A Rant About How I Am Stressed and I Am Lucky

I'm up early, scrolling through one of my favorite educational blogs for ideas about connecting with my students. I forgot to pick up the pictures I had printed yesterday (one of each of my students, to display in the hall outside the classroom), and I'm wondering if I should grab them on the way to school or keep that precious time for lesson planning and get them on the way home, but the boys have a brand new babysitter today and I also want to leave plenty of time to get home and see them and thank her for saving our asses on the preschool pick up front. The weekend was super busy with visiting with family and previewing music classes. I think it's funny that I thought I would paint my nails when I barely got lunches packed and there are still wedding and thank you cards sitting on my desk that I meant to send out a solid month ago.

I need more time.

I was getting stressed out yesterday because the beginning of things is hard and I often lose sight and think that means my life is hard. We're adjusting to a totally new school structure for the boys, and life in this big new house, and plunging back into the busy that I missed so much over the summer. It's hard right now, to smooth the edges into a routine that works for us, and I angrily got into the shower and a poor stupid spider fell out of the shower curtain and my frustration outweighed my terror (nothing is worse that spiders when you're naked and vulnerable) and I smooshed that poor guy while shouting "I JUST WANT FIVE MINUTES IN THE SHOWER WITHOUT SOLVING A PROBLEM YOU ASSHOLE." Ben walked to the door of the bathroom, observed my wet naked freak out, and turned around and left.

But then I got back under the water and started thinking, and breathing, and remembering that I am so stupid lucky. Luckier than I realize most of the time. My house is harder to manage because it is bigger, because we live somewhere with enough space for our kids to play and for us to each have our own domains to be alone and put out all our weird collections. Drop off/pick up is much more complicated because the boys are in Real School, interacting with kids and learning skills and it's so, so good for them, even if the hours are ridiculous for working people. I'm overwhelmed at work because I am meeting 19 new children who have already become my classroom family, kids I am privileged to teach at work with a team that I adore. It IS hard, don't get me wrong, but totally worth it,

It feels very Pollyanna to flip the script in this way. I want to be dark and sarcastic and go on Twitter rants about it being a woman's job to arrange childcare (and I have done all these things), but the reality is that I have a damn good life and all of my "problems" stem from the riches I have in the form of a healthy family, lovely home, and rewarding career. So wah, feel sorry for me. Yeah, I'm allowed to be stressed- things are truly stressful right now. I'm allowed to feel overwhelmed at the New that is shaking down right now. But I also need to take a few deep breaths, check in with all the positives I'm rocking, and take care of business. 

I stayed up late to pack lunches and write notes to my sons' teachers. I'm going in to school early today to get ahead of the week. I'm a little stressed, but I am doing something about it. I wish you the same kind of success.

Word of the Year 2016: Finish

I love the week leading up and the month following a new year. It's a dreamer's paradise. SO many I'm-going-tos with zero harsh realities busting bubbles. That's for February.  I also love the best-of lists that recap the previous year. I've read about the best books, best movies, best pictures, biggest highlights, most important news stories. I adore every second of it. 

I went back and looked at my own 2015 and realized that I really lived the life last year. For the most part, it was a constant party (especially during the months of September and October, when I was literally celebrated for huge chunks of time) and I spent a lot of time doing exactly what I wanted to do. I traveled alone. I devoted hours and hours to myself and my hobbies. The amount of pleasurable adult time I was granted kind of blows my mind- I can't believe I was able to pull that off with a 2-year-old and a 3-year-old. I was selfish. It was good.

But it's not sustainable for a life. I'm considering 2015 The Year I Celebrated Adulting (turning 30) By Acting Like A Teenager. As a result of that, 2016 has become The Year I Buckle Down.

Naming this year turns my stomach,

I don't want to buckle down. I have had a taste of a life that I should have been pursuing much earlier, and I am frankly hooked. I got married young and started my career young and did not spend enough time reading until dawn, drinking on the beach, writing stories for the fun of it, and going to themed events as I should have. I spent a lot of 2015 turning to Ben and saying, "What the hell did I do with my hours of free time before I had kids?!" The honest answer is I ate a lot of junk food, smoked cigarettes on our crappy back porch, and struggled with depression. So I'm glad I'm finally hitting my stride, even if it's a little late.

Despite my whining, I'm ready to Adult a little harder this year, because there is work to be done. I used a lot of logic to pick my word of the year, but honestly what got me started was realizing that two of the TV shows I obsessed over this year are languishing, unfinished, in my Netflix queue (I have one season left of Buffy and two seasons left of Doctor Who). I have stopped SO many important conversations with my friends because they don't want to spoil the Slayer's final battle. I will finish the shows I start.

Other things need to be finished, too. Ben and I just spent some time with a realtor friend and we are going to put our house on the market. (Another sentence that turns my stomach. Teeth clench emoji goes here) We've tried this before, but things are looking more hopeful this time. Also, my kids have grown out of their crib-sized mattresses and new beds don't fit in their room, so we don't really have a choice! Our biggest job in getting the house market ready is to GET RID OF STUFF, and my biggest challenge is sorting through things without spending 3 hours rereading my college notes from Child Psychology. I have inexplicably saved them, and about 1000 other stacks of paper/old greeting cards/ticket stubs. I'm going to have to be focused to get through this process, and focus is not my forte. I will finish getting this house ready to sell, and fast.

Lastly, I have some medical issues that need to be addressed. Blood work that hasn't been done since the last time I really focused on my health (when it was a goal for 2013), an issue with my foot that I keep ignoring (which I know is the worst possible reaction), decisions about my birth control which actually become much larger family planning decisions which bring us back to the whole house issue.

I buried my head in the sand about all of this for all of 2015. It was more fun to follow authors on Twitter and put nips in my iced coffee.

In 2016, I will finish. I will be more decisive and focused, even if it means talking to a doctor about the bigger reasons behind why I can't seem to focus. I will pour a little more of myself into my family, and let myself get into deeper conversations about where and how we will live without hiding behind my phone. I will honor my children and husband by talking frankly about my health with a doctor. I will finally finish Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

What are you tackling this year? (If you like pop culture at all, the predictions/resolutions episode of Pop Culture Happy Hour was particularly satisfying to me.) Happy 2016, lovelies. 

