"One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time" - Andre Gide
Have faith in yourself. Set the sails, pull the anchor and cast away. Feel the wind at your back and keep your eyes on the horizon. Dare to make your dreams your new reality.
For over six years I have had a moniker on the Internet. It has not always been the same. There was Cornfield Mama, Mountain Mama, Momof2, lostinsuburbia, with Motherboard being the last and the longest.
It's actually been quite fun for me, a game of sorts, to keep my identity a secret. It afforded me some personal privacy where I could share my real thoughts and rants. That is until my entire neighborhood started reading my blog. Then I had to start being careful about what I wrote about.
You know, you don't want to be the topic of discussion amongst the neighbors or congregation at church because of "that post you wrote."
But, I still insisted that everyone use my moniker. Whether you knew my real name or not.
I save my photos on my computer with the kids monikers-- and they actually refer to me as Motherboard. Which freaks some people out. Yes. We really do call Moxie- Moxie- and she knows who that is. If you ask her who Moxie is, she'll point to herself.
Is it healthy? Who knows. I just know the kids like it, I like it and that's all that matters.
When I started planning the conference, I was having mild panic attacks. MomBabe kept reminding me that I was eventually going to have to tell people my real name because realistically I couldn't promote it very well if I was sending out query letters with "motherboard" as the signature. Nor could I go on the radio or news and have it say Motherboard, with the Casual Blogger Conference. No one would take me seriously.
I have put off as long as I could releasing my real name... but its' done. The name is out of the bag. Want to know what it is? Go here and check it out. Then let me know what you think. Most people think I look like a Michelle. I sort of fancy Shaniqua.
While you're there, check out the agenda. We just released it last night, and it is jam packed! We have over $3,000 worth of classes for $149 (or $175 if you wait). Early bird tickets end tomorrow, and really? We're almost sold out. So, if you have been holding out to purchase them until the event was closer, I wouldn't. There won't be any left.
Me: (stumbling a bit) Uhh. Thanks? What great news?
Neighbor: Oh. You know. The news you're not sharing with anyone?
Me: No. I don't know what you mean... Are you talking about my conference?
Neighbor: No. The OTHER good news. You know, the news you are not telling everyone... (wink wink. nudge nudge. say no more, say no more.)
Me: I have no idea what you are talking about.
Neighbor: (sigh) Your new baby. Thing 2 has told the entire neighborhood that you're pregnant.
{Crickets Chirping}
Me: WHAT?
Neighbor: Now. Don't get mad. He's just excited. He said he hopes you're going to have a brother because he hates being the lone boy in the family.
Me: WHAT?? I'm... WHAT?? Seriously. WHAT THE CRAP?? He told everyone? Really?
Neighbor: yeah. When is it due?
Me: Umm. Like, oh, I don't know. Maybe around the date of NEVER! I'm totally not pregnant.
Neighbor: You're not? Really? Are you sure?
Me: Really. I'm 100% sure I'm not pregnant. I just started my question mark. I'm totally sure I'm not having a baby. Why would he SAY THAT?
Neighbor: Well, he said you parked in the "Expecting Mother" parking spot at the grocery store and he got really excited. He figured you just weren't telling him until you were sure it was a boy.
Me: Uhh. No. I parked there because it was the closest spot to the front door, and I'm lazy.
Today, find a photo of yourself as a child, put it in a pretty frame, place it on your desk or night stand and remember. That child had dreams, remember? Have you accomplished any? Write them down and choose one to make a reality.
It does to me, and I was. An addict that is. Once. Like in 9th grade. Sort of.
I mean, I would flip between The Walton's(don't judge) and DOOL and be able to pretty much figure out what was going on. I wanted to be cool-- so I watched it on the commercials of The Walton's.
Seriously. I was such a nerd.
I can't remember if it was Friday or Monday, but one of those days I would watch the whole show because I could get a recap of what had been happening. Then I would be able to talk to all the girls at school intelligently. About Soap Operas.
When in reality I was watching The Walton's.
