Feeling Full of It

Ever seen Oklahoma?  Not the state -- the musical (or movie).

"Oh, what a beautiful morning!  Oh, what a beautiful day!  I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way."  

Today was an absolutely gorgeous day.  Perfect temperature, lovely breeze, not a cloud (that I noticed in a bad way, at least) in the sky -- sunshiny, gorgeous, perfect weather. 

To make the day even better -- it was Good Friday.  (a.k.a. - No school.  Mommy and girls are OFF!)

My babies woke up on the RIGHT side of the bed - with sweet little happy smiles on their faces.  We had an exciting day planned.  The Hannah Montana movie opened today.  We were meeting some friends for an early showing, then lunch, then park, then dance class.  Whew.  I knew it was risky, but I felt good when everyone slept well last night and greeted me with perky little hellos this morning.  

To make a long story short, I was not entirely so lucky.  There were tears, there were time-outs, there was lots of fighting and fussing (me vs. Littlest Princess, mostly).  The movie (what I saw of it) was very cute.  Lunch -- grilled chicken and fruit salad at Chick-Fil-A (with children on playground) -- was delicious.  Dance class started off rather badly, unfortunately.  We were late and I had to deal with one teary-eyed, obstinant Big Girl.  However, their spirits seemed to recover after class and we enjoyed a fabulous trip to the park (ran out of time before dance).  To top it all off -- we came home too late for me to cook dinner (sniff, sniff) and BOTH babes fell asleep in the car on the way home.  Woo-hoo!  

This very full and long day has left me feeling a bit full of it.  Not in a funny way -- just a full way.  Do you ever have that feeling?  The feeling that your gut has risen into your chest?  The feeling that you have something to say -- something to EXPEL -- that you may or may not be able to accurately express?  It's nights like this that I am apt to have a drink(s) of wine...but I'm currently on a litenany of meds for a variety of reasons, so my better judgment is urging me to stay away from the adult beverages.  

It's funny, too, how the "full" feeling seems to morph into a numbness.  

Perhaps this is fatigue -- on caffeine...and pain meds...and steroids...and Prozac.

Getting Back Into the Swing

Unfortunately, that's not the swing to which I'm referring. This is more like the swing I'm climbing back into...

My glorious spring break has come to an end, as all good things must do. This week, I've had to get back into the swing of things - which, fortunately, includes this blog! (You know how it is, you are more willing to get started on the things you look forward to first.)

So, with that, there's a few things that have been burning on my mind that I feel the need to share with you.

Item: I have found a miracle pill - and it isn't Prozac. Recently, after hearing about the benefits of B vitamins, I strolled down the vitamin aisle in Target. I intended to casually read the labels and generally scope out the B Market, when a little bottle called my name.

Stress B-Complex? Um, Hello??? I GOT stress, baby!

Needless to say, it didn't take much thought before that bottle hopped into my red cart and I popped one before I even hit the sack that night.

Wow. I felt it immediately. I have been more energized and "peppy" everyday that I've taken them. They may possibly be my little miracle pill.

Side effect not noted on the bottle: neon yellow-green pee. But it's worth it! (And nobody has to know...except everyone who reads my blog.)

Item: I'm thirty-two (almost) and can still (more like finally) do a cartwheel. My darling eldest daughter has this problem with stress and being really hard on herself...I have no idea where she gets it from. She's currently struggling with learning to do a cartwheel in her jazz/acro class. So, being the loving, supportive mommy that I am, I realized the best thing I could do is "tutor" her in tumbling at home. She just needs a little more practice and confidence and I'm sure she'll get the hang of it.

We tried practicing indoors and giving verbal feedback. We tried using our hands to support and guide her legs and body so she could feel the right form. (A method which failed miserably, by the way. Apparently, at the mere touch of our hand, she expects to be carried through the motions and turns every muscle to mush.) So, to what did this crafty teacher resort? Well, every good teacher knows you need to model first. And away I went!

I discovered a number of things...

1. Cartwheels are 90% psychological. It's freaking scary when you've never done it before (or haven't in a really long time) to throw your hind end over your head, relying on the strength of two feeble girly (soft and squishy) arms to prevent you from crashing to the ground and breaking something important.