Make A List, You'll Feel Better

What do feminism and organization have in common? You can't bash the patriarchy if you lose your keys on the way the rally.

Seriously, though. Where are my keys?

It's been funny, getting older. I know I'm barely older. I'm scratching the surface of older. But one of the things I'm realizing is even though I'm quite fond of talking about myself and writing about myself and wondering about myself, I have been in denial about myself for awhile. I am frequently late, inherently messy, and as scatterbrained as they come. I've made excuses ("I'm just overwhelmed with too many activities right now!") and they've been made for me ("You have two small kids!") but the truth has always been the same. Keeping my shit together is very hard for me, and without discipline, I can easily crumble. I don't crumble cutely.

Being organized doesn't feel very rebellious, and I'm not old enough yet to be over that. I want to be cool and spontaneous and roll out of bed and get up and throw together an outfit and do something creative with my time instead of planning. The problem is, then there is no clean underwear and without a well-packed lunch I will get SUPER GRUMPY and if I forget to cancel that doctor's appointment they are going to drop me as a patient. One of my favorite quotes is this commandment from Gustave Flaubert: Be steady and well-ordered in your life so you can be fierce and original in your work. This makes sense to me. Save that spark and leave it on the page. Don't waste all your crazy in front of the fridge eating straight butter, crying because you can't figure out what to feed your family for dinner (that has never happened.)

My good friend Kacey said LISTS SAVE LIVES and I love it. Routines are another golden ticket. Yeah, sometimes it doesn't feel very subversive to do the same thing at the same time every day, but you know what is subversive? Taking the hours you've got in a day and killing it, knowing that you're going to get your shit done and then have time to paint your nails or work on your side hustle or binge-watch something because you took control. Another thing routine can do is reduce your decision fatigue. This is a real ass thing that can drain you- making decisions makes your brain tired. If you can use routine to get rid of the paralyzing What do I do next? feeling, then you save that decision power for important stuff.

So that is where I am right now. During one of the busiest months of the year at my house, I am balancing everything using pen & paper and a downright ridiculous number of iPhone alarms, set to tell me what I am supposed to be doing at any given moment.  My absolute FAVORITE tool right now is this Daily Page notepad from the Etsy shop Thyme is Honey. I ordered one of these pads a few years ago and only realized when I ran out how much comfort I had found in just the act of writing out my day.  There is space for water and food consumption, fitness plan, today's goals, lots of To Dos, daily tasks, purchase, notes + ideas,  and a schedule of events.  The color and font combination is visually soothing. Even owning this pad makes me feel 45% more capable of handling my life.

I like it so much that I decided I had to spread the love, so I am giving one away. But I am greedy, so I am making you give me information in return for a chance to win. Please leave a comment on this post and tell me what you do to stay organized. Weird, out-there tips encouraged. Use the rafflecopter link below to rack up entries, and the giveaway closes on October 24th!  

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Good luck & happy listing!

Parks and Rec is ending, and other things making a mess of me

I've been struggling with routine and winter doldrums.  I can't stay awake past 8:00, I can't get my act together and write the to-do lists that usually keep me focused. I'm living in a constant state of scraping by, and it's too hard.  Some of it is weather and some of it is depression that Parks and Rec ends tonight.  I also need to pull my head out of my ass.  Lovingly.

I pulled some good articles about self-care and made a little Pinterest board.  There is some cute/helpful stuff.  Most self-care advice is shockingly mundane: eat some healthy food, stretch your muscles, light a candle, get some rest.  But that's the shit we're not doing that makes us seek out self-care advice in the first place, so I get it.

Also, I encourage to watch your favorite shows, drink some spiked cocoa, and browse pictures of cats and dogs being friends without shame,  Looking up the GIF for this post cured half of my ails instantly (the link to GIF above and 1000 more is here).  Also making me happy: 

Reading: Yes Please by Amy Poehler, The Grisha Series by Leigh Bardugo, and Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Lanni Taylor.  I love the main character in that last one, and starting the second book of that trilogy might be another thing that perks me up. (My Goodreads profile for all the info)

New podcasts I've discovered: Book Riot and Invisibilia.  Makes chores melt away.

Binge-watching: Friends, New Girl, Firefly, Portlandia (all Netflix)

How do you take care of yourself when you don't feel like it?What's lighting you up in the dead of winter? Also, please feel free to share your favorite Parks and Rec GIF because that made my morning.

The Word of the Year 2014: A Move Update

I'm starting my new year late in 2015.  I still feel like I'm tying up muddy ends of last year, which was good and whole and bursting with so much that it didn't end on time.  We just rolled in from a family vacation yesterday.  I'm easing into all the new, and I'm not done remembering the old.  Let's talk about our word for 2014.

The word of the year was always Move, and when we found out we couldn't actually move into a new house, we were initially let down.  I know Ben still struggles with our small house and a community that doesn't feel like home for him, but we're making changes in here and it's leading to a much more comfortable life.  One thing we really needed to do was decide what we wanted to accomplish in each room.  This sounds deceivingly simple, but we had to strip away expectations and make our house work for us.

We started with the living room and realized that we needed to plan for play and toy storage more so than adult entertaining.  With this in mind, we carpeted over our hardwoods with extra soft padding and rugs that can take a beating, got rid of almost all art, bookshelves, and coffee tables, and brought in the train table.  We went out and got a huge cubed storage piece from Ikea (it used to be Expedit and now it's something different but it's still amazing) and keep all toys, a good chunk of the kid books, and the kid DVDs in this unit.  This room is much safer and much more fun than it ever was before.  

Another big problem we had was no personal space for Ben and I.  Kids stiff was everywhere.  Ben's desk was shoved into our tiny bedroom, where small people were constantly climbing up to press buttons and scribble on the bank ledger. I had a laptop balanced on an end table in the living room, and usually a cup of coffee too close to the electronics. We wanted some adult space, so we looked to our trash-heap storage dump of a three-season porch.

