Confession Time

I was just going to add a little blurb to my post tonight, confessing that I'm failing miserably at my "alternate day" writing, but then I figured I may as well do an entire confession post. Why not?

As I've already said, I failed at writing every day. There is just too much going on. Too many days when I feel beaten down by things at work or overwhelmed by things at home or I'm just too busy. I'm trying to be okay with it since I'm still posting on here with realitive consistancy, but I am a bit dissapointed in myself.

I cherish alone time. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband and my kids and the rest of my family and my friends. I appreciate the time I get to spend with the people I care about. But I also have to admit that I am kinda a loner. I like my commute when I can listen to NPR without interruption and the the nights when Ryan is at work and the boys are in bed and I am alone with my thoughts and can kinda do what I want (you know, like write run-on sentences or eat too much Boursin cheese). It may be weird, but it's me.

I am not nearly as conservative as many people assume I am. I grew up in a conservative family and I was homeschooled(!) and went to a midwestern Christian college where dancing and drinking were not allowed. I can understand (mostly) why people are staunchly conservative, and I think that if we lived in an ideal world where everyone had equal opportunity and upbringing and access, then MAYBE the conservative views would be accpetable in a lot of circumstances. But, in case you haven't looked around or watched the news or visited anywhere outside your upper-middle class subdivision... we don't live in an ideal world. So I think that issues and problems in this country and in this world need to be looked at individually and evaluated for the best way to make things work to the benefit of the people who really need it. And if that means giving someone free access to birth control or helping them buy groceries to feed their family, I'm okay with it.

I am addicted to Food Network. I think I may have mentioned something like this before, but I really think it might be an issue. If I have control of the TV and it is on, it is probably on Food Network. This is an issue for me since I am really not that good of a cook and watching it makes me hungry and then I eat food that isn't good for me. But whatever. It does sometimes inspire me to make things I'd never thought of trying before. I've actually made popovers. And my kids ate them. For the most part.

I am not a baby person. I know I have mentioned this before too, but it is true. I'm happy for other people if they have babies, but I'm totally fine with not having any more babies. This is why it doesn't make me sad that my kids are way past the baby stage. I can deal with kids, but babies are a real challenge for me. My kids can tell me what's up and help me with stuff. Babies cry and scream and screech and rob you of sleep. Do you see where I'm coming from?

I hate being cold. Not sure if it qualifies as a confession since I've never kept it a secret, but to me being cold equals physical pain. I reall hate it and I wish it could be warm all year. Why can't it?

This isn't a very good confession post, but it's Friday, at the end of a long week, and I'm tired. Yay.

Baby Face

When your kids are babies, you spend a lot of time looking at their faces. You hold them a lot and check on them a lot and even though you know they are changing as they grow, you still see their baby faces in real life and in your mind's eye. As they get older and reach the baby (and then toddler) milestones, their faces thin up and grow up, but they still look like babies to you.

But now my boys are four and almost-six. For years, even if during the day they had seemed quite grown-up for their age, I could still sneak into their rooms at night and see them as babies. Something about their little sleeping faces still looked so innocent and baby-esque.

Over the past month or so, however, I've noticed a change. There are times when Luke, my oldest, will make a face or look at me in a certain way and instead of seeing "baby" I see "teenager." It's like for just a second something in the real progression of time shifts and I see what he will look like when he is sixteen and thinks he doesn't need me at all. It's so surreal, yet strangely comforting.

I've also noticed that when I sneak into their room after they are sleeping and check to make sure they are covered up and sleeping well, it is getting more and more difficult to see the "baby" in their faces. They no longer look the same as they looked at six months, only bigger. They look like almost grown-ups, resting from a day of their own thoughts and feelings that have little to do with me. They look so big.

I've read the books and magazines and I know this should make me sad, but it doesn't. I love seeing them grow up and become more independent. Sure, maybe in ten years when they actually want nothing to do with me, I may be sad then. But for now, I am so enjoying experiencing their flourishing personalitities and all the things they are learning and watching them become best friends with each other to the point that they don't need my attention all the time. At some point I may miss their baby faces, but for now I'm just enjoying the moment.

Some Things I Like

It's been a while since I posted a favorite things list. And on a night like tonight when I realize I haven't been able to beat my writer's block and I have ten loads of laundry to fold before I can go to sleep, it seems like a good idea to post another one. Maybe "good idea" is generous. More like, I seems like what I am going to do, good, bad, or indifferent.

Boursin Cheese - I could maybe eat an entire pack of Boursin Cheese all by myself in one sitting. Not maybe. I know I could. It is delicious. I used to eat it on crackers, but I was trying low-carb for a while and started eating it on salami. To. Die. For. No joke, if my last meal included Boursin Cheese, I would die happy.

The Television Show Parenthood -Such a good show. I end up laughing out loud a lot, but also crying at least once per episode. The writing is great and the cast is amazing. Plus, I think I might have a girl-crush on Lauren Graham. She is perfect in such a relatable, imperfect way.

Shoemall.com - All the shoes I've bought in the past four months that I love and want to wear all the time have been purchased from Shoemall.com. I know there are other sites out there, but The selection on Shoemall is great and I like the ease of sorting/finding on the site, as well as the discounts they offer.

