The Swirly of Life.

Sometimes in life, we are faced with tough choices.  Often, it is how we deal with those choices that helps to define who we are for the rest of our lives.  This is a story about one of those tough life choices.

*Please note: This is a true story; however, all character names have been changed to protect the parties involved from the embarassment and ridicule that will likely result from publicly exposing this tale.

Once upon a time, in the early 90’s to be exact, there were three sisters: DJ, Stephanie, and Michelle.  These sisters were spending a month of their summer vacation at their dad’s house in West Seattle.  Looking for something interesting to do besides tying the neighbor boy up to a power pole, DJ and Stephanie decided to see if they could pull off a prank on their sweet little sister, Michelle.  After much deliberation, DJ and Stephanie determined that their thrill of the day would come from convincing Michelle to allow her big sisters to give her a “swirly.”  Little did the girls realize on that day, this seemingly harmless prank (harmless only for DJ and Stephanie) would be a defining moment in each of their lives.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, the Urban Dictionary defines a “swirly” as “the process of sticking someone’s head in the toilet and flushing.”  Unfortunately for Michelle, the toilet at issue in this story was one of a low-flow nature…meaning, if she allowed this prank to take place, Michelle’s head was definitely going to make contact with both toilet water and the water’s cold porcelain surroundings.

A self-proclaimed “master of persuasion,” Stephanie attempted to achieve Michelle’s compliance to particpate in this prank by using herself as a real-life example of the benefits of a swirly.  Stephanie wetted her curly (and awesome) bangs and formed them into a twisty style, a style that looked as though her bangs had been lovingly swished in a circular motion by the gentle movement of the water in a flushing toilet.  She entered the room where angel Michelle was peacefully playing.  “Oh, wow, that felt SO incredible. Just like an amazing head massage.” For emphasis, Stephanie closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.  “What did?” asked Michelle, her round and innocent face turned up towards her sister. “I just gave myself a swirly,” lied Stephanie. “It was awesome. You should try it.” With sisters like DJ and Stephanie, Michelle was familiar with the term “swirly.” “No way. I am not putting my head in a toilet.” Though the meekest of the three girls, Michelle was definitely the smartest.  Despite Michelle’s intelligence, human nature tells us that most people have a price for doing things that they really do not want to do. At that very moment, DJ stepped into the room holding something Michelle would never have the power to resist: a unicorn bookmark.

“If you let us give you a swirly, we will give you this,” bribed DJ. Michelle sighed and stood up…she knew what she had to do…

Needless to say, Michelle was very unhappy with the experience.  It did not feel like a massage.  The toilet bowl was cold and unwelcoming. But, Michelle did receive that unicorn bookmark in exchange for providing her sisters with such immature joy.  All in all, Michelle considered it to be worth it.

Fast forward years into the future. DJ is a scientist: a very results-oriented career. Stephanie is a lawyer: a career that in part relies on one’s ability to persuade. Michelle is a pastor: a career that may have resulted from her desire to do good in order to cancel out all the not-so-good things that were done to her as the youngest of three girls.  Don’t be fooled, folks.  Swirlies, and the process of implementing such a prank, can define one’s future.

Although I really just wanted to find a reason to tell this amazing story, I have been thinking a lot lately about tough choices and simply choices in general.  It is astonishing how a series of choices that we make can change the course of our lives.  We can all play that game: if I never did _________, I never would have met __________, which means I never would have been introduced to ___________, which means I never would have moved to ____________, and taken that job at _____________, etc., etc.  Whether you believe in fate, chance, or a plan that is put in place for each of us by a higher power, our choices are all connected to create the people we are today.  We are such a societly of wanting to control every aspect of our lives that it is hard for us to see that we often end up somewhere that we never planned – somewhere better than we ever could have imagined.