It is appalling how we were treating this space. Ben was pumped about the clean up.  Then the entire summer was hanging out with the worker guys as they took down the walls and put them back up again.  Milo and Elliott loved it.

Ben took the charge on this project and completely brought it to life.  It was a year of securing a loan, hiring contractors, managing the work, ordering carpet, painting (a color he picked)- I feel like this room is the best present he's ever given me.  I don't have many pictures of it out here, because this is not where I come to hang out with my family.  This is where I come to write, and be quiet.  Ben and I are just starting to put up posters and bring our books and DVDs to fill in the space. I did all my National Novel Writing Month work at the little desk on the left.  After dinner, sometimes we let the boys dance in the big empty space in the middle.  This room is true love.

Another aspect of Move was moving our bodies, and I made some strides this year.  I ran, a lot.  My FitBit helped me figure out when I needed to get off my bum, and when I was powering through just fine. I used the Couch 2 5K running program all spring and summer, and ran two 5K races.  I consistently went to the gym in the fall, walked on the treadmill at least 3 times a week in November, and we did a five mile Turkey Trot as a family.  I definitely slacked off in December, which I feel might be my national duty, but all in all, I felt proud of the moving I brought into my life in last year.  There's more work to be done, but habits are being worn in to my beautiful brain grooves.  

Move was a good word for our family in 2014.  It was something that we were actively pursuing well past January, even when our original plans were firmly derailed. I'm not sure if the 2015 word will represent our whole family or something I personally want to work on, but I'm down to pick another word for another year.  It worked. 

I'll be back later this week to do a little personal reflection about 2014 and what my intentions are for the coming year.  Things are lovely and bright!  Do you have a word for this year? How did 2014 treat you? If you're willing to share, I'd love to hear.

When All Is Not Calm, When All Is Not Bright

The house is messy.  Piles everywhere, items that have no permanent home: wrapping paper, Christmas cards that should already be sent out, suitcases that, in my idealistic plan of a few weeks ago, should already be filling up with swimsuits and warm weather clothes that I'm digging out of the basement in free moments.

Free moments.

I have huge stacks of books that I wanted to wrap for my students, because just arranging books as gifts for them was not enough.  I have rotting bananas that I promised myself would become banana bread for coworkers and neighbors.  I am trying to honor Ben's birthday, a family Christmas, a Florida Christmas, and stay on top of all the normal stuff like work, exercise, an ever-shrinking social life, writing, reading, and constantly being better.  I'm trying to get it right, and getting annoyed with myself when I fail.

There is nothing new about this list of seasonal "failures." I cannot blame it on having children or working full time or any life circumstance- I would follow this pattern no matter what was happening in my day-to-day. Every single person has felt this way, and 90% of it is brought on by myself.  I set up my own expectations.  I put off my own success.  I tell myself, angrily, hissing under my breath, "Next year, you'll start in July.  You won't be so lazy and unrealistic.  You'll be done before November, your cards addressed for December 1st, and you'll never be scrambling the weekend before Christmas again." 

Instead of letting myself get caught up in all this stress, I'm trying to remember that it doesn't matter.  It really doesn't.  It will all be over in a blink, anyway.  Wrap, unwrap, Christmas movie, hot chocolate, drive, fly, visit, love, and then we'll be on the other side of it, slightly out of breath, moving into a season of abstinence and optimism, telling each other in work hallways and banks and the check out line, "It went so fast this year!"

Every year.

I won't condescend.  It's impossible to escape the busy of this season, and it's lovely when it clicks and you're watching The Muppet Christmas Carol for the 13th time and tree lights are on and you're digging into one of the gingerbread cookies you decorated while your kids drank frosting like energy gel during a marathon.  There's also the sweet sadness of crying with your husband after wrapping gifts in two different colors of wrapping paper (Santa and Other), picking tape off the soles of your feet while Harry Bailey toasts "To my big brother George, the richest man in town."  I hope you can find something about this riot that you can love, and try not to let the rest of the noise ruin the good parts.  This was the reminder I needed to write to myself today.

After the storm,  when we're lugging bags of cardboard and ribbons to the curb and eating one last cookie, I swear, I encourage you to take a second to think about 2014 as a whole.  Go back through your Facebook statuses, your journals, the picture files on your phone, the box where you keep your ticket stubs and postcards.  Think about what worked.  What were you proud of?  What do you want to do again in 2015?  What do you want to change?  Christmas is like a huge send off for a 12-month year, but sometimes it takes up so much mind space that we stumble into the next one swearing to lose weight and save money as a knee jerk reaction to treats and presents.  There is more to you than what you did in December.

Let's sum it up: Christmas is busy and crazy for most people.  You're not alone.  Enjoy what you can and don't beat yourself up.  Watch The Muppet Christmas Carol.  When it's all over, take some time to look at your entire year.  Make sure to celebrate at least one thing you're proud of.  Talk yourself up, brag about the wonderful being that you are.  If you feel the need to plan for 2015, do it by taking into account all that you've done in the previous year.  Do not sell yourself short. Do not sell yourself short.

This ends my ranty December PSA for the weary and stress-inclined.  I hope that you have some love to be thankful for and some love to give away.  I hope you're ready to enter 2015 bad ass and beautiful.  I hope we all keep finding the courage to be our own lady. Happy everything.

Some more in this vein: A reflection sheet from Tsh Oxenrider (I used it last year) and a post I wrote last December about self care in this crazy season.  Be well, lovelies! XOXO

Lately

I feel like I'm starting another post by apologizing, and I don't want to do that.  Let's just say, I note my unusually long absence, and I can't put my finger on exactly why.  Getting up and writing here used to be one of my favorite things to do- something I looked forward to.  I fought to buy the time to spend putting together posts.  It was this huge, exciting privilege.  And in November, I fell out of the habit.

