Second weddings

You know what my favorite thing is about discussion and debate?  The fact that the more I have to explain myself to someone and research a topic, the more I understand how I really, truly feel about it.  This happened to me this week.  I got into a discussion about big wedding vs small wedding with someone and I learned something.  I’m super excited about my big wedding coming up.  

There was a time when if someone would have asked me if I wanted to get married again, I would have said no way.  And if I ever considered the idea of another wedding, I imagined it would be a small affair;  few people, maybe a destination wedding, simple dress, etc…  I had this theory that was what was appropriate for a second wedding.  The small private affair and maybe a reception later with a few friends and family.  But I’ve done a complete 180 on this one.

At first I thought I was doing the big wedding thing because it was what Tim wanted.  But as I got more and more excited, I decided I didn’t care about what a second wedding is “supposed” to be.  This is the wedding I was supposed to have, with the man I was supposed to marry.  That is what is important.  If I want all my friends and family to be there to celebrate, that isn’t a bad thing.  

Here we are just a few short months away from the date and the dress I have is big.  It has a giant long train and beautiful embellishments and I am not ashamed.  I love my dress and I want to look my absolute best on one of the most important days of my life.  I’m excited about my dress.  I’m beyond excited at the idea of having my best friend standing by my side with our girls next to her.  I can’t wait for the beautiful music, the vows that we are going to share, and the announcement that Tim and I are Mr and Mrs Andring.   

And you bet I’m excited about the reception.  I love the beautiful hall we picked out.  I can’t wait to see all my friends and family and visit, dance, laugh and share stories.  I can’t wait for the food, the desserts, the music, the lights.  We are keeping it simple, but it will be big.  And I refuse to feel bad about that.  

I’ve read a bit about second weddings and nowhere does it say you have to keep it small and private.  That may have been the case years ago.  But today - throw those “rules” out the window and have the wedding you want.  Everyone keeps telling me that planning a wedding is stressful and I know Tim worries about the things I say I’m doing for myself for the wedding.  But maybe I’m doing it wrong?  I’m not stressed out yet at all. People won’t be coming to my house so I don’t even have to clean.  I love to cook and am looking forward to that.  Decorations are going to be kept super simple and I’m not making anything.  I have my binder and my plan and uh?  Not stressed yet?  Does that part come later?  

Whatever happens down the road for the next few months, it isn’t a big deal.  The big deal is that I am literally marrying the man of my dreams.  The man that makes me so incredibly happy that I don’t care if the wedding photographer doesn’t show up (Just kidding Jill - I’ll kill you), the flower girls refuse to walk down the aisle, the maid of honor passes out (she’s threatened), the flowers all die, the food flops, or it rains cats and dogs.  I’ll still be walking down that aisle to Tim.  We will still promise to love and cherish each other for the rest of our days (and I plan on that being a lot of days) and we get to celebrate it all with our favorite people in the whole world.  It doesn’t get any better than that.  And seriously - if any of that other stuff happens, get it on camera.  I love a good story.

Tattoo Redo

So I’m working on ideas for a tattoo to cover up “the teddybear”.  The tattoo that has been a thorn in my side since I got it.  I loved my first tattoo, which is a horse NOT a unicorn like everyone seems to think.  Unicorns have horns people. Mine does not.  But I digress.  I went to get my second with a cute idea.  An adorable little teddy bear holding two pink roses, one for each of my girls.  The bear I got looked a little bit like a Grateful Dead bear, only uglier.  I have not been happy with it since day one.  With the wedding around the corner, and given that the bear is prominently displayed on my shoulder, I want/need to cover it up soon.  

I reached out to a prominent tattoo artist in the area that has come recommended to me by friends.  He got back to me right away and we started talking about possible solutions.  Right away he dismissed trying to “fix” the ugly little sucker.  Too little with too many issues.  So his next suggestion was to try to tailor it to my girls’ personalities now that they were older.  So we started brainstorming.