For some reason (actually I know the reason: crazy pregnancy hormones and insomnia), I have been reflecting a lot lately on who I am and what kind of mother, wife, friend, sister, colleague I want to be.  I am definitely far from perfect, but I realize that those two people – who I am and who I want to be – really aren’t that different. I don’t know if it’s my wise old age of 30 or my refusal to be hard on myself these days, but I actually – I’m going to say it – I actually kind of like who I am.  I have definitely made bad choices, and I have definitely made good choices, but they were all choices that have led me to this point in my life: about to be a mother of 2 (yikes and yay!), a stepmom to a very cool 11 year-old, a wife to the love of my life, and a lawyer at a great firm with the best boss and co-worker I could ask for.  Don’t get me wrong, there are always issues and rough roads that come up in each aspect of my life, but I try to make the best decision I can as to how best to handle those situations. Sure, sometimes I look to Google for help (actually more than I’d like to admit) and often I reference some of my favorite movies to get advice (thank you, When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, Revenge of the Nerds, Baby Boom, Dirty Dancing, Look Who’s Talking, and any and all Mandy Moore flicks), but I usually get to where I need to be without too much drama.

So, everyone, this is a bit of a rambling post and, as mentioned, a great excuse to share one of my all-time favorite childhood stories, but I hope you all find yourselves in a similar place or close to it – content with your journey so far and generally satisfied with who you are in the present.  Trust yourselves to make those tough decisions to the best of your ability.  And if you aren’t finding yourself in somewhat of a “happy” place, I suggest giving yourself a swirly. It could be a game-changer…oh, and it feels like a masssage….trust me… 🙂

P.S. For all of you runner friends out there, please take a moment today to dedicate your run to Meg Cross Menzies, a mama runner who was tragically killed by a drunk driver during her morning run this past Monday in Richmond, Virginia.  http://m.runnersworld.com/fun/the-list-friday-january-17?cm_mmc=Facebook-_-RunnersWorld-_-Content-Blog-_-TheList

Embrace the Crazy.

Happy 2014, everyone! I am FINALLY writing another post.  It is a tad embarassing how long it has been since my last post.  As you can imagine, a lot of life has happened since May 2013.  Here are a few of the highlights:

1. The Loaf turned 1. And now she is 18 months. She is still quite Loaf-tastic with a curly head of hair that naturally puffs up in a way that would make all of the Golden Girls jealous.

2. I raced in two half marathons.  The first was on Mother’s Day (the Kirkland Half) and the second was the Seattle Rock n’ Roll Half.  I decided to run both of them without my trusty Garmin watch and to have a race mentality of simply (a.) celebrating that I made it through my first year of motherhood alive and semi-sane and able to do an activity that makes me feel more like myself than anything else in the world, and (b.) appreciating my body. Ever since having the Loaf, I have had an entirely new respect for my body and what it is capable of.  More on that topic in a future post.

3. I got knocked up again. Yes, folks, the Loaf is going to have a sibling in late April.  That Swayze character sure knows how to get me pregnant. I swear we barely looked at each other and I became with child yet again. Meatball will make his or her appearance in less than 4 months. Needless to say, I have a freak-out about this whole “two kids under two years old” thing on a regular basis (FYI – the two kiddos shall hereinafter be collectively referred to as MeatLoaf). Definitely expect some blog posts on that topic.

4. I turned 30. It was not as life-changing as so many expect it to be, but it did happen. And I made it out the other side in one piece…who would’ve thought? I remember being a troll child and trying to picture my life as a 30-year-old. Aside from me not becoming a famous soap opera actress with the stage name of Ruby Goldmine, things have turned out pretty darn amazing.

5. Swayze and I had our 3-year wedding anniversary. It seems like only yesterday we were barefoot on a Hawaiian beach with drunken, jolly friends and family surrounding us while participating in a marriage ceremony led by a woman I found on the internet…a ceremony that was interrupted by two local boys yelling the word, “Penis!” as loudly as they could multiple times. Apart from having the Loaf, it truly was the best day of my life.