I'm cool like that.
The other night, I couldn't sleep and flipped on the tube. Guess what I found? At 4am? Day's of Our Lives.
It was like watching a train wreck. I just couldn't help myself once I saw Bo and Hope. Fighting. Again.
Bo and Hope have been together, and then not together. Then back together, and then they break up again ... rinse and repeat for the last 20 years.
And there was Bobbie, only she wasn't Bobbie anymore she someones Aunt.
There was a couple of murder attempts, a coma and also some amnesia. Didn't they do that plot line in the 80's?
I did think it was weird that both Stefano and ViktorKiriakas were in the same room together. Playing alternate God-fathers of rival small town crime families. Or something dumb like that.
A lot of the same actors are there-- they just play different characters now-- which is really quite confusing.
Remember the Roman-Marlena-John Black love triangle? They have that now only its Sammy and EJ and Raef (i think that was his name)
Or what about the fact that Jack Deveraux died and came back to life. Three times.
How about Bo's best friend Patch and his girlfriend, Kayla? Don't you think she looks like Linda Hamilton? No? It's only me?
DOOL went through a strange period too-- They had some aliens, an exorcist type possession and a Scarlett O'Hara plot line. Complete with poofy dresses.
And you know while I was watching it the other night, in exactly 45 minutes, I was able to pick up the entire plot and know what was going on.
Exactly nothing.
I did the same thing that I did in high school too, while I watched that show-- I rolled my eyes. A lot.
In fact, I rolled my eyes so hard I was actually worried they had gotten stuck back there in the back of my head.
I'll take Lost any day!
****** Speaking of Lost . . .
What the crap??
Seriously? Have you been watching?
What is UP?
What are your theories? I thought I had a pretty solid one... but now? Not so much.
Let's discuss.
How's that for a short random Friday? Pretty good, eh?
Have a great weekend! It's going to be nice and warm. I think I might actually work in the yard. Or at least pretend to.
Catch ya on the flip side!
1. You Will Be My Ain True Love (featuring Sting) - Alison Krauss 2. I Hope They Get To Me In Time - Darius Rucker 3. Lips Like Sugar - Echo & The Bunnymen 4. Friends, Lovers or Nothing - John Mayer 5. Save It For Later - The Beat 6. Baby I Want You - Amos Lee 7. Seven Years - Norah Jones 8. Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own - U2 9. She Is - The Fray 10. Carnt Sleep - Saint Etienne
Recently my friend told me about another friend we have who was trying to get her to read a book. It is a "life changing book," apparently, and will rock our socks off in the world of wife-hood. I'm always interested in hearing how I can make my marriage better, so I was intrigued as to what this magic book was.
When I heard the title, I think I actually threw up a little in my mouth. Then I did a "NO she didn't" type of a jaw drop. I very well may be over reacting, but it just rubbed me the wrong way.
The title of the book was "The Submissive Wife".
Before I go any further, let me explain. I'm a feminist. But, not the kind of feminist that the world describes. I think feminism has gotten a bad wrap. There are those feminists that burn their bras, don't shave and are total man haters for impregnating us with their nasty man seed.
I'm not one of those.
Simply put: Feminism is an intellectual, philosophical and political discourse aimed at equal rights and legal protection for women.
Equality.
I think that most women would agree that they deserve to be treated equally.
When I heard the title of that book, it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I understand that it probably is a poorly titled book, but that word triggers my gag-reflex. Mostly because in the worldly definition of submissive it means that someone else is imposing their will and worldly definitions on me. (aka June Cleaver)
I do believe that God created me to be equal to Jefe-- his partner, and that we walk side by side-- not his servant. The wordly definition makes me feel like I shouldn't have my own thoughts, feelings or ideas, and I really believe that--me not having ideas or thoughts outside of marriage or child-rearing-- goes against what God had intended.
While I do believe that I have a purpose here on earth-- to create life, nurture life and grow people-- I don't believe that God intended that to be my only purpose. I have ideas, thoughts and talents that I believe he wanted me to cultivate and grow. Not hide away under a bushel .