2. Landing gracefully is much harder than it looks.

3. I look really bad in yoga pants with a t-shirt tucked in. (I had to protect my modesty in front of my father and any of my parents' neighbors that may have glanced out their windows!)

Long story short, I wowed myself and my daughter improved slightly (after she beat herself up after watching video of her own cartwheels). We've got many more tutoring sessions ahead of us, but I'm sure she'll get it.

Item: I'm no good at waiting in lines. All it takes is a few lovely days at theme parks to discover this personal truth.

However, the icing on the cake came as I waited in line at the Kodak machine in Target to print 9 measly photos for Big Girl's school project behind two insanely rude and inconsiderate women for 40 minutes as they scanned and printed copies of an ENTIRE photo album! They kicked my personal torture into high gear with a particularly vicious below-the-belt assault to my afternoon schedule as they turned away from the machine and chatted with an old friend who was, apparently, so close and important to them that he was completely unaware that she had divorced her husband FIVE FREAKING YEARS AGO and is now dating a new guy who is "a big boy" whatever that was supposed to mean.

At this point, I refrained from my vain attempts to silence my tired daughter's whines. Let her whine. Go ahead, baby. Tell them how tired you are.

"What was that, Honey? This is taking FOREVER? You're hungry? I know, Sweetie. Let me see, I think I found a stale fruit loop in the bottom of my purse. Suck on this until we finally get a turn to use this machine. I just hope it is before the preschool closes. It would be awful if the school called the Department of Children and Families because I never made it to pick up your baby sister. Poor baby girl, she's probably going to be the last one there tonight. I hope she knows that we'll come EVENTUALLY for her. Surely her teacher will take her home eventually, right? They won't call a foster home yet, will they?"

It took me a good...24 hours?...for my blood to stop boiling. Actually, I'm not sure it ever really stopped. I hate waiting in lines.

Manic Mondays

Treat yourself to a flashback while you read this post...

Am I the only one who feels like Mondays come around way too regularly?  

I can hear my mother in my head now, "Life would be so gaily, if it weren't so daily."  Is that the truth, or what?

I will spare you the whines...  But if you're in the mood for whining, check out this site.  It's rather amusing - in the watching-a-train-wreck sort of way.  Just let it be known that, next week, when I'm not trying to coerce a tempermental toddler (What other kind are there?) and an exhausted kindergartener (and we only have ONE DAY of extra-curricular per week) to cooperate and function on a fixed schedule, all the while managing my own blasted schedule, whacked out hormones, and filled-to-the-rim neurotic head, I will be blissfully enjoying a week of recreation and (relative) relaxation.  

Aaaaaaah...the promise of spring break is so close I can taste it.  

Isn't it amazing, though?  Like many things in life, it seems to get worse before it gets better.  Like suffering through sleepless nights listening to a puppy's high-pitched whine, begging you to allow them into your bed.  As they quieten temporarily, you hopefully close your eyes with a sigh of relief and fatigue...only to throw the lids back open a short minute later as the now ear-piercing whining returns.  

Like potty training a child.  The first day in Big Girl Panties/Big Boy Underwear may surprise you.  You may arrive at the preschool to, amazingly, find them still in the same outfit!  HOORAY!  NO ACCIDENTS!  Not to worry, Mommy Dear, tomorrow will be different...and the next day...and the next.  Better go stock up on changes of clothes because your laundry burden is about to multiply ...exponentially.

Like being pregnant.  In the beginning, you feel like crap - if you're lucky.  Then, nature has this way of teasing you for a while during your second trimester.  It grants you temporary relief from nausea, blesses you with a budding tummy (just enough so people actually know for sure you're pregnant), and fills your bra with bodacious boobs (that's for your hubs).  Until you run into the wall that is your THIRD TRIMESTER.  Ugh.  Your body hurts.  You can't sleep.  Braxton-Hicks contractions control your life.  Your varicose veins are so bad people think your foot is actually broken.  Acid reflux.  Lower back pain.  Even your MATERNITY CLOTHES no longer fit.  And that due date begins to feel more and more like a mirage in the desert.  

So, this week, in my final 4 days before my long anticipated, glorious Spring Break (cue angelic light and trumpeting here) I plan to run myself ragged, wake up early and work late, climb mountains (er...StairMasters?), run a marathon (over the course of the week) and completely deplete myself of energy and the zest for life....because...well...isn't that what I do best???