In all parts of my life, I'm feeling a little disconnected right now.  I keep using the word "floating" to describe the weird feeling, even though I'm very lucid and not exactly having trouble concentrating.  I'm just untethered. I feel like I have no time to do all of the things I need to do (original, I know) and at the same time, I'm a little bored.  I don't exactly feel Christmasy, but I'm not feeling hectic or annoyed.  It's a gentle funk.

I think it's because all of last month, I had one very clear, very measurable, very large goal.  It was the thing that I was doing, and I arranged the rest of my life neatly to make space for fifty thousand words.  Without that goal, I'm unmoored.  There is time for everything, so I'm doing nothing.  I want to pick at my story, I want to read other people's work, I want to make gift guides and plan out my attack of my birthday list.  I'm not even digging in that deep into the typical chores of this season.

Another thing I'm realizing is I just finished nine long novels by the same author in about a month and a week.  I loved the world she created and I loved always having another book, another chance to find out what would happen.  There are two different series within this world, and they crisscross, and I'm already rereading the one story where they overlap the most to try and make new connections, but in all honesty, I need something new to read.  I hadn't been so hungry for books in a long time, and I definitely redefined my priorities to disappear into an imaginary world more often.  It was wonderful, but it's different.

I'm liking who I am when reading and writing take up most of my free time, but I need some balance.  December is one of my favorite months- I love year-end reflections and imagining what I want the next 12 months to bring.  I'm hoping I can shake this case of the blues and get back into a routine that makes me proud.  

What do you do to break a funk?  Any book recommendations?  I need all the help I can get.  Love you all!

Things I'd Tell My Younger Self

(21-year-old Ashlie in her beloved college apartment)

I'm far from having it figured out.  I still fall asleep with my make up on and teeth unbrushed horrifyingly often.  I haven't completely broken the habit of picking fights with my husband.  I ramble when I'm nervous, or when I'm super caffeinated, or when I really am into the sound of my voice.   I'm a precious work in progress, people.  

STILL, there are some things I do know.  Most of my sage is advice is hard earned and can boiled down to "drink slower and listen more."  But after celebrating ten years of dating and living with my now-husband, I've been thinking about college Ashlie, the girl who carried years of insecurity and the need for validation with her into a binge drinking, self regulating atmosphere, and I marvel that I made it out alive.  It makes sense that you can only earn the confidence that I feel at this point in my life, but there are messages I wish I could send to my younger self.  Here are a few of them.

1. A guy wanting to sleep with you is not a compliment.

Let's get this one right out of the way.  In college, the culture tends to be "drink up, get down, hook up, YOLO!"  If yolo was happening while I was in college, I would have been one of the people non-ironically leaving YOLO as my away message on Thursday and Friday nights.  I wanted SO BADLY to be a part of the college life that I had seen in movies.  One of my biggest regrets is wearing a shirt that said "Makeout Bandit."  I found it very thrilling at the time.  I wanted to entice someone, to be watched across the room at a party, to banter.  I wanted to interact with someone, to be liked, to have the feeling be mutal.  I confused a lot of these feelings with someone wanting to make out with me.  I figured that if someone wanted to kiss me, touch me, come home with me, then I'm the chosen one! Even if the chooser is very drunk and kind of gross and throws up twice before asking you to go back to his place, it feels good to be chosen.

We know where this is going.  Most guys (especially the kind picking hookups from a pool of drunk girls in a dirty basement) are going to sleep with anything warm and with a pulse.  It does not mean they are into you.  It does not mean they will be nice to you later.  It does not build up your esteem.  If you are having consensual, fun, unattached sex, then more power to you.  But if you are a 17-year-old looking for an older brother-ish kind of mentor figure who will also make out with you (wait, what?) and who will stop every single time you want them to stop, don't hook up with people who have been drinking at house parties on Myrtle Street.

2. You never have to finish your drink.

Ever.  I still get guff for this at 29 freaking years old.  There are no wounded soldiers, there are no "sober kids in China," (I think this bumper sticker was a play on the 'hungry kids in China' line from childhood?) and it is not a damn shame to waste that booze.  I can remember times in college when large guys would literally block the door and not let me leave a party until my cup was empty.  I would smile and giggle and love that I was getting attention, and then drain my cup and then black out.  I'm sure every one of you has a similar story about being "teasingly" forced to drink.

Even after college, when I would go out with friends, there was this whole weird thing where people would insist that I drink everything I ordered. No one has ever even noticed if I don't finish my diet coke, but leave 1/4 of a beer in the bottom of the bottle and people get embarrassed for you.  YOU NEVER HAVE TO FINISH YOUR DRINK.  You can one take sip, zero sips, or drink exactly half.  No one dictates what you put in your body.  Take the indignation that pours out of you when your mother suggests you do something, and direct it to the next person who tells you you have to finish your alcohol.

3. You are doing the right thing going to class about 65% of the time.

I recently realized that I am a poor student.  I thought that because I like to read and write and can carry a decent intellectual conversation, I must fit into the ranks of teacher's pets and hard workers.  In reality, I did papers and assignments late or not at all, asked for extensions and extra credit work at the last minute, and skipped class often.  Unless it was a theater class, I would pretty much treat it like an optional thing.  I would skip for weather, if my apartment needed tidying, if my friends wanted to go out to lunch, or if my boyfriend wanted to go on a drive. I particularly remember skipping class on a Monday when my grandfather was visiting and touring Boston with him and my family.  Not a carefully planned trip, just spontaneously decided to shirk responsibility. I regret nothing. No job has ever asked to see my transcript or asked me what tools my Humanities in the 1800s class provided me with.  Those memories with my friends and family and cat/daytime TV are so much more important to me than a perfect attendance record, and it's much harder to take 5 mental health days a month at this point in my life.

