refreshinglyconfident

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alliteration for beginners

The wind is whipping the Weeping Willow, Mama. 

Ziggy, do you think it’s whispering something? 

Yay.

Like whoosh whoosh. 

Yay. 

Ziggy, how about, The Wind is whispering whoosh whoosh to the Weeping Willow. 

Yay. 

Can you say that with me, Ziggy. 

Yay. 

Ziggy, that’s called alliteration. 

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a little self-love

I’ve gotten to a point in my life that I can’t possibly waste anymore time thinking about that goddamn scale and how my worth is based upon some three digit number. I no longer have the energy to let the guilt of enjoying myself with drinks, food, and company consume me. Now, I allow myself the joy without the impending shame. 

There is no such thing as productive self-deprecation. 

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ice cream

You've had vanilla ice cream for years. It's delicious and predictable. However, you started noticing pistachio. I'm not talking about some green dyed artificial store-brand cheap hormone laced junk. I'm talking about the pure, locally-sourced organic good shit. The one with nuts and some swirling of green. Grade A, $7 a pint kind. Delectable. Orgasmic. 

You've glanced at it at a couple times and thought, that might be appetizing, but no, you know that is not for you. You'll stick to what you know, what's comfortable. Plus, you may not even like pistachio. What if it's gross? What if it doesn't taste like how you fantasize it to be? 

But, you start to notice pistachio more. Every time you walk by the freezer section or glance into an ice cream shop, it's there, slapping you in the face with its fancy labeling. Sometimes right next to vanilla. Sometimes it seems to be calling out to you.  Hey, look, I'm right here. Try me. I'm heavenly. Maybe even better than vanilla. Vanilla is so boring, mundane. Aren't you tired of the same thing day after day? You know those black specs in there aren't even real. I have nuts. 

While your face is smooched up against the glass almost drooling over this new, potential enticing option, the voices in your head start to battle. Don't do it. What if it's terrible and you wasted your time considering it. You know how familiar and soothing vanilla is, why would you even consider anything else. You don't want to hurt vanilla and you know vanilla would be devastated if you tried another flavor. It's not worth it, trust me. Versus...Try it, doesn't that look delicious? You've been enjoying the same flavor for years, why not indulge yourself with something new and exotic? Don't you deserve to be happier?! You may like it more than vanilla, you may fall in love with it. 

And, that is exactly what you're worried about. 

You know exactly what you're getting with vanilla. Your taste buds can sense the familiarity on your tongue. You return to vanilla because it's reliable, recognizable, routine. Right now if feels best to exercise with caution. 

That’s it! It's settled. Vanilla for life. You ebb away the negative vibes, the bad juju, the fear of karma. You follow your morale code. You contain yourself. 

Sorry pistachio, now is not a good time for change. 

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Vulnerability

With rigidity accompanies this terrible fear of vulnerability as though it's a dirty, contaminated word that only plagues the weak.

"This is a hard time for everyone," seems to be mantra engrained in my mind on a daily basis. Used to defuse one meltdown after the next.

But has there been a better time to stop and reflect on what's really important. Where are our values? Keeping up with our own vanity. Hoarding unnecessary items to protect ourselves from our worst fears or reminders of painful pasts? Waiting around to be gaslighted by marketing experts telling you everything you need to buy in order to feel normal again?

I'm grateful I will not be financially gutted from this. I'm grateful I have my health. I'm grateful for for my free spirited son who has no clue what's going on outside, "There are too many germs, mama?" I'm grateful I get to spend more quality time with him because that is time I will never get back. I'm grateful for the daily opportunity to run, sometimes even with a friend who I am remarkably appreciative of.  I'm grateful to have a career where I'm deemed essential. I'm grateful I can continue to provide mental health treatment to people. People. We all need each other more than ever.

Stop. Take a breath. Remind yourself it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to feel scared, anxious, worried, something... this makes us human. It's okay to not know the answer. And if there isn't a better time to get comfortable with uncertainty, now is that time.