The reason for this post is this:
Thing 1 asked me recently if I "believed all that crap". When I probed further, she wanted to know if I really believed that my only purpose here in life was to make babies, clean toilets, change diapers, do laundry and cook meals.
She had been told by another adult that being a wife and mother was all she was meant to do-- that to be a good wife and good mother meant she needed to submit her ideas, wants, desires, goals and likes to those of her spouse.
That really made her angry and she wanted answers.
(yes. she was totally taught this.)
Her question really took me off guard and I had to ponder it for a while.
I went back to her later and told her that No. I don't believe all that "Crap" . I don't believe that my only purpose in life is to simply be someone's servant-- cleaning, cooking, changing diapers. Nor was it my "duty" to change who God intended me to be and like only the things that my spouse liked.
I told her that I believe that Heavenly Father has made it so we, as women, can do and be anything we want.
I told her that we live in a time where we truly can have it all, it just doesn't have to be all right now, at the exact same time. We have a lifetime to become, to evolve.
And, that is the greatest blessing that feminism has offered us women-- The right to choose.
I chose to give up a successful career. I turned down my dream job to get married. I was given the chance to choose, and I did.
I CHOSE to be where I am today, and it makes me happy. I told her that I know that Heavenly Father intends for me to make the most of my life-- using my intelligence, my creativity, my mothering and my spirituality-- and to help better the lives of those around me.
Blazing feminists made it possible for me to choose, and I thank them.
Have you seen this movie? The Burbs with Tom Hanks? Yeah. Totally my parents and I am not even kidding.
They have these neighbors that used to live behind them and they were convinced these guys were Meth dealers. Whenever the guys (Because it was all single guys living there) would go out in the backyard to "play" my Dad would get out his binoculars and stand in his kitchen spying watching them.
And you wondered where I get my weird genes from?
It got really strange when the dudes started adding on to their shed in the backyard. In the middle of the night. They added a second wing. And then a third. They had a satellite dish on the roof. They would spend hours upon hours--into the wee hours of the morning-- in that mac-daddy shed. All of this according to my Dad, the spy.
Purportedly, the Meth heads would bring bottles out of the shed with liquid in them. Apparently, you could hear banging from the shed, and women screaming. All in the middle of the night.
One night, my Dad tried to pull a James Bond and sneak up on them. All in the name of spying. He went out the front door, into the backyard and army crawled across our back yard to the fence they shared so he could spy. Only he's not James Bond, he's SIXTY and they totally busted him. He made it back inside before they could give him a smack bottom.
We kept asking them why they didn't just call the cops go knock on their doors and introduce themselves. That's what normal people do, anyway.
Then one night, they were gone. Just like that. Gone. So long. Fare-well. Buh-bye.
My parents were still convinced that they were up to no good. So, during one of our family parties, guess what I did?
Yup.
I totally went out to the wood shed.
I drove around the block, I parked in front of the house and started snooping around. I was a regular little Nancy Drew. My heart was racing 900 miles a minute as I approached that wood shed. What if we opened that door and found a dead body? Or... or... Or something worse.
Like two dead bodies.
I opened that door and there were no dead bodies. There was, however, shelves and cable outlet boxes and mirrors. Lots and lots of full length mirrors.
Oh. And a security system on the door.
I got a little scared and ran away... After taking my photo peeking over the fence at my Dad.
Now, instead of standing in his kitchen with the binoculars, my Dad sits on his front porch with the binoculars. And we bust open watermelons with the garage door.
Depression is sort of a taboo subject in our society. People whisper "she's depressed" and they nod their heads knowingly at each other, as if it's some sort of contagious disease.
It's not.
I get sad. It's true, I do and I can't help it. Most of the time nothing has triggered the sadness. No one has died. I just don't feel... perky.
People don't understand that either. "What do you mean you're sad? Did someone die? Are your kids sick? Is your car broken? Does Jefe still have his job? Do you have a place to live? You have nothing to be sad about! Buck up little camper!"