4. The teachers you are working with as an intern will be your colleagues in a few years.

On the flip side of the skip-all-the-classes coin, I want to emphasize to my younger self that these practicums and internships and student teaching gigs are REHEARSALS FOR REAL LIFE.  I had a move to Florida scheduled to happen right after I graduated, so I never imagined that I would be looking for jobs in the district where I was doing all my intern work.  Luckily, I didn't let that have much effect on my performance, and I was proud of a lot of my student teaching work.  GOOD, because one year later, I was applying for jobs where I had student taught, and I know work with several people I brushed elbows with as a student teacher.  Some of my most valuable treasures are the letters of recommendation I received from professors and teachers that helped me with pre-service teaching practice.   Younger self: you don't know where you'll end up or what connections you'll need to draw on. Try as many work places as possible.  Be polite to everyone.  Take notes, and send thank yous.  This is where you should pour your college focus.

5. That little girl submissive thing you have going is not your best look.

Career-wise, I haven often played overly sweet, overly helpful, overly deferential. With teachers and employers, I picked up the habit of never talking back, always agreeing that I am not put out, and always saying yes.  Laughing at jokes that mock things I believe in, gossiping about someone I don't actually dislike, executing plans and projects that I don't think are the best.  Kelly from the blog Adulting tells a story about this "good girl" syndrome becoming actually dangerous, and I'm afraid I would do the same thing in her place.  This attitude has saved me at times, I know- people keeping me on because I am helpful, and kind, and in general the things they want young women who teach children to be.  But it has also blinded me to the worthiness and power of my own voice.  My mother, sisters, and husband can attest: I have a voice.  I have opinions.  And only people who can't fire or unfriend me got that side of my personality for a long time.  Writing has helped me find my voice again, but I wish I had never lost it in the first place.  Teenage Ashlie, it's hard to figure out the line between tact and not speaking up.  Spend the next few years exploring instead of ignoring that difference.

When I asked my friends what they would tell their younger selves, I got answers like lighten up, let go of the situation, read more books, recognize that class/paper stress is much less than family/work stress will be one day, accept your family for who they are, know you are not alone, tell people what you really feel, you are pretty, you are worth it, you deserve happiness, enjoy this moment right now.  I think almost everyone has a pretty serious message they want to send back in time, and at first this made me feel a little sad.  So many wasted 20s.  But it doesn't have to be a downer, because we can learn from this right now.  I may have spent too many years in my life being submissive to authority or drinking too much to make people like me, but when I look back at the regrets of the 30s, those things will not be on the list.  Listen to the message you want to send to your younger self, and repeat it to yourself now.  There's still something to take from it.

Dear Younger Ashlie, work very hard for what you love, be purposeful about having fun, and above all else, be your own lady.

Dear Current Ashlie, you too.

I was definitely inspired by Sarah from Yes and Yes and her Notes to my Younger Self series that she ran last month.  Check out some excellent advice that others gave their younger selves.  I am so nosy and am dying to know what you would tell your younger self.  Please tell me in the comments!

weeknight playdate

It has been one of the marathon weeks the beginning of a new school year is famous for: late night meetings, solidifying old routines with new students, getting babysitters, packing lunches. It never takes long to get overwhelmed and feel burnt out.  While I'm at work, I'm Knope-ing it as much as possible and giving it my all, but when I'm home, I'm really cashing in on family connections to get me through.  Today, Laurel came to visit.

My sister Laurel is my best friend and one of my favorite people to spend time with.  My husband and boys love her, she compulsively does chores, we always get iced coffees, she seamlessly jumps in to the dinner/bath/bed routines, and we usually wrap up the evening by binge-watching Disappeared on Netflix.  Tonight was no exception.  We picked Laurel up at the train station and stopped at Gourmet Donuts on the way to the playground.  While the boys ran with Aunt Lulu, I called in a pizza order, and we picked up dinner on the way home once the sun was down.  Laurel's birthday was this week, so we put some candles in her slice.  We watched Sesame Street celebrity songs on my Kindle on the living room floor and took ridiculously late baths.  It was perfect.

Normally, a Wednesday night with a late meeting would have been a blur- too many episodes of Daniel Tiger, throw together lunches, space out and then fall behind the routine during bathtime, hassle the kids into bed, maybe fall asleep on the couch.  Having Laurel come out this even was a total breath of fresh air.  It was amazing to watch the boys' faces as the commuter rail train thundered in and be on the playground at sunset.  I love my routines; I firmly blieve they add to the quality of life and take a ton of stress out of day-to-day life.  But I'm also reminding myself that a gentle break can be a huge relief.  Do something out of the ordinary and you won't regret it.

Alternate Mission Statments

I tried to write a traditional mission statement, and I totally failed.

I pictured having something kick ass like Maxie from Ilo Inspired:

“To inspire, motivate and connect myself and others, to their own personal greatness” 

I wanted to write an article about having a mission statement.  I wanted to share it and talk about the golden rays of light this mission statement was shining on my previously mission-less life.  So I sat down to write, and I got painfully stuck.  A mean voice in my head told me how stupid it is to write a mission statement for a normal, boring life like mine (you're wrong, voice!).  The list of values I wanted to use to articulate my true emotional core all seemed stuffy and wrong.  I couldn't fit in all the pieces I needed to include.  Everything I wrote was clumsy.  I was seriously bummed.

But I still wanted something.  I longed for that sentence or two that gave clarity; I loved the idea of saying Does this serve my overall mission?  Yes?  Go for it!  Nope?  Thanks, but no thanks. I thought about where I'm at right now, with two little kids and back-to-school approaching and a need/desire to heal my body and a need/desire to write for recreation and joy.  I thought about what I actually wanted out of life.  I'm not necessarily trying to achieve new heights.  I'm often just trying to keep my head above water.  The best I can do is reset everyday and move forward when I can.   

Even resetting everyday can be a struggle.  There is so much work that is never finished: washing tiny heads of hair, flossing through exhaustion, prepping healthy foods, following through with interaction in my online community, saving a smile for my husband, making the bed, making a to-do list, every day, even if most of the items stay the same, and it goes over and over with no end in sight.  There is a lot of monotony in everyday life, and sometimes my dreamy spirit wants to throw convention out the window and be spontaneous lazy and WORRY ABOUT THE CHORES TOMORROW.  Except I always forget that makes me miserable.  Committing to  resetting everyday is a mission all to itself, and it's something that I need to work on.

