday, but everyone agrees that you’re the worst.

The first thing I do when I sit down at my desk on Monday is check my email and the real estate websites I subscribe to on my Google reader to see if there’s any good industry-related blog fodder. (I’m a copy writer for a real estate website, by the way, in case you didn’t know.) But, because I’m such a news-fiend, I also subscribe to a few local and global news outlets.  You know, just to stay informed.

The problem with letting my Google reader lay dormant over the weekend is that the news section kind of explodes.

Exhibit A:

 

429 news articles? Good grief!

At first, I used to scroll through them really quickly so I could at least read the headlines. But you know what I found out?

Good news rarely makes it to my Google reader. 

“So and so people died in so and so country’s natural disaster…” “So and so number of soldiers can’t go home to see their families this Christmas…” “Kim Kardashian and Kanye West are actually a thing…”

Blah.

By skimming the headlines, even avoiding the actual articles, I was starting out an already crappy day by adding more crap to it.

And so recently I’ve changed my pattern. Now, when Monday rolls around, the first thing I click on in my Google reader is the Mark All As Read button.

Silence. So golden, right?

You see, when you know something is going to crap up your mood, why do it? Why stalk your ex-boyfriend’s Facebook page if you know it’s just going to stress you out? Why try and squeeze into the skinny jeans in the back of your closet that you know you haven’t been able to fit into since high school? Why squeeze the pimple on your face to smitherines when you know it’s going to make you bleed?

Why? Because that’s how we’ve always done it.

We’ve always opened our Google readers on Monday and just accepted that we’re going to be overrun by a tsunami of terrible news. It’s just how we’ve always done things, even if it sucks.

You know what? Doing something just because you’ve always done it is the worst reason to do something. Like. Ever.

Shake it up. Start your week by avoiding bad news. Maybe start your Monday by seeking out good news (or YouTube videos of kittens in lieu), or finally unfriending your ex, or finally cutting those damn skinny jeans into rags because good GOD girl, let them GO already!

1 Comment

Filed under commentaries, life, psychology, transformation

things i love thursday! (october 25, 2012)

Wow you guys. I haven’t been this sleep-deprived since HAHAHA OH WAIT I JUST ALWAYS AM SLEEP-DEPRIVED BECAUSE I’M A NEW MOM AND THAT’S JUST LIFE.

Anyway. In lieu of a nap, here’s my weekly love list. Voila!

THINGS THAT MADE ME SMILE THIS WEEK:

  • Smiles and coos from my little boy.
  • Writing songs with a good friend.
  • My mommy came to town for a couple days!
  • Got to see the Pooles again and hang with baby Jack.
  • Calling Dax a sack of potatoes. Because he is one.
  • When trying to figure out lunch options: ME: “Oh. We have a voila.” MOM: “What’s that?” ME: “Instant stir fry.” MOM: “Oh. Voila!”
  • Making mad music.
  • Carrying around a napping baby in a sling. Call me crazy but I love to wear my kid. Like skinny jeans.
  • Skinny jeans, for that matter. Particularly, wearing PRE-PREGNANCY skinny jeans.
  • Eric’s Dax voice.
  • @HonestBaby and @HonestToddler — seriously, all parents should follow these Twitter accounts. Sheer hilarity.
  • Scream-singing to my child (and my entire neighborhood, for that matter). I’ve found that, as far as my kid is concerned, pitch and key do not matter as much as sheer volume does when it comes to lullabies. (Sorry neighbors.)
  • Humbling gChats.
  • Bathtime cuddles. (LOOK AT THAT FACE, I CAN’T EVEN.)
  • Cupcakes.
  • Finding someone to watch Dax on Tuesdays.
  • Getting sweet emails/messages from friends who are thinking about having babies. (If you’re on the fence, PLEASE GO FOR IT! HAVE ALL THE BABIES!)
  • Seeing my friends chase after callings, even when they’re scary.
  • All you can eat sushi.
  • Encouraging tweets.
  • Libby on the drums!
  • Using “Instagram” as a verb.
  • My husband’s dad beard is finally not so scratchy. His ghost-stache, however…
  • Sweet, selfless friends.
  • #fatbottomgirlprobs

YO. Whatchu love this week?

1 Comment

Filed under baby love, faith, gushes, life

if only you would rest.

Our baby boy is now three months old and, unfortunately, has decided he’s too old for naps.  A 30-minute snooze here, a 45-minute conk-out there, but nothing substantial. It’s quite the challenge to get this boy to lay down AND STAY DOWN for an hour or more, despite his obvious developmental (and emotional) need for quality shut-eye.