I know all of that, but sometimes it's not that simple.
My favorite is when people tell me that if I would just focus on Christ more, or go to church more and read my scriptures better, thenI wouldn't be sad. "God fills you with love" they say. While that is true, and I really do believe that, it doesn't stop those stupid sad demons from invading my life.
Sometimes you can't just "shake it off". The demons come in, set up camp and start a bonfire. Most of the time I am able to evict them as quickly as they set up shop... but other times? Not so much.
I joke a lot about it, my depression, because it makes it easier to "deal with". I have actually named those pesky demons... Or as I like to call them, my Crazy Lady.
I call my inner Crazy Lady Estelle. I found a photo of her on the Internet. I printed it off, framed it and its sitting in my kitchen window. It's a reminder that I'm in control. Usually.
I tell her "today you will not win. You will not control my thoughts!" Sometimes that works. Other times not so much.
I haven't ever wanted to blog about my depression, because really? Who wants to read about that? It's... well, depressing.
The truth is this: I have fought depression for the majority of my life. It has always been there, simmering on the proverbial back burner. At times it boils over, leaving a huge mess. Other times, its contained rather nicely in a very pretty red pot that's called my life.
My adult life has been littered with various attempts to control Estelle. She comes and goes as she pleases, never warning me of an impending visit. She shows up at the oddest times, wearing out her welcome rather fast. She and I battle for my sanity.
Lately, she has been winning a lot.
My friend Heather wrote this amazing post about depression back in July that I have been unable to stop thinking about. She said something incredibly profound:
She is carrying this disease and she thinks she isn't and then sometimes she thinks she is this disease. She is me and I am her and she is them and she is not.
I haven't been able to get that last line out of my head. She is me and I am her and she is them and she is not. In reality she is me and I am her and she is them and she is not.
I have depression. I see myself in my children. Yet I believe that I don't have to see this part of me in them. That is my wish and my prayer. That I can control Estelle and teach my children to hold their heads high with dignity and embrace the life that God has given them.
Even if she does become them, she doesn't own them. They are so much more than Estelle.
There is a saying that has been floating around the universe that goes something like "The Song Remembers When."
I think being almost ancient (as my son put it this morning) I would have to agree.
The opening riff for this song immediately transports me back to the summer of 1985. What a great year that was. That riff sends me right back to the front steps of my dear old high school. I was fourteen and I spent that summer taking a summer Biology class.
It was a great summer.
I was furious, actually, at my Mother for signing me up for that class, but it ended up being the highlight of my summer. We took a field trip every single day and I saw and learned things that I never would have had I not been in that class. An entire summer hanging with my friends on a bus for five hours a day. What more could a kid ask for?
I saw Tears for Fears that year in concert. My parents dropped me off at Park West and I met up with some friends and we had a glorious time rocking out. (who does that? drop their kid off at a concert for the wolfs to eat?)
The opening riff reminds me of my teenage self-- the dreams I had for myself and what I "wanted to be when I grew up." If the fourteen year old motherboard could see me now, she would point and laugh manically. I wanted nothing to do with being domestic or motherhood.
The base in the song allows me to see that I was grounded. I had been taught the ways of the world, but how to not be of the world. My parents did a good job of letting me spread my wings and fly. I landed flat on my face a lot, but they were always right there to pick me up, dust me off and toss me in the air again. I wanted to fly, but I always knew where my ground was.
I hope I can be the same with my children.
I love this song. It reminds me of my youth, my innocence. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and give my younger self a heads up. "Don't do that; stay away from him; take this class. not that one. Stop worrying about others, and make your own entertainment. Be confident- you are an amazing kid!" I wouldn't necessarily want to repeat it all again, but if I could repeat it for a week or two with what I know now? I think I would.
I was talking with an old friend recently and he pointed out how it had taken him years to realize that those few short years of teenage-dom didn't need to define who he was today.
That is so true.