Libby’s was easy.  She’s an open book.  No literally, that’s what I’m going to do to represent my Libby.  It covers so many bases.  For the obvious - she loves to read (and write).  I love that it is something we share.  We are always recommending books for each other and even if we sometimes disagree, it’s fun to have someone to debate the merits of a book with.  It also represents her personality in so many ways.  She is a very open person, not afraid to tell you how she feels or what she thinks.  She is also creative.  She surprises me constantly with her thoughts and ideas.  And she inspires me, which is something I love about a good book.

Sophie was a little more difficult.  She’s harder to pin down for one thing.  There is a lot that is Sophie.  My gut reaction was that she’s an athlete so the artist recommended putting her favorite sport, like a basketball or volleyball.  That would represent her NOW, but do I really want a volleyball to represent her when she’s 40?  After talking about it with Sophie - we are leaning more towards a trophy cup.  It would signify the fact that she’s an athlete.  But it would also represent her competitiveness and drive that  makes her such an achiever in so many aspects.  The other suggestion that I got from my best friend, who has known Sassy Sophie since birth, was a butterfly to represent how social she is and how important being a friend is to Sophie (social butterfly). That’s darn good too and is definitely still on the table.  I thought about a symbol to represent how independent and stubborn she is, but don’t really want a donkey on my shoulder for eternity.  (Sorry, not sorry Sophie)

So I have it narrowed down, I have the artist in mind and now… time to work up my nerve and make that appointment.  It’s way past due.   

Our Peanut

We have been blessed to have had some truly wonderful 4 legged companions over the years.  I've loved watching my girls grow up with loving dogs by their sides.  One dog that has been with them for quite some time is Peanut.  

We didn't get Peanut as a puppy.  Peanut came to us well trained and much loved from some horse show friends of ours.  We gladly opened up our house to Peanut and she taught Libby a ton about showing dogs.  Peanut was her trained obedience dog that won her Grand Champion at the fair.  She also got Reserve Champion with her in agility.  Now, if you have never seen an 8 lb chihuahua doing agility, you haven't lived.  I have never laughed so hard as I did at little Peanut "racing" around the course.  My favorite memory is when Peanut dashed into the tunnel and decided she had had enough running for one day so she laid down and it took a lot of coaxing for Libby to get her back out and back on course.  Oh how I wish I would have had it on video.  But she could do a sit/stay like nobody's business and she looked pretty cute jumping the bar laid on the ground (since she's so short - her jumps were shorter too).  

When I divorced and we moved to town we tried finding a new home for Peanut for about 2 seconds.  It was quickly decided that Peanut would have to come with us.  We tried keeping Gunner happy in town too, but eventually we did the right thing and found him a family back in the country.  Peanut has been and still is very much a part of our family.

There is something so incredible about this dog.  For the most part, she could give a rip less about other dogs.  But she tolerates everyone.  Pixie will try to show she's the boss and Peanut just walks by and ignores her.  She is almost haughty with her disdain.
She is loving, but also content to sleep the day away in her bed.  She still loves to go on "walk abouts" if you don't keep your eye on her and make sure she stays home.  Usually scouting for food someone may or may not have left unattended on a patio or under a grill.  Being as she is mostly deaf now, calling for her really isn't effective.  Although, she was always pretty good at the selective hearing thing anyway.

She will sleep anywhere and still has her trusted bed with the heated pad and quilt to curl up in.  Most days she is found in her dog bed by the heat vent.  I miss the days where we could find her just about anywhere clothes or blankets were piled.

As you can see, Peanut is a lot less round then she used to be.  She turns 14 this year.  She is mostly blind, virtually deaf and still quick as heck when she doesn't want to have to go outside.  I can't catch her - that's for sure.  She has only a few teeth left and gets spoiled with a diet of soft food and rice to keep her stomach settled.  She also gets her fair share of dropped bits while cooking or eating dinner.  Her sense of smell hasn't disappeared and she is always underfoot once cooking starts.   She still dances for treats and can sit, but laying down is difficult as she doesn't see (or hear) the commands.   I worry that every day may or may not be her last.  And sometimes she sleeps so sound that I'm sure I will have to break the bad news to the girls.  But we are thankful for every day that Peanut has been a part of our lives and will continue to appreciate each day she is still with us.