I suppose he takes after me in this regard. I gave up napping at just eighteen months but Dax, the overachiever that he is, is trying to beat me on this one.

During the day, he’s happy as a clam to go nap-less. He smiles and coos, causing us to get dopey-eyed and do the same, all the while distracting us from the imminent doom that awaits us come bedtime.

When the sun goes down, our son’s blood pressure rises along with sizable shrieks of protest. We change him into his snuggly pajamas and try to avoid bursting into uncontrollable sobs as we clutch the angry, writhing child who, somehow, becomes stronger than us at night, against our weary chests and attempt to rock him into oblivion.

As my spirits sink, I find myself dejectedly repeating a plea in my head:

Oh, Dax, if only you would rest. If only you would shut your little eyes, stop screaming, and let yourself fall asleep once and for all. You would be such a happy child. You would be so safe. So sound. If only you would stop fighting me and just find rest in my arms.

After what feels like an eternity, he does finally nod off into the deepest, most restful sleep possible. He face-plants on our bed for hours and hours, completely still, as if he wasn’t just a mass of flailing arms and legs mere minutes before. And each time I think, See? Isn’t this better than fighting me? Isn’t this rest better than the anguish and pain?

I imagine that, as he ages in infancy and gets more accustomed to our bedtime routine, this will get better. And then, when he’s old enough to understand the implications of rest and sleep, he will resume the bedtime battle, as if he is suffering from amnesia in only one tiring and frustrating way.

As I transition through this identity crisis (that is, going from the go-to girl for everything to a 100% committed mom) it’s hard to find my center. It’s hard to focus on the good, rather than the bad. It’s hard to not be bitter about having to work, or not being able to be involved in the things I used to be involved in, or that my friendships have to be much more intentional now that my free time is basically null and void. Consequently, in my prayer time, I have found myself calling out to God selfishly, sinfully, demanding, “Why is my life ___ way as opposed to ___ way? Why am I ___ kind of person and not ____ kind? Why are things happening the way YOU want them to as opposed to the way I want them to?”

Last night, as I was falling asleep and praying this familiar prayer, I heard my own voice respond back,

Oh, Lindsay. If only you would rest. 

My heart stopped. I went still. I listened some more.

Oh, Lindsay. If only you would rest. If only you would stop fighting Me and let Me love you. If only you would realize what plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. If only you would close your eyes and stop fighting Me. If only you would rest.

Indeed. If only.

5 Comments

Filed under baby love, commentaries, faith, God, life, transformation

friday favorite: not taking myself too seriously.

My favorite thing about myself this week is that I don’t take myself too seriously. Life’s too short for that nonsense. I’m never too proud to make others laugh at my own expense. Case in point: this video I shot for an upcoming event at my church:

E3 X Factor Promo Video from Jermadem on Vimeo.

Disclaimer: I’m not that tone deaf. Only a little tone deaf. 

Tallahasseeans: I better see you at E3 on October 26th at 7PM! Some amazing singers will be battling for the winning title and I’m in the band, tickling some ivories and dropping some mad BGVs (no solo performances for me, thankfully).

2 Comments

Filed under commentaries, friday favorites, gushes, life, psychology, transformation

falling.

It’s autumn now which, where I live, means that you can walk from your car to the coffee shop without beginning to perspire profusely (profusely being the operative word, here). You can order a hot latte instead of an iced, if you’d like (or not, if you don’t like) and you can wear a cardigan if you want (or not, if you don’t want) but you are probably still rocking your $2 Old Navy flip fops because REALLY, PEOPLE, IT’S NOT COLD ENOUGH FOR YOUR UGG BOOTS JUST YET, ADMIT IT.

The majority of a Floridian year (March to mid-October) is actually just “summer.” While the rest of the country is sipping hot cocoa and wrapping scarves around their necks, we’re still armpit-deep in a season which, solstices and equinoxes aside, never fails to arrive earlier than we want it to and always, always overstays its welcome. And so, when the relatively “cooler” temperatures finally do show up, they always provoke within me the contemplation of the year at hand, the one that’s steadily slipping away.

How is it fall already? I swear it was just yesterday I was clinking glasses of non-alcoholic champagne at midnight to protect the precious, not-yet-public life growing within me, cheering on the hopes and dreams surrounding the possibilities brought on by a brand new year. And now, with each falling leaf, another minute of 2012 simultaneously shrivels up and floats to the ground, only to be stomped on by an indifferent passerby.