So, while my younger self might cringe in horror to see that I have become the antithesis of what she wanted, I can look her in the eye and truthfully say "It is so much better than you ever dreamed."
I am on this weird sleeping schedule, and it feels like I'm constantly fighting jet lag. I hate jet lag. I'll be awake from about 1am until about 4am and then I'll finally be able to go back to sleep. Until the kids wake up at the butt-crack of dawn. Or before dawn even had a butt-crack, really.
It has totally messed up my life.
My sister told me about this new bookmarking tool--Morning Coffee-- and let me tell you, I LOVE IT! I downloaded it the other night during one of weird sleep-capades, and spent some time learning how it works. I love it like a unicorn loves sparkly puffy rainbows, people.
It lets you load websites (or in my case blogs) that I like to read, AND I can sort them automatically into Days. Then when I click on the icon in the mornings, it loads all the sites I've book marked for that day. It has helped me control the blog reading that I do in a way that Google reader never did. Or could.
When I would log onto Google Reader it would taunt me with the amount of posts in it, and I would get overwhelmed and mark everything "all is read". I have been crazy busy, but I miss the interactions that come from commenting on others blogs. This new widget helps me tons. I can load only 1 day and it will only show me what I have put into that day. It's crazy awesome!
I have actually totally abandoned Google reader and loaded everything into Morning Coffee.
Yes. I am admiting to another torrid affair.
I really love this new fandangled gadget and it has helped me be able to get back on track with my commenting. I will load my Morning Coffee, and then check my email. By the time I'm done checking my email, I can click through all the sites that have loaded.
There isn't this insane amount of posts taunting me, demanding my time. It really is a breath of fresh air.
I have found some great new sites that you probably already know about. Which is par for the course-- I'm usually a day late and a dollar short. But, I'm going to share my new favorites with you anyway.
I totally dig his sweet crooning chords. Not to mention his voice. He is music to my ears and rocks my socks off!
His sound is reminiscent of Jason Mraz, Ryan Adams and Amos Lee-- all musicians that soothe my soul. His song Salt Lake City reminds me of Tom Waits.
Cameron Rafati has quickly become one of my new favorites. I pull up his site and just park it and listen to his playlist. Pretty much every day. I honestly can't pick a song of his that is my favorite. I love them all.
Imagine my surprise when I read that he is a local boy. Even better to stalk him with, my dears. You can join me in my stalkerish ways by parking yourself here and taking a listen while you visit all the other sites I'm linking up with.
You're welcome.
Simple Mom is one of my newest favorite haunts. I found it the other day when MomBabe and I were breathing at each other on the phone holding a conference call. We both squealed with delight when we found her site. It's beautiful and a wealth of information! I love the clean site design and all the categories. Get yourselves a Diet Coke girls, you're going to want to stay and visit for a while.
My Happy Little Life makes me happy every time I go visit her blog. It's another crisp blog that has amazing photos and recipes. I absolutely love how she takes her photos and turns them into Polaroids. I am deciding that I am more of a retro girl than I thought.
Passionista isn't a new haunt of mine, but it's one of my favorites. I have actually blogged about her before. Her taste in music is by far the best around. She puts a new play list up every month, and I have yet to hear something from her that I don't love.
The Chocolate Chip Waffle is another place I like to go for a calm read. I love her site like I love chocolate chip waffles.
Which is {THIS MUCH}
She doesn't just sling words up onto her pages she crafts them; Molds them into something spectacular. If you want to see a true wordsmith at work, check her out. She never disappoints in what she presents.
Myfriend Jo is crazy sick in the hospital. She is one of the many amazing people that I have had the pleasure of meeting in blog land. She is always happy and she is crazy funny. Not only that she is incredibly smart.
She is also one of the most genuinely kind people around. She will give you the shirt off her back if she thinks you could use it more.
Please remember her in your prayers and leave her a comment or two. She could use some cheering up.
Then lastly, my friend Shanna could use some love right now. She has had a very difficult thing happen in her life, and could use some support. Let's rally, girls! Pop on over and shower her with bloggy love, won't you?