We're going to make it through this. There is no other way.

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Things my toddler put in the refrigerator this week

Crayons

Toothbrushes

Remotes

Mustard Seeds

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I ran 5:18 mile this weekend.

My legs are on 🔥

New PR!

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Good timing

My husband broke his ankle. He is now home following "a more complicated than expected" surgery. It's fucking torture. I can't even share a bed with him. Sounds of wincing, fingering pain meds, and peeing in a portable container, are noises I never wanted to hear coming from my husband.

I know he's in pain and he's the one who is going through hell. We have a toddler. We have fun summer plans. We have wedding celebrations. Camping trips. Weekend getaways. Poof, gone. And, I have to take care of Every. Fucking. Thing. Thank goodness we have a ton of family and friend support. I love them and incredibly grateful. Thank you thank you thank you.

Listen folks, when people offer help, you give them a task they can 1. Handle. 2. Not too big that it's daunting. 3. Not too small that it's insignificant.

It's takes a village.

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My toddler woke up at 4:30am yelling for mangos. We had them, but no coffee.

How's your Saturday morning?

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Sick days

I'm laying in bed with my sick toddler sleeping on me. Well, he can't actually sleep on me anymore because he's too big so his head is up against my chin and his limbs dangle where they want. He's got some respiratory bug. Coughing. Sneezing. Runny nose for days. The kennel cough I call it.

Since being at day care three days a week, he picks up everything. Every cough tears at your heart strings. Every whine and whimper make you want to take his discomfort away. Every wake up in the middle of the night make you want to bang your head against the wall.

But, I love when he sleeps on me. I know these cuddling sessions are not long for this world. He'll keep growing and snuggle less. But, right now, in this moment, he needs his mama to snuggle him good.

It sucks to take time off to care for your sick kid. Work is often easier than home. And there goes a day off that could had been used for something more fun. But, at least I have the time off and can use it when my little duder needs me the most.

It is so hard to be a working parent. A stay at home parent. It's all really hard. Especially when your baby is sick. There's this mother guilt that floods me. Why are you working? Why don't you just stay home and raise your son?

I can't compare the world we live in today to the one that my parents raised me in. I have a career. One I love. I have my hobbies. I have my life. Trying to juggle it all is where I get lost. It's in these moments with my kiddo sleeping peacefully on my chest that remind me I'm doing the best damn job I can do.

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I wonder how many calories I burn changing my toddler's diaper.

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Hey you! What's new?

Oh hey. Toddler life my friend. 😎 Teething, exploring outdoors, and lots of chasing bubbles.

And running as much as I can.

Sorry I have been MIA. I'll work on more tumblr things when my life is slightly less chaotic.

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Hey Google!

3yo nephew: Hey Google, play baa baa sheepy dada do.

Google: Ok, playing Barbara Streisand.

3yo: I like it.

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Back at the track

I ran my first track workout since the fall today. 5x800.

This was my inner monologue: Too fast. Slow down. No, this feels good. Stay here. Too fast. You better keep this up for the second lap. This feels like the right pace. I like this speed. Don't look at your watch. Look at your watch. Too fast. If you run this fast then you're setting a prescident for the next ones. Steady. Look at your watch. No, don't. Finish steady; don't blow your load at the last 100. Holy shit, way too fast. Idiot. Fuck.

I ran them in 3:10, 3:04, 3:02, 3:03, and 2:59.

Holy shit. It's only April. Let's go!

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If men had boobs, the hospital would proivde an endless supply of bras.

One of my favorite Residents. And, sadly she's right.

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Toddler tantrums of the week

* The squirrel we were watching left the window sill. He didn't even say 'Buh Bye'.

*I wouldn't read books at 2:15am. I do appreciate his love for literature, but the middle of the night is time for bed.

*I told him eating crayons was icky.

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I swear my husband tightens all our lids extra tight so I still need him for something.

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Current reading material.