Last Saturday, my group of friends gathered together in the morning as we do each month to eat breakfast and study the bible.

After we all settled down with our plates of donuts and pigs-in-blankets (I had roughly fifty of them… roughly) I quietly surveyed the room of my friends. It was filled with individuals — all unique, all special, all quirky and broken, yet undeniably lovable in our own ways — who have experienced enormous amounts of change throughout this seemingly endless summer:

  • The discussion was prepared and led by a good friend who, at the beginning of the year, before summer swooped in and melted everything, moved to Birmingham to be with his fiancee. The first of our friends to take a huge leap of faith and dive into something alien and unknown, but with the full knowledge that God was behind him 100%.
  • Several months later, in the dead heat of the Florida summer, we gave birth to a baby boy. A boy who, completely unbeknownst to him, would change our world (read: our community’s world, not just mine and Dan’s) for the better in ways we’ll probably never be able to accurately articulate. I can’t deny the fact that seeing that positive pregnancy test did send me into a minor panic attack at first, but once that subsided, I knew that God had a huge plan for us. And I was excited to embark on that journey with my husband and friends right beside me. (I was also excited for summer to be over because YOU TRY BEING 38 WEEKS PREGNANT IN FLORIDA IN JULY.)
  • A few months later, mere weeks ago, two of our friends got engaged and set a date to be married in March, the usual start of “summer”.
  • Another friend purchased her first house just a few weeks before Dax was born. As someone who has now gotten married AND had a baby, I have to say that I’d do those things a thousand times over before buying a home. At this point, homeownership scares the dickens out of me. I’m so proud of her.
  • Another good friend continues to be healed of an autoimmune disease right before our eyes through prayer and obedience. Oh, and her husband is getting a puppy.

A whirlwind of change over the course of this year — mostly this summer. All in one, tiny, apartment living room.

As I write this, I’m sitting in my favorite coffee shop, one whose walls are about 80% windows, and just on the other side of the glass, a man with a leaf blower is loudly clearing the sidewalks of all of the crunchy, brown, tell-tale examples of the season.

In a way, I feel like each of us is a dried up leaf, withered by the effects of the summer, by the steady passing of time over which we have no control, being violently pushed around by the gusts of change.

As if 2012, which came so quickly and is on its way out just as fast, wasn’t chock full of enough changes, there is already a handful of changes lined up for the coming year. New marriages. New locations. New jobs. New babies.

No matter how far away we end up, no matter how blown away we each become, no matter how stepped on or rained on we may get, no matter how different things end up, there is one truth to cling to: we have all fallen from the same tree.

And that won’t ever change.

12 Comments

Filed under commentaries, faith, God, life, transformation

friday favorite: tresses.

So. My hair is awesome. I know I complain about it from time to time, but honestly, it’s pretty rad. Here’s why:

  1. It’s naturally wavy/curly.
  2. It does pretty much anything I tell it to.
  3. It’s finally long enough so that I don’t have my weird short-hair phobia going on.
  4. Due to my laziness and apathy, I’m almost positive I started the ombre trend. Don’t waste your money, y’all. Just quit getting your highlights retouched.

What’s your Friday Favorite?

1 Comment

Filed under gushes, life, psychology, transformation

things i love thursday! (october 11, 2012)

And we’ve made it through another week! This one was way better than last week, by far. Here’s why!

THINGS THAT MADE ME SMILE THIS WEEK:

  • Playing music. Like. A LOT.
  • Eating lots of barbecue.
  • Seeing Libby play a show.
  • Letting Libby’s lovely folky goodness lull Dax to sleep in my Maya Wrap.
  • The Maya Wrap, actually. It’s so snuggly and wonderful!
  • Getting tons of sleep and cuddles with my baby boy.
  • Warm coffee in cool(er) autumn air.
  • Crunchy leaves!
  • Big salads. (Seriously.)
  • Getting to see the POOLES! They’re spoiling me, coming to town so frequently! I even got to hang out with Kylin!
  • She called us out for having a dirty kitchen, though.
  • Getting lunch with Zack and Libby.
  • LEMON CHICKEN SOUP.
  • Deep text message conversations and lengthy emails.
  • Finding a picture of what I believe is my son in the very near future. I’m serious. This picture makes me believe in time travel because I’m almost 100% positive that it’s my son as a toddler. http://pinterest.com/pin/24980972904400131/
  • LOOK AT THOSE CHEEKS.
  • ERMAHGERD! GERSBERMS!
  • “Project Dax Arthur.”
  • Dax was SO vocal last night. It was as if he was telling Dan and I all about his day. Ugh. Can he stop growing up so fast?
  • He’s huge.
  • Braids in my hair.
  • “Who the HECK wants to die alone…?”
  • Being a creepy stalker on the internet.
  • My husband using his horribly unkempt lazy beard to scratch my back. (Still shave it though, babe.)
  • My friends Kyle and Rebekah got engaged! Wooot! Bring on the wedding party times!