Have a happy-holiday-that-shall-not-be-named, people!
* i totally got busted by my sister yesterday when i purchased jefe a gift at barnes and noble. i know i'm a total liar mcliar pants.*
I know, right? How can I expect to get anything "good" for the big V-day if I have an attitude like that and outwardly tell the Universe that I think it's a sucktastic holiday.
But it's the truth. I really do hate Valentine's Day, and here's the thing: I don't want anything, nor do I really need anything. Jefe provides me with an amazing life. I come and go as I please; eating lunch with my girlfriends whenever the fancy strikes and if I decide I need something, he usually buys it for me. He provides me with a cozy, comfortable life.
Just so you know, Jefe is the most thoughtful man around. I never tell him what I want—He just knows. He pays attention and is very attentive. I on the other hand totally suck at gift giving. I really do. I hate it when I have to try and think of gifts to give people because typically they are a #massivefail.
Let's face it girls, this is a made up holiday to feed our egos. A holiday created by corporate America and I really hate feeding into that commercialism. Isms in my opinion are bad, very bad. Besides that, I really do hate this holiday because of all the un-necessary pressure it puts on people.
How many times have you heard about people getting in fights on Valentine's Day because one or the other of the person wasn't "thoughtful" enough? I know of lots. One of them is typing this post.
How many times do you hear about men stressing and asking about what they should get their girl? They don't want her to think all they want is sex and they don't want her to think they are too serious or not serious enough… stress. That is what this holiday does to a lot of people. It stresses them out.
So, if I have the most amazing man on the planet as my spouse who attends to my every whim, the question begs asking: Why am I such a hater?
I hate Valentine's Day because I don't want him to give me a gift because he has to, I want him to give me a gift because he wants to. I know. I'm totally high maintenance. But, I think I'm low maintenance and that's the worst kind of high maintenance to be.
I would rather have a gift on a Tuesday in April, Or a Thursday in October or a Monday in August. Not on the expected February 14th. It means more to me when he spontaneously gives me gifts—because it means he was thinking about me because he loves me—not because he had to think about me.
And, I know he feels the same. We have had numerous conversations about this very thing. I get teary eyed when he comes home from work with a bouquet of fresh flowers—just because he thought I would like them. I get warm fuzzy's when he calls from work "because I was thinking about you and wondered how your day was going". I get excited when I come home from being gone and he has gone the extra mile to clean the kitchen, bathe the kids and put them to bed. Those are the things that show me Jefe loves me. Not some stupid made up holiday with cheesy-over-the-top hallmark cards.
It's the everyday stuff that does it for me girls. So this year we will have a normal, go about your business kind of a day. No cards. No holiday-hoobadee-what-y. Nothing. But, maybe next Thursday I'll buy him a new CD—just because he was on my mind.
I recently was at an event where I was told "I don't read you anymore, nor do I subscribe to your blog. You quit commenting on mine, so I quit reading yours."
Honestly? I was a little stunned. But, then I realized I had that coming. I haven't been reading anyone's blogs as of late, and I certainly have NOT been commenting. I have, in fact, been having an affair.
I am a big cheating McCheater pants.
I have been cheating on my blog-- on you really-- and you deserve to know why.
It's a little thing I like to refer to as The CBC. It has taken over my life. It demands attention in ways that Moxie has never dreamed, and frankly I'm glad she hasn't dreamed of it. Yet.
When I first became involved with MMB back in August of 2008, I had the hairbrained idea that we should have a conference. A huge get together for all of us "mommy bloggers" who were too afraid to go to the regular blogging conferences.
Ever since I started blogging, I have wanted to attend a blogging conference, but frankly? They scared the ba-jeezus out of me. I'm "just a mommy blogger" who writes about the silly stuff my kids do and the deep, weird thoughts that plague my brain. What in the sam-hill would I have to offer a blogging conference? The latest greatest way to potty train or a killer salsa recipe?