"The dress"

I found my dress!!! When I started this process last August (I was shocked when I realized that it had been that long ago that I first tried on dresses), I had strong reservations about ever finding “the one”.  Everyone kept talking about how you just know.  That you try it on and it is this great aha moment.  I didn’t have that the first time.  I barely tried on any and of course right after I bought mine I tried on another on a whim and loved it so much more.  But being as I had bought mine - I was stuck.  And it was pretty enough.  And blah blah blah.  I didn’t know if I believed in just knowing. And with my budget, it wasn't a matter of finding the "right" dress, it was a matter of finding the "right, cheap" dress.  

I’m also highly indecisive and susceptible to others’ opinions.  So I was pretty worried I would not know which dress was “the one”, I would never make “a decision” and I would let others pick “the dress”.  But I was determined to at least have a dress on at the wedding.  Preferably wedding type.  And I knew one thing and one thing only, no strapless.  So off my maid of honor (and various sidekicks) went to try on dresses.

We started with the old stand by - David’s Bridal.  I had researched tons of dresses online so I knew what kinds of dresses that I thought were pretty.  I just didn’t know what would be pretty on.  Let me just say what is weird about trying on dresses.  First of all - they lend you a strapless bra and slip and that’s how the salesperson sees you.  At David’s Bridal they put the dresses on  you.  So much for privacy.  And that was awkward at first, but eh - whatever - I’m 40 and have had two kids.  I don’t have much for conventional awkwardness anymore.  Let’s try on some dresses.  

The first time we were there I tried on 3- 4 dresses.  A budget tends to make things difficult.  That combined with “no strapless” and the options were limited at David’s Bridal.  I had a few I liked, but wasn’t in a hurry or pressured to decide so put the dress trying on thing on the back burner.  

Then we moved up the wedding by 6 - 7 months and the pressure was on.  Back to David’s Bridal we went.  I was NOT impressed with the second experience.  First we got shuffled around even though we had an appointment.  We were made to feel like they didn’t have room for us because they were soooo busy (at 8:00 on a Wednesday).  The consultant reluctantly brought me one dress that I had tried on and liked months before.  Then Amy brought me a dress I found on the clearance side of the story and the consultant went and found one more dress.  One.  I liked the first dress again.  I loved the second dress from clearance and I hated the dress the consultant found.  When she brought me the next dress it was,  you guessed it ….. strapless.  The one thing I told her I would NOT try on.  When I told her no thanks she told me there were no other dresses in the store in my price range.  Umm… under $1000?  Okay.  Thanks but no thanks.  Needless to say, I didn’t have “the dress” yet.   

A few days later I had an appointment at White Rose Bridal in St Charles.  It’s a remodeled church and we walked in and I LOVED the place.  Everyone was super nice and welcoming.   I had also checked out their website and just walking in the door I was excited.  They have their dresses organized by size which makes shopping a lot easier.  So we started looking.  Worrying that my budget was ridiculous we didn’t pay attention to price tags and instead just started grabbing dresses.  Then I started trying on.  I loved the first one I tried on, but didn’t love the $1500 price tag.  

I loved the second dress I tried on, but still was in a little sticker shock at just over $1000.

I then tried on a series of dresses that fell in the “nope” category.  And then another couple, “eh - maybe”.

At this point I was getting a little nervous when I remembered that I had three dresses from their website I wanted to try on.  All from the clearance section.  

Apparently the clearance dresses are kept in an overcrowded basement room and my consultant was gone for quite some time.  But I came back from trying on a dress and she had two out of the three found and for me to try on.  I looked at the first one in the bag and knew it was my dress.  It had happened!  That feeling everyone said I would have!  And I didn’t even have it on yet.  

Once I tried it on, I was smitten.  It fit me perfectly.  Needs only a few minor alterations (why are all dresses made for 6 ft tall women) and it is MY dress.  The dress I have always wanted.   I love absolutely everything about it.  Amy and Libby overheard me saying that it was only $350 on clearance.  My consultant told me to look again.  $179!  I spent less on my dress than some of the veils and belts for the other dresses.  I loved my dress no matter what it would have cost, but I can’t lie.  I love it a little more since I got such a great deal.  I did the right thing and tried on the second dress but literally had it on one minute before I took it off and put my dress back on.  I didn’t need to shop anywhere else or look at any other dresses.  I had found the one, “the dress”.  