I’m sure there’s plenty more. But I’m out of time, ha. What about you? Leave your list in the comments!

5 Comments

Filed under gushes, life, reasons my husband rocks, transformation

the crazy cat lady.

Seven (seven!!!) years ago, a friend of mine called me up and said, “I know your aparment complex doesn’t allow pets, but my mom just found a box of three four-week-old kittens. One has died, I’m taking one, and the other one needs a home. Will you take him?”

Even though my apartment complex did, indeed, forbid pets, I told her I’d come over to “take a look at” said four-week-old kitten to “see” if I’d “want” it. As if anyone with a soul is going to look at a four-week-old kitten and be like, “Nope, sorry, good luck not dying like your sibling did, pal.”

That’s how I ended up with my first cat. I named him Romeo, after the Shakespeare character, because he was loving to me and only me and was rather intense about it.

So Romeo and I spent a lovely five and a half years together as a team. Me and Romeo. Romeo and me. No other cats to distract my attention. All Romeo, all the time.

Until June of 2011.

One day, I had to stop by the house after work for something on my way to a meeting. So I zoomed home, ran up the steps toward my front door and, as I was running, caught a small, black fuzzy thing in the corner of my eye.

“Please don’t be a kitten,” I prayed.

It was a kitten. Of course it was a kitten. A freaking four-week-old kitten with an eye infection, teetering on the edge of life. Damnit.

I scooped up the little dying furball and ran inside. I tossed him at my poor, unsuspecting husband and said, “I’m sorry. I have a meeting to run to. Please do something about this.” And then I left.

A $70 vet bill later, we couldn’t just set this kitten free. So he was ours. We named him Hamlet, because “Romeo and Whiskers” just doesn’t sound right and he is dressed in all black and acts out in outlandish ways, much like his Shakespearean namesake.

So. That’s how we got Romeo and Hamlet. Normal, right? At that point, I wasn’t anywhere near crazy cat lady status. I was just a girl with two cats.

But you see, it didn’t stop there.

Since we took Hamlet in at such a young age, his mother began to hang around. Feeling quite sad for her, what with the loss of her only begotten son, we started to feed her. And so we named her Gertrude, after Hamlet’s mother in the actual play.

Fair enough.

But then, other cats started to show up on our doorstep demanding food. Gertrude even took a suitor, whom we named Claudius. Okay, that’s cool, can’t fault a girl for shacking up right?

But then she got pregnant. Ugh. Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

So that makes two cats on the inside of our house (Romeo and Hamlet) and four outside.

Until Gertrude got pregnant again. By Claudius, we assume, but who knows. (Does it matter?!)

At that point, we just gave up and decided to name all future cats to come into our lives via this avenue as The Players.

Our friends thought we were nuts. When we went out of town, we’d have to have someone come feed Romeo and Hamlet, of course, but also the entire cat population in our neighborhood that we felt a heavy obligation to.

Someone once told me that I was an anomaly because I am, and I quote, “… the only crazy cat lady in existence who actually got married, too.” I don’t see why adopting every cat that crosses my path makes me “crazy” rather than “more loving than all of you, Selfish McSelfishpants”, but whatever. An anomaly I is, I suppose.

When I think of a crazy cat lady, I imagine her sitting in her house, talking in a high-pitched voice to one of her thousand felines, basking in the attention they give her simply because she refuses to leave her house lest one of them mews and goes unnoticed. She is up to her ankles in litter and Meow Mix, and the only thing she gets in return is the thunderous roar of simultaneous purrs and a coat of cat hair on her lap so thick she could knit a blanket with it.

She cannot move on from this life. She is invested now. Invested, it seems, in something that is really only a detriment, both physically and mentally.

As a I dabbled with cat lady-dom, I felt way too close to that image for comfort. The fact that I couldn’t take a trip out of town without taking the entire cat population into account was disheartening at best, frightening at worst.