That's when I started telling the Universe I wanted to do a blogging conference.
Jefe kept asking me why? Why do you want to do this conference? And Honestly? I had no reason, other than I wanted to. I wanted to see if I could do it.
(and a little thing about God telling me to, but that's another story for another time.)
CBC has become my new lover-- my new obession. I have been working around the clock on it. And frankly, I'm exhausted. But, I have one little secret to share with you so come here.
No. Come closer.
Closer.
{looks around}
DUDE! It's going to be amazing!
You should go check out the speakers that are coming. Awesome! Our classes and panels are amazing and I just finalized the entertainment... it's going to rock your socks off!
I recently had the opportunity to go hear Matt Townsend speak at the Miller Free Enterprise Center.
Who's that?
Well, let it be known that Matt Townsend is going to be the opening Keynote Speaker at the Casual Blogger Conference on Saturday morning.
Oh. My. Word.
People!
Matt Townsend is freaking hilarious! He had me at hello. Seriously, he did.
I was laughing so hard that at one point there were tears streaming down my face, and I may have snorted. Twice.
Then, in the next breath he had our attention so completely as he taught us HOW to create amazing relationships with people. It mattered not who the relationships were with; the principals that Matt taught can be applied to all relationships.
I can't even begin to explain to you how excited I am that he is available to come and speak at CBC! He held the entire audience in the palm of his hand, and he took us on an incredible journey. I am telling you he is going to knock your socks off! He is going to create an amazing environment of learning for you at the CBC and you will come away from his speech excited to try what you have learned from him! He alone will be well worth the money you will spend to attend CBC!
I can't wait to see and hear what the rest of our presenters have to offer because I know if Matt is as amazing as he is, then the rest of our presenters are going be home runs!
You don't want to miss out on the Casual Blogger Conference, people. You will leave with so much more than just blogging skills—you will leave with relationship skills, and lifelong friendships. Besides, I need someone to be there to help me chant: "Tell the puffy pant story! Tell the puffy pant story!" and believe me when I say to you-- You don't want to miss the puffy pant story.
There are still a few sweet swag tickets available—for the first 100 tickets purchased. Get yours here.
Last week I was hanging out with my Sister and Mom. We had been visiting for quite a while when I decided I wanted to check my email.
Wanted, not needed.
I pulled out my phone and started checking. Now, I was still listening to the conversation at hand, and even participating. I was just multi-tasking, Right?
I suddenly heard: "Motherboard!" I answered "what," while still looking at my email. Again I heard "Motherboard! Look at me." I looked up and my mom and sister were looking at me, and my sister said something profound.
"Put your phone away and be present in our conversation."
Be present in our conversation.
I have thought about that a lot, that being present.
Technology is such that it has enabled us to "multi-task" in ways that we never could before. With the touch of a button you can have directions to the nearest restaurant or check your child's grades. But, in that ability to multi-task comes the risk of not being present with the people you are with. And, in reality it has enabled us.
Have you ever been situations where the people you were with spent more time with the people inside their phone than they did looking you in the eye?
I have. It made me feel unimportant.
So, The Question is: How do you feel about people "Multi-tasking" while you are trying to carry on a conversation with them?
Whether it be them checking their email, twittering, whrrling, or even just playing a game on their phone.
How does it make you feel? What are your thoughts? Do YOU "Multi-task"?
I pretty much live in my car. Or so it seems, and I am constantly running my children hither and yon. At some point during the day, I drive to the McDonalds drive thru.
I pull up into that drive, thick with anticipation as I order my extra large diet coke with extra ice.
I pay my $1.08 and slowly pull forward.
This next part of my ritual is actually the most important part, and it can't be done while driving. So I park. Next to the garbage can.
As I am parked, I take that straw and plunge it into my soda and then I take a drink. A long, slow drink.
While I take that first drink, I close my eyes, enhale and hold my breath . As I'm holding my breath and feel that liquid start to go down my throat, I slowly exhale... and I experience it.
The awe factor.