Yes, I want to move forward.  I want to reach new health goals (upper body strength?!) and write for larger audiences and complete fun projects for my kids at school.  I want to organize closets and put bright new paint colors on the wall and send random care packages to my family all over the country.  Reminding myself to reset everyday will stop me from trying all of this at once.  This quote gets it: "Be steady and well-ordered in your life so you can be fierce and original in your work."  Thanks, Gustave Flaubert.  Way to be ahead of your time.

So that's how I came up with my alternate mission statement.  It doesn't have too much flowery language, it doesn't identify my values, it doesn't move me towards a specific goal. It's basic enough to apply to every aspect of my busy life.  It keeps my head above water. If you're considering a mission statement (and I endorse this, heartily) don't be afraid to widen your net until you find something that works for you.  Maybe you rock at resetting and need a reminder to do one new thing every day.  Perhaps you wish you were more intentional in your day-to-day life.  Don't be afraid to make your mission as large or small as you need it to be to be useful for you.

Do you already have a mission statement that drives your day-to-day?  Are you thinking about giving it a shot?  Here are some great links that can help you with the process: 3 Steps for Creating a Personal Mission Statement or How to Write Your Personal Mission Statement.  If you get stuck, a simple sentence or even a word (move?) can narrow your focus.  I would absolutely love to see what you come up with!

Mission statement image credit, text added by me // Reset Everyday image credit, text added by me

ashlie runs a 5K

So, I did it.  I ran a 5K.  It's just the latest in accomplishments that I'm crossing off my birthday list, but this one is a little more special.  It represents all sorts of weird things for me: getting healthy, and reaching a goal that I've blabbed about for years, and doing something that doesn't come naturally to me, because running does not come naturally to me.  And I think about that sometimes, if I get a compliment about writing or having patience with young kids, that it's almost like cheating because those are natural gifts that I'm somehow lucky enough to have, but it's not something that I really created.  It doesn't exist out of sheer will.  Running 3.1 miles on a July morning at the weight I am is something I could only do out of sheer will, and for that reason, I'm seriously proud.

I remember being whatever age you are in 4th grade (9?) and having to do the Presidential Fitness Test, which, for a girl like me, was truly a course in humiliation.  We had to try to do pull ups and push ups and sit ups and then, oh my god, the mile.  At the risk of painting a pathetic picture, I'll admit that I was easily the worst at every single section and I dreaded gym class with a passion.  It might have been the reason I tried to go home sick every single day of elementary school- I'm not sure.  But I remember huffing and puffing and HATING myself and hating the stupid mile around the stupid track, and always being the last one.  I remember- will never, ever forget- the kindness of my patient, encouraging gym teacher, who I doubt wanted to force little bookworm girls with glasses to run a mile four times a year (thanks, President Clinton), and who always clapped, and told me I could do it, and kept impatience out of his voice when I was still going, still the last one on track.  His name was Mr. Howard, and I think he might have been friends with my dad, and he is always the teacher I think of when people ask about the pivotal figures from your childhood, even though he taught my least favorite subject of all time.

So today, when I ran 3.1 miles of my own volition and crossed the finish line and grinned at the strangers who told me good job and felt like a rockstar when Milo patted my leg a good five minutes after I was done and said, "You did a good job, Mama," it was really Mr. Howard that I was thinking of.  I don't waste time worrying about the kids in my class who were bored waiting for me to finish.  I think about Mr. Howard talking to me like an athlete, telling me to pace myself and cautioning me to keep walking, even after I was done ("Are you kidding, Mr. Howard?!) to ward off muscle cramps, and never letting me feel less than any of my classmates.  I realize that I extended that same kindness to myself today, when people would pass me or I needed to walk or wanted to sip my water- I knew I could take those breaks and still treat myself like a serious athlete, because I had been taught how to be kind by a serious athlete.

Today I did a run that is shorter than most people's rest day workouts, but I feel like I won the Boston Marathon.  I said I would do something, stuck with the training, and beat the imaginary goal time I put in my head.  I'm not going to lie and say that I'm a runner now- it's not my favorite form of exercise.  My knees hurt.  But I'm so happy that I took this THING that I've been remembering crappily from my childhood and then obsessing over in my adult years, and finished it on my own terms.

Thanks for putting up with Facebook updates and Instagram pictures and my years of saying, "I want to do a run!"  I don't care if it sounds silly, but the encouragement that I get from old friends and far-flung family members on the internet strengthens me, and I'm so grateful for all of you.

gray day

This is my third day home from Florida and the 16th day since school let out for the summer.  I honestly have very little grasp on the reality of what it felt like the go to work everyday, but at the same time, I'm feeling frazzled with our calendar of play dates and travel and commitments.  I'm emotionally exhausted and my kids are acting weird.  

We have a good little schedule: we wake up and our mornings are a bit lazy.  Sometime around 8 things get frantic and we start rushing around, tossing sunscreen at each other, trying to find clothes.  There was this idea that we would spend every morning going for a family walk, and it's only happened one time so far.  We have morning errands to run, or play dates, or meet ups. We're usually in a hectic, exasperated rush and just bottlenecking out the door and spilling on the porch and trying to hush our snapping as we load up the van and Ben might get a few seconds silence before he has to head to work.  I'm always telling him, "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  These few hours used to be his chance to write out the bills and apply for loans and work on his personal projects and now they are full of negotiating and time outs and battles over pooping on the potty and begging for more Netflix.  "I wanted to get out of here and give you a break."  He looks at me and says, "You don't get a break."  He's wrong, a little.  I do get a break.  Whatever makes my soul tired, a lack of naps is not included.  Both boys have slept at the same time after lunch every day this summer.  If our day trip is particularly long, they sleep in the car.  There are moments of quiet and moments of peace.  