6. The holidays happened. What a whirlwind! I think I’m still exhausted and just coming out of my sugar coma from all the goodies I grubbed down on for days on end. Gestational diabetes, anyone?

7. I finally learned what twerking is. Gross. And impressive.

8. 2014 is here! I have always been pretty big on resolutions, but this year I just have one mantra for the year: Embrace the Crazy. That’s right, folks, embrace it with all your might. There is no use fighting the craziness of life or wishing that it was different or more in accordance with your plans (see #5 above regarding the “Penis!” chants…it is seriously a hilarious and cherished wedding memory for me).  Life is some nutty business so let’s just roll with those wonky punches and love it for what it is, okay? *Please remind me of this mantra when I am having yet another freak-out about MeatLoaf.

I will be writing much more frequently in 2014, my friends. A bit more about running (especially while pregnant…goodbye, bladder control!), a lot more about being a mama, and a hodge-podge of all things sweaty that relate to my life (definitely prepare yourselves for some deep and thought-provoking insights into my disgusting gland problem).

I wish you all an amazing 2014!! Be healthy, be happy, and, above all else, EMBRACE THE CRAZY!!!

The Dirty-ness of Thirty-ness.

Before I begin this evening’s post, I would like to address a few things. First, I would like to apologize for not writing sooner. I feel as though the hype from my first post has entirely fizzled out and I am now dreading a sophmore slump. Hopefully I will not disappoint.

Second, I would like to introduce a few main characters in my life by their clever code names that I have so carefully and specifically picked for them. My husband shall be known to all as Swayze. Why, you ask? Because after the adolescent dreaminess of Jonathan Taylor Thomas wore off, the love of my life quickly became none other than the chiseled and oh-so-hunky (even in heeled dancing shoes) Patrick Swayze. Yes, ladies, he was one of the greats (I am fully capable of dedicating an entire post to the greatness of the Swayze). A real manly man who could not only kick some major A as a bouncer (“Roadhouse”), but could also pachanga like a god (“Dirty Dancing”) and sing like an angel (“She’s Like the Wind”). Very fitting code name for my hubby since he can do all of those things (I’m guessing on the bouncer stuff and the pachanga specifically, but he is strong and can do the best robot moves I’ve ever seen). Side note: for those of you who personally know my husband, please do not tell him that his code name is Swayze.

For my stepson, I have chosen the name Mowgli.  A character in Disney’s “The Jungle Book,” Mowgli is described as a man-cub.  My stepson is almost in the pre-teen category, but will soon be bigger than his manly Swayze father.  Definitely a man-cub.  Although, unlike the character Mowgli, my stepson does not wear a loin cloth nor does he sing with animals. That would be weird.

Finally, my infant daughter (she’s 10 months) shall be called Loaf.  Not sure why. It just fits her.

Now that you’ve officially been introduced to my family, on to the post…

I am less than five months away from entering my 30’s.  A new decade of life that promises to bring me so much more than I could ever anticipate. I have mixed feelings about turning 30. Not because I think 30 is old (despite what Swayze says) and not because I think I have more to do as a 20-something (I have definitely packed a lot of life into the last 10 years: college soccer, law school, marathons, marriage, baby, and TONS of mistakes that I’d like to refer to as “life lessons”) .

My mixed feelings stem from a couple of things. Primarily, I am absolutely astonished at how quickly time has passed.  It seems like only yesterday my older sister and I tricked our younger sis into letting us give her a swirly (that’s a lovely childhood story for another day…and don’t be appalled – she got a unicorn bookmark out of the deal).  I feel like I JUST finished high school, let along college and law school. How did I suddenly get those “laugh lines” (let’s be honest…they’re wrinkles) around my eyes ?? Why do I sometimes feel like I’ve been hit by a truck if I stay up past 10 p.m.?? Why do I still not understand what a freaking hashtag is even after Googling it?? And why does no one currently in high school know who Zac Morris is or understand the dangers of caffeine pills as demonstrated by Jessi Spano?? How did this happen?