Since we don’t want Tim peeking until the big day, I can’t share a picture of “the dress”.  But I’ve shared some of the “maybe dress” and “could have been the dress” pictures instead!  

Failed attempts

Today’s writing prompt in my classroom was to write about a time they have failed at something but didn’t give up.  We are working on cultivating our growth mindsets and focusing on looking at our failures as opportunities to grow.  I shared the following meme with them to get them inspired and then shared a personal experience of my own failure to inspire them to get started.

Now you’re thinking, how did they have any class time to write after listening to all the times Melissa has screwed up in the past 40 years?  I tried to keep it simple and a super concrete example.  I focused on one of the things that still bothers me to this day and that I am still working at achieving.  Something that makes me feel like a failure, not only as a mother, but as a woman and even more so, a Kiehne.  Cinnamon rolls.

I adore cinnamon rolls.  Love the things.  Maybe it is a good thing I don’t know how to make them or I would be making them a lot more often and gaining a lot more weight.  But I feel like I owe it to my grandmother’s legacy to learn to make the damn things and well, the stupid Pillsbury ones in a can don’t even come close.  

My grandmother didn’t even need a recipe.  She went every morning to work at the Harmony House and made the rolls (and pie).  She didn’t have any trouble making them.  Hers didn’t flop or refuse to rise.  She didn’t have to read the recipe 15 times only to miss a step or do something out of order and there sit your little lumps of dead dough.  It’s so incredibly sad to me.  

I’ve tried multiple recipes and I still struggle with getting them to rise.  I took to trying other things for a while, tried making cinnamon roll pancakes.  Fail.  Cinnamon roll waffles.  Fail.  So I’m back to the real deal.  I can make pie, bars, cheesecakes, cupcakes, rolls, hot dish, you name it.  But put bread dough in front of me and I love up.  However, I will, I promise you, I will teach myself to make ooey, gooey, big, fluffy cinnamon rolls.  Until then, my family better learn to love the rejects.  Because I have a feeling there will be more.  

Heart Horses

Heart horse.  Horse people talk about finding your “heart horse”.  It’s a hard concept to explain, especially to non horse people.  Maybe other animal lovers can relate?  Especially animal lovers of working animals?  The other part that makes it difficult to explain is that it is such a personal concept - individualized to each person and how they view horses in general and their own horses.  

There are so many different ways that horses can touch your life.  They can be your companion on a fun trail ride.  They can be warriors that go to battle with you in the show ring.  They can be a thrill ride of pure exhilaration.  They can challenge you to work harder than you ever imagined.  Or be the most relaxing part of your day.  But not every horse can be your heart horse.

I think some people go their whole lives enjoying horses, owning horses and riding horses and never feel that “heart horse” connection.  It isn’t easy to find.  Horses have their own very distinct personalities and for sure humans do too.  Finding two personalities that match up and are compatible is the first step and that doesn’t even ensure that type of connection.  Sometimes as much as our personalities match, our horse isn’t fit for the purpose that we enjoy and that leaves us disappointed.  But when you have that connection and you do love to do the same things together, lots of factors start to click and you realize that you have that one horse.  That horse that makes you light up when you talk about her.  That becomes your favorite picture, your favorite memory, the reason you can’t wait to get to the barn.  

I’ve done a lot of serious thinking looking back at the horses that we have owned over the years.  I’ve had a lot of horses that I really really loved, miss and would love to see or own again if I had all the pasture, barn space (and money) at my disposal.  Giggles, Rye, Taz, Levi, Maverick, Quincy, Gretchen, Ellie, Romeo, Taron, Oscar, Susie, Licorice, Rev, Zippy and Cutie.  Just to name a few.  But that heart horse connection is hard to come by.  I can really only think of one horse that I’ve had that connection with.  