Still, I keep reaching this point where the noise is too loud.  My noise, from deep inside.  I don't know if it's texting and Facebook or the lack of work or spreading ourselves too thin.  It's a bone-deep undercurrent of worry about preschool (should I have waited another year?) and potty training (why does his cry sound sad and not impatient when I make him try?) and Elliott's milestones compared to Milo's milestones compared to my friends' kids.  I worry about sustaining weight loss, keeping in touch with my family, getting freelance work, being a better friend, being a better wife.  I fret about the thank you notes I didn't send out at Easter.  I remember the way I was so cruel to a friend in 6th grade, because she got some new clothes and I was jealous.  These are all legitimate thoughts, nothing fabricated; these are the things that would keep me up, if thoughts kept me up.  Instead, they run in the background, like a whisper, all the time.  Like how applications are running, hidden, on your phone until you double click the home button and slide them all away.

Whatever it takes to shake this slump is probably something small.  I might need a little less screen time or a daily to do list to dump my guts onto paper, slash out the "silly" things, and bring some order.  I might need to go out for ice cream more often- it's almost been two weeks.  A good book could snap me out of it, or even a classic movie-and-blanket-spread-on-the-floor session with the boys.  Any of this stuff could reroute me.  Writing this out, as always, was a giant first step.

Summer vacation is a gift, and so is getting to go to work.  Play dates are precious, and quiet time needs to be guarded carefully.  Chores keep life moving, and ignoring them (from time to time) makes life worth living.   I've wondered why I even bother acknowledging moods, when they change so quickly, but giving something a name is the first step in trying to understand it.  Today I'm gray.

hey suburbia, we're in love with you.

(image credit: Robert Adams)

This isn't what I intended to post about today.  I actually thought today might be the day I sketch out an editorial calendar for the first time in over ten years of blogging.  I have all these post ideas- I want to tell you about our new living room, about things we're writing/eating/playing/reading, about the way I feel about Frozen, and about the way I'm building my village while confronting the sadness of living so far away from so much of my family.  I'm supposed to get directly off the computer and do a laundry folding blitz, because I think it's the most productive thing I could possibly do with a double nap time (currently happening for the first time in months) and I know I'll feel SO DAMN GOOD when it's all put away.

But I think the truth, above, that folded laundry would make me feel like a rock star right now, is exactly what I've been mentally confronting all day.  Ben is spending time today working on a movie, and visiting with friends from college.  These friends (and others like them) live very different lives than we do.  They travel for work and pleasure, create and enjoy art, make last minute plans, start socializing for the night at 11pm.  It's a foreign culture, and not necessarily one that I covet.  Still, every now and then, those kinds of lives get pushed up against mine for a moment in time and I wonder "Am I too boring?  Are we too stodgy?  Is it okay that I really don't feel comfortable inviting people over without 24 hours notice?  AM I WRONG IS THIS WRONG SHOULD I BE SHOOTING HIGHER AIMING FOR MORE?"  It can get frantic pretty quickly.

I used to want to live in a tourist town in an apartment over a shop.  I would feel the urge whenever I was somewhere charming- Newburyport, Gloucester, Northhampton, Burlington.  I thought about the vintage curtains I would hang and the way I would head downstairs and into a little organic cafe for my coffee every morning.  I used to want to live on a working farm.  I wanted to grow all my food and have chickens and milk cows and sew my clothes using feed sacks and repurposed cloth from thrift store clothes.  I used to want to live in a big city.  I would visit my sister and dream about living steps from a T stop, meeting friends in little bars and having my nightly jog take place on the Charles.  None of these things were actually long-term dreams, just reactions I would have when confronted with different lifestyles, whether I was reading or visiting or passing through.  I can't sew and I couldn't live without a car and access to a Target.

My mom told me once that she thought I was going to be the daughter who took off and never looked back.  I was always independent, working from age 14, and I have almost zero family memories from my high school years- I was usually gone.  I picked teaching because I was good with kids during after school jobs, and I picked Fitchburg State because someone told me that's where teachers go.  I only applied to one college, and never entered into any conversations about why, or why not.  At Fitchburg (which I loved- those are years I still mourn for), I usually took the path of least resistance, got through my classes by doing a bare minimum, did as much theater as I could let people include me in, and fell deeply for Ben, at first because he was older, then because my mom didn't approve (read: older), and then because he was patient with me, and we had a home together, and then we got engaged, and it was all reactionary for both of us from there.

What we have now is fire-tested and weathered with age.  In October, it will be ten years since our first kiss.  I have no memory of adult life that doesn't include him.  Ben saw me through student teaching and watched while working in schools went through all the stages it goes through- "I am terrible at this," then, "I'm getting better at this," then, "I hate this," then, "I might stick with this."  He waited while I went through a "going out" phase that he had no interest in.  We bought and fixed up a house, had kids, traded in cars and secured an eye doctor, an insurance agent, a plumber.  We are deeply entrenched in a suburban life.  Yard sales, swimming lessons, trying to eat more greens, evening walks in our neighborhood, and battling the lawn.  We never stopped and asked each other if this was our end goal.  We just went along with whatever was happening.  And here we are.

I don't think it's bad.  I like going to the park, scoring deals on kids clothes, and getting frozen yogurt for a treat.  I'm okay with never being out of my house after 8pm and falling asleep in front of the TV every single night.  I don't like live music, and Ben isn't into restaurant meals.  We don't have family close and babysitters + daycare is wildly expensive, so staying home is a natural choice, and it usually feels right.  I understand that a house, a career, a sweet husband, and two healthy, hilarious boys is a GIFT, something I barely deserve, and it leaves me no real room for philosophical musing.  This is a good life.

I'm not sure there is a conclusion to this post.  It's a wondering out loud, and there's no final paragraph that can answer the questions.  I'm curious what you think.  Have you had very structured plans along the way?  Have you gone with the flow?  Are you happy where you are?  Do you think it's too self-important to have these thoughts at all?  I wonder where you stand.  I have a feeling that no matter where I am, as long as I keep wondering, I'll be fine.

ashlie gets fit

This post is about struggles with weight and disordered eating, and may contain triggers for people who also struggle with these issues.  I talk about goals based around specific numbers and time frames, and all of these goals have been set for me with a TEAM of doctors who are focused on the health of my organs and not the size of my pants.  The real focus here is the nitty gritty of approaching health, whatever that means for you.