Luckily (???) some people broke into our house and stole all of our stuff so we had to move, leaving Gertrude and the rest of them all to die, probably.

I tell you that story, not to draw attention to the fact that, when it comes to cats, I could probably benefit from some sort of psychoanalysis, but because I think there’s a little crazy cat lady in all of us.

Yesterday, I had lunch with my good friend Libby. We talked about a myriad of good things, but at one point in the conversation I found myself begging and pleading with her to stay my friend despite my new-found responsibilities surrounding motherhood.

“I just don’t want you guys to forget about me, you know? I mean I had a baby, which means I couldn’t hang out with you guys on Saturday night, so I’m worried that you’ll all forget about me…”

My insecurities were just zooming out of my mouth like a freight train.

“That’s so silly,” she reassured. “We’d never forget you. That’s just your crazy cat lady talking.”

Huh?

Evidently, Libby refers to the voice inside one’s head that plays off of one’s insecurities, the voice that makes you feel like you’re not good enough the way you are and no one — except maybe your cats — will ever love you, is your crazy cat lady.

Ha. Despite the fact that she has to take a truck load of allergy medication before heading over to my house, that metaphor resonates with me more than she probably knew at the time.

Over the past several weeks, my crazy cat lady has been telling me that I’m going to be forgotten and replaced by my immediate circle of friends because I’m the only one with a kid. I’m the only one who, when invited out somewhere, has to take into account bedtimes and bathtimes and nursing times and if I’ll have the car seat or not, etc. etc. etc. My crazy cat lady wants me to believe that, because of all this, I’m less valued by my friends. I’m not the same Lindsay I was before, and they won’t love the new Lindsay. Or my kid.

My crazy cat lady doesn’t want me to leave the house. She wants me to stay where it’s comfortable, surrounded by a thousand cats (doubts, fears, insecurities) that bind me forever to a life of recluse. A life without reaching out, accepting love from other people who are real and honest and different. There is nothing beneficial from this thinking. Much like an actual cat lady, there is little return on this sort of thinking.

It’s all lies, of course. But the feelings are there regardless. My crazy cat lady is relentless.

What does your crazy cat lady tell you?

3 Comments

Filed under baby love, commentaries, life, psychology, transformation

friday favorite: black nails.

Not sure why, but I’ve always felt like a sexy vixen (rawr) whenever I paint my nails black. While it’s extremely rare that I have the time to paint my nails any color these days, I was able to snag some time last weekend to finally sit down and give myself a little nail-love with my favorite OPI.

I was always that girl who, at slumber parties, painted her nails something other  than pink or purple. I always went for the crazy, weird colors. And once I discovered black, well, I never went back, as they say. Therefore, I feel the most like myself when my nails are black, as weird as that sounds. And after a week of second guessing things about my character, it was nice to be able to bring myself back to center, even if it was in the most minuscule way.

Your turn! What’s your favorite thing about yourself this week? Comment, ready GO!

2 Comments

Filed under friday favorites, gushes, life, psychology, transformation

things i love thursday! (october 4, 2012)

Okay, you guys. If I can come up with a list of good things after the crap I’ve been through this week, so can you. NO EXCUSES, y’all. Let the positivity fly!

THINGS THAT MADE ME SMILE THIS WEEK:

  • Getting text message pictures like the one above from my husband while I’m at work.
  • The outpouring of support I’ve received over this blog post.
  • Seeing Mr. Nystrom snag a Mrs. Nystrom!
  • Reconnecting with friends from the past.
  • The view on highway 40 under a full moon.
  • Sushi.
  • Being a mommy.
  • Getting a text from my boss on Monday morning letting me know that the power was out at the office so I was to stay home with my baby for a few more hours.
  • Being able to drive for four hours without stopping to pee again. I’m like a new person with a new bladder! #pregnancy
  • Lunch with Angie at Panera with “bangin” salads.
  • Coffee.
  • Giving Dax a bath.
  • Painting my nails.
  • Buffalo chicken.
  • Books.
  • Sherbet.
  • Customer Service Week!
  • “Money Makers”.
  • Seeing a grown woman in a onesie.
  • Dax’s smiles and coos.
  • Good music.
  • Gift bags.
  • Friends who are secret-pregnant.
  • Encouraging text messages.
  • The blogosphere.
  • Seeing some real talent at my work talent show. Wow. So good!
  • My friends and family.

What do you love this week?

4 Comments

Filed under baby love, commentaries, gushes, life, psychology, transformation