Chic (My Honey's Dreamgirl) was a black(ish) shiny two year old that I picked out of a small herd of horses at my friends.  She started her for me and Chic and I had many shows, many classes, many trail rides and many memories together.  She was the mare that gave me Sophie’s “whoa, mean it” story.  She gave me my only Champ Show experiences.  She gave me my first experience riding a flying lead change and never disappointed me.  She wasn’t perfect.  She had a head only a mother could love.  She never even reached 15 hands.  She could have the laziest lope and she was the easiest keeper, aka obese almost all the time.  I loved that little mare to the moon and back, but when family circumstances demanded, I had to sell her.  It was one of the hardest days of my life, but I am so happy for her and her new owner.  The young lady that has her was just a little bugger at the time she bought her and it has been very rewarding experience getting to watch her grow up on Chic.  They are a great team and I am so proud of all that they have done.  I’m not sorry I sold her, it was the right decision at the time.  But she was my last “heart” horse.  

There have been times when I have thought a horse might be my new heart horse.  Like I said, we have been blessed to have a string of really nice horses over the years.  But none that seemed to get me as much as I “got” them.  I think, and I’m just beginning to see this happening, I think I have a new heart horse.  And I also realized that, as much as I love geldings, my heart horses - the horses I have that special connection with - will always be mares.

Recently I had a friend inquire about purchasing China.  I was all set to sell her.  I was looking at possible replacements even.  I thought that shopping for a new horse would maybe make it easier.  And I had the perfect one all picked out.  An adorable, well bred paint filly with a sweet sweet disposition.  But I couldn’t do it.  Every time I thought about selling her I got all choked up.  Every time I rode her she gave me 110%, even when I threw completely new things at her like bareback, ponying colts, bosal, etc… she never flinches and gives it her all.  I have done all the work with China from the ground up.  And she was one I didn’t even want.

I’m not sure how many people remember her story from a few blogs ago.  Libby found this chunky weanling for sale on a barely used horse for sale page.  It was kind of a fluke that she even found her and we fell in love with her simply because she was kind of sort of bred like our favorite mare at the time, Ellie.  I asked for a video and got a video of this spirited looking filly dashing around her frozen, muddy pen.  But it didn’t deter us.  We had to have her.  So we put a deposit down on her.  And then the world went to crap.  I realized I was going to have to ask Ryan to leave.  I was going to have less money coming in, more bills to cover on my own and no pick up truck to even haul our new filly home.  I sent an email asking the owner to consider refunding our deposit and with great embarrassment asked to get out of the deal.  Today I am so thankful he never got that email for whatever reason.  Through the help of Libby for the rest of the purchase price and my dad for loan of a vehicle, we were able to bring China home.  I had no idea what we do with her when I needed to be downsizing, but she was ours.  I considered China to be a giant mistake and I think she’s tried to prove me wrong ever since.

She learned lunging and leading in one practice session.  She went to one show where she tried her best to figure out what the heck we were doing and then was turned out for a couple months.  When I worked with her again, it was like I never left off and she progressed to saddling and ground driving in no time.  This fall she was started under saddle and truly was the type that never thinks of bucking.  Virtually no spook.  No nonsense.  Just “what do you want me to do, let’s do it”.  She is so smart that she learns something new every single time I work with her and makes progress every single time I spend a minute with her.  I always joke that we can use this power for good or evil so we had better be sure we are teaching the right things every time.  

Needless to say, China is off the market.  I’m too excited about the upcoming show season.  Too thrilled with her progress.  Too hooked on this filly to pass her on down the line just yet.  I’m breaking all my horse owning rules and going to trust it doesn’t come back to bite me in the butt.  I am not barn blind.  I realize she isn’t going to take the western pleasure classes by storm.  I realize she has her faults and downfalls and isn’t a world class show champion.  I don’t care if we never win a class, never place in a class, never hear our name announced.  I still love riding her and can’t wait to see what she thinks of the show ring.  In case you haven’t been able to tell, I’m pretty sure this lanky filly just might be my new heart horse.  Especially when we end every ride like this.  