"Please- if you have not had your mammogram- do not call getting a pedicure “taking care of yourself.” Love is not that easy. Love is not an escape from reality- it’s facing reality." -Tish from Momastery

I spent this April Vacation getting real, and it felt weird.  It started with an appointment to see my midwife about a month ago.  I hadn't been to any kind of doctor since Elliott had been born, and I don't really chastise myself for that, not too much.  Things were too crazy, for a little while.  But a little while was over, and they wanted me to have blood work done.  I went, annoyed to waste a morning getting poked and prodded, and went about my week.  And then I got a call that my resting blood sugar had come back high.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It looks like your gestational diabetes might not have gone away."

The nurse was cut and dry, and my stomach dropped.  That's bad.  That's the cornerstone of gestational diabetes, that it goes away when the baby is born.  I knew that my wake up call was coming, that this was more than postpartum.  If my blood sugar was still high a full year later, something needed to be done.  I mourned for old, ignorant me, who had no idea what blood sugar numbers were good or bad, felt sorry myself, and then made an appointment with my primary care provider.

While I waited, I did some research online (I am beyond good at internet researching as a form of avoidance) and talked to a lot of friends and family.  To be honest, I found talking to friends and family VERY HARD.  You know I'm not a private person, but discussing weight problems with people who love you- especially when you're sensitive to criticism- is a minefield of discomfort, burning red cheeks, and people falling all over themselves to say, "Well, you DID just have two babies" (I was overweight before my first pregnancy) or "You look fine to me!" (I like a lot of things about how I look, but now the doctor is telling me that body isn't able to function properly, so this is real).  No one wants to talk about fat as a health problem when its about someone they love, and I understand that. It's uncomfortable.

I felt nervous because I am a smart, smart lady. I have lost significant amounts of weight before.  I know about Weight Watchers, myfitnesspal, calorie counting, exercise, running apps, portion control, walking with my kids outside, low carb, no carb, clean eating, and "trying not to reach for juices or soda."  I've dabbled in every weight loss THING I'm aware of, any it's been many years since anything stuck for me.  I'm beginning to realize that my actual weight problem is not grossness or laziness, but the fact that I am an emotional eater, and when you're eating for emotional reasons, all your valuable health knowledge isn't going to rationalize away a binge.  And when you're already an emotional mess and you wreck your diet on a binge, it's even harder to get back on track.  Because you're sitting there hating yourself.  Which makes you get all emotional again. 

I've been overweight for many years, but I've never admitted to myself that I am an emotional eater or that I have problems with binging until about a month ago.  I been listening to a podcast called Half Size Me, which is all about weight loss and maintenance.  I started listening for some motivation to stick to calorie counting, but it's giving me complete power to get myself healthy once and for always.  Many of the guests have lost between 75-150 pounds, and they all refer to their progress as "their journey."  And all of them, even the ones who are at goal weight, discuss their struggles with binge eating, and how the psychology behind diets makes binging almost impossible to avoid.  So many of the journeys start with the typical approach to weight loss: restricting calories, cardio at the gym.  Then, at a certain point, most of the stories shift to a place where the women realize that what they're doing to lose weight isn't sustainable, and they face the fact that when they stop their program or diet, all the weight will come back.  This is combated by strength training to boost metabolism, learning about nutrition and eating with the goal to fuel your body, setting scale and non-scale goals, and crafting a healthy lifestyle.

Hearing people talk openly about failing on their diets was revolutionary for me.  It's not the way weight loss is described at Weight Watchers (which, honestly, was a tool that TONS of people used successfully in their journey on the Half Size Me podcast) or in before and after articles.  I also gathered practical tips for accepting binges when they happen and moving on without letting it completely derail you.  These are the parts of weight loss that I haven't been able to highlight or connect in my lifelong struggle to lose weight.  And one of the changes I need to make is to reframe that struggle.  This is not my struggle to lose weight.  This is my quest to get healthy.

In the short term, losing weight is part of what I need to be healthy.  After she saw my weight, blood pressure, lab results, and listened to me ramble at her for twenty minutes, my primary care physician had a very frank talk with me, which was brutal and I deeply appreciated.  She told me I needed to lose some weight.  She suggested seeing a therapist to discuss issues behind emotional eating and strategies for managing that, a nutritionist to evaluate my eating, and a program like Weight Watchers retrain myself on portion control and lifestyle change.  She said I needed to work up to 30-60 minutes of exercise- sweaty, elevated heart rate exercise- and to do that daily.  She told me that, if I didn't make these changes, I face hypertension and prediabetes, sooner rather than later.  We set an appointment date 4 months in the future, and she wants me to lose ten pounds by then.  I'm shooting for ten percent of my body weight: 21 pounds.  Yes, if you do math, I just published my weight on the internet.  It's time for real talk.

I've spent a little over a month taking in the reality of this situation, and I'm feel motivated (obviously) and scared.  I'm scared because I really don't want this to be another chapter of my life where I start something with great intentions and let it slide.  I don't want it to be another experience where I lose a ton of weight, look and feel great, and then let depression or a life change wipe out all my good work.  I want this to be permanent, and for it to last, I need to go slowly and deliberately.  I'm never going to get away from my metabolism or my predisposition to certain weight-related diseases, but I have a feeling that I'll have more luck tackling them at 28 then if I wait.

Right now I am on myfitnesspal under the name ashlieelizabeth, and using Map my Walk and Couch 2 5K apps to keep track of walking or interval jogging, depending on the day.  I've been keeping a food and exercise journal for two weeks.  I've been seeing a therapist and am meeting with a nutritionist today.  I have lost two pounds.  I am feeling strong.  But I'm not celebrating yet.  I've been at this point before, and I'm getting close to the time where I let something derail me.  I'm sharing this for accountability, and to keep track for myself, and in case there is anyone else who might feel inspired reading it.  I'm hoping to revisit the subject of my progress and share resources and information as they come to me.  I'm willing to do anything to make it stick this time.