Everyone has their own version of The Awe Factor. For me it's my diet coke with extra ice.
It doesn't matter when it is during the day and it only works with a fountain drink. Trust me on that one-- I've tried a bottle and a can. It's not the same blissful experience.
That Awe Factor is a cleansing factor. It helps me re-group; re-center myself. And, its not so much the diet coke that is doing that for me, but that deep, cleansing breath I take along with the nectar of the Gods.
Moxie has slept through the night since she was 6 weeks old. I know. Those of you with babies right now want to hold me down and punch me for the amount of hours your baby gets up.
But its the sad, sad truth. Someone had to have a good baby that slept through the night and I'm sure glad it was me.
However, you can just stop your scoffing and scorning right there. Because while Moxie slept through the night from 6 weeks on, she has recently taken to waking up at 1am and then wanting to party.
She wants to party like it's 1999 and everything.
It's crazy weird.
I actually blame him, that insane, overly happy purple dinosaur. He is up to no good! No good at all, I tell you.
I mean really, a 22 month old baby that is dancing in your kitchen at 1am chanting "Cheese! Cheese! Barn-dee" is a little unsettling.
Barney is clearly a bad influence on Moxie and her sweet baby-like ways. She has turned into a crazed groupie ever since she discovered him.
All she thinks about is Barney, Barney, Barney.
Damn that barney!
Moxie tries her hardest to talk my ear off during the partying hours -- with her limited vocabulary. Which then makes me actually become coherent because it's hilarious!
Hearing your 22month old baby say: "Mom, aaaannnnndddd.... Cheese please.... Uhmmmm.... Barn-dee? Ummmmm Daddy go? Ummmmm doggie go? aaaaannnnnnddddd... Cheese and Barn-dee? Ummmmm {incoherent babbling, shaking her booty, and doing some strange dance actions that you can only attribute to that dang purple dinosaur} yah?"
It cracks me up. Every single time she does it.
But then when that party animal insists on partying for 2 hours straight? With the overly happy purple menace to society? Yeah. I don't think its that cute any more.
I mean maybe she can sleep her life away during the day, but me? I actually have responsibilities. I have teenagers I need to wrangle. And laundry to fold (which btw is ALL folded AND put away. thankyouverymuch!).
I wake up in the mornings with a Moxie hangover.
It's not as bad as a real hangover, but pretty darn close. I mean, I could lay in bed and cuddle her all the live long day, but my house would go straight to pot. But my heart would grow three sizes.
I have come to realize that rather than be bitter that my sweet, innocent Moxie has turned into a crazed party animal, I will cherish it.
I will cherish every last second I have with her.
All too soon this little party animal is going to be speaking full, coherent, back-talking sentences and I will long for the day when the thing that made her the happiest was eating cheese, dancing in the kitchen, and watching Barney at one o'clock in the morning.
Now, anybody know a guy that can 'take care' of a big purple dinosaur for me?
Have faith in yourself. Set the sails, pull the anchor and cast away. Feel the wind at your back and keep your eyes on the horizon. Dare to make your dreams your new reality.
Today, find a photo of yourself as a child, put it in a pretty frame, place it on your desk or night stand and remember. That child had dreams, remember? Have you accomplished any? Write them down and choose one to make a reality.
Have you ever been a TV soap addict? Does the following phrase mean anything to you:
I call my inner Crazy Lady Estelle. I found a photo of her on the Internet. I printed it off, framed it and its sitting in my kitchen window. It's a reminder that I'm in control. Usually.
A great musician that I recently found thanks to my pal Joanie over at Keeping Up With Mom is Cameron Rafati. 
Myfriend Jo is crazy sick in the hospital. She is one of the many amazing people that I have had the pleasure of meeting in blog land. She is always happy and she is crazy funny. Not only that she is incredibly smart.
I recently had the opportunity to go hear Matt Townsend speak at the Miller Free Enterprise Center.
I actually blame him, that insane, overly happy purple dinosaur. He is up to no good! No good at all, I tell you.