Not funny

What makes something funny?  What makes a joke a joke?  This is one of those things that I struggle to teach students.  Often when someone’s feelings get hurt, the student who caused the hurt will tell me, “I was just kidding.”  And we’ve all teased those that we love and our friends.  But when does it become not funny?  When is it not a joke?  How do you teach young people where to draw that line?  I know many adults who can’t find that line.  Even if it is drawn in black and white.  

Maybe we need to advocate for ourselves?  We need to let people know what is and isn’t funny to us?  That is also something that is really hard to do.  No one wants to be a “wimp” or look like they can’t “take a joke”.  But sometimes, somethings, just aren’t funny.

There are a lot of things I don’t find funny.  Racist jokes.  Not funny.  Jokes about where women belong.  Not funny.  Jokes about dumb blondes.  Not funny.  Jokes about political candidates who have worked their whole lives for the American people.  Not funny.  And my latest group of “not funny” jokes revolve around getting/or being married.  Why would something like this be funny?  

Really?  You need to be saved from getting married?  I’m pretty sure that no one is forcing anyone into marriage in this day and age.  It’s not an arranged marriage is it?  Then don’t walk down the aisle.  Because as a bride to be - I find this highly offensive.  I would not want any man to feel like they are being forced to marry me.  I would not anyone sitting in the crowd to think that my fiance thinks anything less than that they are the luckiest man in the room to be my husband, not someone who needs to be rescued.  

Now those of you that know Tim well, know that he is a bit of an instigator. Yes honey, you are and you know it.   He likes to pull pranks and I’ve been told stories of his antics at his siblings’ weddings.  I’ve warned Tim that if anyone in his group of friends or family thinks this would be funny (or similar such jokes) I can promise to help him.  Be single.  A wedding is not to be made a joke of.  It doesn’t have to be all seriousness either.  But there is a line.  A pretty dark, thick, clear to see line that shouldn’t be crossed.

Here’s another one that used to be one of my ex-husband’s favorite jokes.  Probably should have been a sign, long before my common sense kicked in.

Again. Not funny.  If that is how you feel about marriage in general, or worse - your marriage, get the hell out or get help.  Everyone deserves to be married to their best friend.  Everyone deserves to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t feel like they are “suffering” but feels like they are blessed, loved and appreciated.  As the saying goes - there are more fish in the sea.  And even if the sea has run dry and you’re alone - being alone is better than “suffering”.  Wow.  Not funny.

Here’s a real laugh.  Maybe I am interpreting this one wrong.  I’ve tried looking at it from different perspectives.  Maybe I just don’t get it?  Maybe I “can’t take a joke”?  But this one rubs me the wrong way as well.  If you’re looking at marriage as being a prison sentence, I’ve got to think you’ve got the wrong attitude.  I cannot wait to be Mrs. Andring.  I can’t wait to be lucky enough to get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend.  It’s not a prison sentence, it’s a gift.  One that I am very thankful for. Not funny.

Lastly is one that we actually have hanging up in our restaurant.  People love this one.  I see people taking a pic of it to share with their friends all the time and laughing, laughing, laughing. Believe me, in some ways I get it.  And I understand that some marriages are like this.  But it makes me sad, it doesn’t make me laugh.  It makes me feel for the people who have lost the love in their relationship.  How does it start out all happy, excitement and hope for a long and happy future and then progress to this?  Who finds it funny that people really feel that their marriage has progressed to this point, that they want out - no, NEED out. I’ve been there.  It isn’t a great feeling.  And definitely not funny.  (And not gonna lie - the grammar error makes me shudder.  *are, all you need are two hearts and a diamond.)

I guess I can’t take a joke.  Or maybe I’m just “sensitive”.  But my life experiences have led me to have a little bit different take on what I find funny and what is making fun of the hurt others find very real.  I guess I’m just not okay with that anymore.  

Nothing Good

My best friend and I were talking about this the other day.  Now we share a brain and are more like sisters than most blood relations, but I don’t think we are the only ones.  Do you ever have those “poor me” days?  The days when you just get overwhelmed and it takes the least littlest thing and it either puts you into the “yell at everyone and sort it out later” or “I’m just going to cry about the fact that my children once again left crap out for me to put away” mood.  Do I think this means women are emotional and reactive.  Possibly we are.  Do I think that’s a bad thing?  Absolutely not.  