Aside from the crazy passage of time, I also have mixed feelings with the phrase “Dirty 30.”  Other than the obvious rhyming between the words, I wonder why turning 30 is labeled as dirty.  Is it because we all have a certain “dirtiness” to our pasts that we do not want to repeat in the next chapter of life (and, according to Tim McGraw, the next chapter starts at 30)?? I, for one, could have done without a few of my “life lessons.” Exhibit A: Consuming an entire bottle of ketchup does nothing more than produce a large bout of low self-esteem. And horrible dehydration.

But some things I’ve learned, although I’ve learned the hard way, will carry forward into my next chapter.  Like, although blonde, the long hair on my toes and ankles can, in fact, be seen by others. Make it a habit to shave those puppies before wearing flip-flops.  And, even though I love the color, “heather gray” cannot be a part of my wardrobe.  My over-active sweat glands see to it that “heather” and I are enemies. For life.

Instead of thinking that our pasts are dirty as we hit that lovely age of 30, let’s all agree that our pasts, although peppered with less-than-kosher “lessons,” were awkward, nerdy, funny, not-so-funny, happy, devastating, frustrating, hilarious, crazy times that were worth it. And, above all else, always, ALWAYS remember that no matter what…no one puts Baby in the corner. Sorry, I had to. I love me some Swayze.

Here’s to turning 30 and beyond!!

A Blog For the Rest of Us. Even the Trolls.

Yes, it is true. I have joined the trend. Now that I have a child, I have decided to blog. However, this is not going to be your typical post-baby blog. No ideas about how to save money (I am an Amazon addict). No craft tips on how to do things like weave a magnificent rug with the grass shavings from your lawnmower.  No do-it-yourself recipes like how to create a delicious four-course meal in 15 minutes that complies with all vegan, gluten-free, and Paleo diet rules (I can barely make a pb&j). No posts about my daily activities that will do nothing more than make you feel like a loser in your own life. Nope. None of that. This blog is for those of us that I like to call the Rest of Us.

I am sure you are now asking yourself – who belongs to this elite-sounding group, the “Rest of Us”???? This must be a group of special people with special skills who do very special things. Nope. It’s just the opposite, my friend.

The Rest of Us is a group comprised of people who love the idea of being do-it-yourselfers or extreme couponers or supermoms or craft goddesses, but who have never actually successfully achieved any of those titles despite having the commitment to get there and the best of intentions. The Rest of Us are the go-getters with all the effort, but a severe lack of skill. We are the people who always look slightly disheveled – whether it be at the hands of stains, bad hair, spinach in the teeth – even in our Sunday best, our little black dresses, our power suits, or our wedding dresses. We are the people whose “awkward stage” lasted a minimum of 12 years. We are the ones who know that store-bought items will always be better than anything we can attempt to whip up in our kitchens. We are the ones who attempt all things Pinterest, but, 3 hours later, realize that we should have just saved ourselves some trouble and gone to Target. Yet, despite the cards stacked against us, we continue to try. We try to bet the best versions of ourselves – our disheveled, awkward, domestically handicapped selves.

This blog will touch on a variety of randomness. From day-to-day life challenges (like how to stop myself from eating all of my stepson’s Easter candy or how running up a hill while pushing my jogging stroller makes me want to punch myself in the face) to bigger picture items (like how to break some of my psycho-lady tendencies for the sake of my marriage). There will be a little about running (because that activity alone keeps me as sane as I can possibly get).  There will be a little about mothering (mostly about how I don’t have any idea what I am doing). There will be some personal topics (like my ridiculous morning Mufasa hair and how that undoubtedly impacts my husband’s attraction towards me). And, as I am sure you could already gather, there will be lots of silliness.

On that note, I leave you only with this image of myself from my childhood. This stage of life kicked off my following decades of awkwardness that has turned me into the gem that you know and love today. I am the child in the middle. No that is not a wig. Yes, I realize that I looked like a troll with Steve Urkel glasses.

Until next time!