Small-Venue Concerts - I haven't been to an excessive number of concerts, but I've been to a few. I by far prefer the ones that have been in small theaters to the ones in massive stadiums. Last night I saw Sara Bareilles at a small, local theatre. Amazing.

Summertime - I know I've posted this one before, but this spring is dragging on and on in a cold, wet, depressing grossness. I am just ready for the weather to be hot and sunny. I love summer and I miss it so much.

The end. For now.

It Was Just a Bad Day

Note: I posted this on Friday, but woke up Saturday morning wondering if it really came across the way I meant it. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to look over it till today. I'm just going to go ahead and re-post it. I don't intend for it to sound whiny or all woe-is-me, but if it does, I'm sorry.


Today was the bad end of a bad week. And I mentioned that on Facebook. And, of course, that seemed to some to be an invitation to some to tell me that my life is actually so great and I have no right to say things are bad. Am I the only one who doesn't get that? This compulsion to tell others that they shouldn't feel the way they feel? It doesn't only bother me when someone does it to me, but also when I see it done to others.

I am keenly aware that my life circumstance is better than that of a good percentage of the people currently living on the earth. I read a lot. I know about how bad things are for a lot of people. I hate that so many people have such a terrible time of it. I really do. And if I spend too much time thinking about that, I start to get very melancholy and depressed. If I knew what I could do to make life better for people in horrible situations, I would do it.

So, sure. I realize that when I say I've had a bad day that there are many others out there who are having worse lives than my one bad day. I never said otherwise. But I don't really understand why other people being in bad circumstances means that I can't just say that I'm looking forward to tomorrow since today was crap.

Why is it so difficult to just wish someone well? To hope for them that things improve? To just let them have a down moment, while hoping for better? What happened to empathy?

In ITIL Hell

I'm skipping coming up with a post topic tonight. I'm in the middle of an ITIL (Information Technology Infrastructure Library, for those of you lucky enough to not know what ITIL stands for) training class at work. I have to study tonight for the exam tomorrow. I mean, it's nice that my company is paying for me to get yet another certification to add to my resume, but I kind of feel like I'm being held hostage in my office building.

At least they provide lunch.

Here We Go Again

WAY back when Luke started preschool, I posted several posts about how I am a misfit among mothers. This one is the one I remember the most, but I know there are others. I know I am not the only mother who works full-time aside from my mommy duties, but somehow I often end up feeling that I am.

Now Luke is in Kindergarten and has started playing t-ball. The first time I took him to practice, I ended up setting on a bench with another mom and another dad (no relationship to each other). I tried making conversation with the mom, asking her about her son, etc., but all she did was answer my questions. No actual conversation or asking questions about my kid. Um, okay.

The dad, on the other hand, was fine talking to me about our kids and about t-ball and about the teams his older kids had played on their first years. At least I didn't have to sit only with stoic-mom the entire time.

This past week, I again had better luck talking with the dads at first. After a while I realized I was the only mom standing on one side of the field, while all the other moms had somehow migrated to the benches on the other side of the field. Nothing makes you feel more like you're back in jr. high, than seeing a group of females who all seem to be hitting it off swimmingly, while you are the outcast girl who doesn't pinch-roll (peg? pinch-cuff? Whatever that stupid fad was called) her jeans.

I know I'm writing about it so it seems like it gets to me, but what I really worry about is how it will affect Luke and Owen in the future. I don't want them to be those kids who other kids don't like because none of the other moms like their mom. Is that a thing? Would that happen?

Thankfully I did manage to find a mom who I got along with as our kids were playing on the playground after practice. She is a vetrinarian and didn't really seem to fit right in with the other moms either, but did seem like a lovely and genuine person. Maybe there is hope. I don't need to be BFFs with all the other moms. But having one or two allies as I navigate this new mom-to-a-school-kid phase would be a very good thing.

My Name is Trischa....

...And I have a shoe addiction. I believe this stems from not knowing how to create outfits or accessorize. I try to make up for it by having great shoes. That's okay, right? I do try to be frugal about my shoes. I'm not going to go out and buy really cheap ones that are going to fall apart in three days, but I also can't justify paying full price. I try to watch for sales and use coupon codes and can typically get great shoes for less than $40.

I recently ordered a pair of nude pumps. This pair, if you're curious. I have lots of black shoes and several black boots, but I have been working to add variety. Before these, I bought a great pair of army green heels. These nude heels arrived on a day when I was working from home and I tried them on right away. They are so cute.

But then my husband came home and I showed them to him. He acutally (usually) has great taste in clothes. He isn't one of those guys who obsesses about his looks, but he also looks good when he leaves the house. He took one look at these shoes and said, "They look like high-heel wooden shoes from Holland."

Talk about a blow to my enthusiasm. Of course, I wanted to say they look nothing like that, but... I couldn't. All I could do was laugh. They don't really look like that, but I could kind of see what he meant! And now every time I wear them, all I can think of is "wooden shoes."

So, if I can just get into my closet this weekend to sort, organize, discard, and evaluate.... I'm hoping that I can find some items that go perfectly with wooden high heels.