I think that women hold up their households for so long that eventually we just get tired.  I think we pretend that things are okay and that we don’t mind being the one who has to pick up all the things and put them where they go.  We pretend that it’s okay that we are the only ones that notice the half used toothpaste coating the bathroom sink.  We pretend that it’s not a big deal that our kids never buy any food, never make a meal, never clean up a meal, but feel entitled to have an opinion about the meal put in front of them or complain the noodles are soggy.  We pretend that it doesn’t hurt.  We pretend that it doesn’t make us feel unappreciated and disrespected.  We remind ourselves that we love them no matter what and we strap on our shields and keep on plugging away.

Until the day when we didn’t sleep so well the night before.  Or we had a nightmare.  Or a cold.  Or we got bad news.  And we are emotional, but that’s because we care.  We care about how our kids feel, our significant others feel, our neighbors feel.  Your worries become our worries.  Your heartaches hurt our hearts.  So when we have just had enough, when holding in our emotions and your emotions and his emotions and her emotions just becomes too much, sometimes we have a bad day.  A poor me day.  When it just all seems like a lot too much.  

I had one of those days this week.  It just all got to be a lot.  It started over a plate.  A plate of brownies that someone had finished the brownies on and left out for me to clean up and put away.  It just overwhelmed me.  One more thing.  And suddenly all I could think about was anything and everything that’s been stressing me out the past few weeks.  “I miss my mom, when will my kids start picking up after themselves, I’m failing as a parent, I’m the evil stepmother, when will we get paid for this or that, my fiance works so much and I miss him, it’s tax time already…” You know, every real and some manufactured problems washing over me like a tidal wave.  

Bless those of you who get caught in the riptide.  I tried to get ready and get out the door before Tim got home and the children were up because I didn’t want to worry him.  Instead he got to see me in all my emotional and self loathing glory.  I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough because, no matter how much someone else tries, you can’t fix it.  It’s mine to fix.  I just need the space, the emotional distance, to fix it myself.  

How do you fix it?  I think for everyone, that is highly personal.  I have my methods.  Of course one is to commiserate with my best friend.  That always helps.  There is a little bit of kicking myself and self talk about how I am a warrior and warriors don’t get upset and feel sorry for themselves.  There is a little bit of looking up jokes and funny memes.  But the biggest part of it all is reframing my negatives into positives.  Looking at what’s wrong and finding the blessing in it.  

*If I am failing at a parent in some way, I can use this as an opportunity to change my behavior, learn new ways to teach and deal with the problem and implement them.  I can grow as a person and as a parent.

*If I’m frustrated about the kids complaining about dinner, maybe it is time to start having the kids plan the meal, shop for the meal, make the meal and clean up after said meal.  This is probably overdue!  And how fun could it be for all of us.  

*If I miss my mom, how lucky am I to have had a mom that was such an amazing person and loved me so much that it is so hard to miss her and not have her to turn to. And I’m lucky enough to have an amazing stepmom who always listens.

*If I miss my fiance and he works a lot, how lucky am I that he is hard working and provides for his family instead of lazing about on the couch all day while I work two jobs. And how lucky am I to have a man that I’m so crazy about and is so good to me that I do miss him.  

*If my kids are driving me crazy, I’m lucky to have 4 amazing kids who are smart, healthy and kind to drive me crazy.

You get the idea.  It’s a count your blessings kind of day.  My old therapist Frank listened to me whine one day.  I was discussing how I had a hard time getting excited about things off in the future. I didn’t feel like good things ever happened to me.  His response was to dig in his desk drawer and toss me a quarter.  I caught it and he told me to keep it.  I looked kind of befuddled, I’m sure, so he explained, “See, good things happen to you.  You just got a quarter.  It’s little.  But it’s something.”  Let that sink for a minute.  I know the enormity of what he was proving to me took longer than it should have to sink in.   

So with that, hugs to all my warrior women who fight the good fight day after day.  And even on the days that you don’t, the days you let down your shields and have a good cry, never forget you are stronger than you think and good things do happen to you.