My three year-old is a big fan of Marie Kondo. Admittedly, so am I. “Does it bring you joy?” was a common refrain in our family this summer. It’s my tween, interestingly enough, t…
Source: Does it bring you joy?
Author: sharingmoxie
Getting it wrong…feels so right.
Smart, but bland.
Bold & decisive.
I have been a rule follower my entire life. I was a good student, graduated early, got a job, went to grad school. Blah, blah, blah.
Somewhere along the way I lost my voice.
I’m certain it wasn’t one pivotal ground shattering moment. These things often happen by degrees, tiny losses that accumulate into something more. There’s a chestnut that I often pull out in therapy sessions…I’m going to share it with you for free (because I like you): listen to your gut. It won’t lead you astray. Listen to the little niggling voice that says “Yo-ho matey! Not o.k.” or alternately, “Yes, yes, yes!!!”.
I recently built a house which was, and remains, a money pit nightmare. If I’m being honest, one of my biggest mistakes was that I was so afraid of messing up that I couldn’t commit to anything. I was a builder’s daily dose of pain. I vacillated between being pushy and then folding like a card table. “Move the wall here, change the stair case, oh, forget it.”
In the end, my daughter complained that I didn’t pick out any colors in the house. (See her room and my hallway above). Beige isn’t in her color palette. When it comes to decorating, like many other things, she is bold and decisive.
I am smart, but bland.
I have reached a pathetic precipice where I don’t want to pick out a color for my stinking walls, because I don’t want to get it wrong.
Oh my. This is a sad state of affairs.
The only thing I’ve been getting wrong is my life. Here’s to adding color, literally and figuratively to your lives, people. Claw your way back. It starts with paint color for me, prosaic, I know, but it leads to other things. If I can pick a paint color and hang something on my walls that screams “yes, yes, yes!”, then maybe I’ll be ready for more. One day soon I can apply for that dream job. Writing this blog has been a step towards…something.
You like Harlequin novels? Stop hiding them under your bed. School supplies light your fire? Line up those post-its with pride. Want to go on a road trip? Map it out and save your change. Maybe then, you can move onto bigger things, too. I get it, I sound a bit like Oprah here. Life your best life and all that, but she didn’t become a billionaire by eating bonbons.
Lot of quotes out there about a life un-lived, I have little to add upon the great writers in this regard. Your voice is important. Find it. Pick a color. Not worrying about getting it wrong…feels so right.
Keep sharing moxie.
P.S. Hello to my first fan, from England, whoever you are! Cheers!
Phone Detox
Picture yourself here, with a drink in your hand. It’s warm and there is a slight breeze. The people you love are running around playing. Ping! You look down at your phone. It’s an email from work and instantly you’re upset. You’re back in your office. And your pina colada sits there melting while you type a response.
Confession: that’s me, folks. A couple of weeks ago I was in this beach chair and I caught myself wasting time on a work e-mail on vacation. This is , admittedly, 10 kinds of pathetic. To add insult to injury, I’m a mental health provider.
PHYSICIAN HEAL THYSELF…
I have a few vices, like many others, they are as follows: caffeine, chocolate, wine, and…my phone. On the spectrum of maladaptive human behaviors or indulgences, I’m pretty small fry. The phone though? It’s getting to be obnoxious, even to me.
I’ve given up caffeine before. I’ll bet many of you have, too. The first few days are rough. Gah, the headaches can reduce you to tears. Going on a phone detox is similar, minus the physical pain. You don’t know what to do with your hands. You want to click through pages and stay caught up, but you resist. Or, even better, you’re in a place with no reception, forcing you to look up and around at other people.
My husband and I vacation differently. He wants to exercise every day. I want to read with a fruity drink in my hand. I’ve decided I like my husband and my kids more on day 3 of a vacation. They would say the same. I can’t run off to the Caribbean every week, so I’ll add that I also like myself more when I don’t have a phone in my hand…constantly. I’m working on it.
Some day I may look back on this beach moment as “hitting bottom”. This is where I realized how ridiculous the swirling whirling shitstorm of work and constant connectivity really is. I’m back to my real life now. I still carry a phone, but I am looking forward to next weekend for Easter. I have a planned three-day phone detox. Won’t you join me??? I’d love to hear how you feel after three days of being unplugged. I’ll still be consuming a load of Cadbury mini-eggs, my Caribou coffee will be present in my cup each morning, and a bit of wine will be in my glass at Easter dinner, but I won’t have my phone on. I think it’s a fair trade. One can’t cut out everything all at once. Right? Yes, that’s right.
Keep sharing moxie. Really! Send your friends to http://www.sharingmoxie.com so they can join the fun. A giant shout-out to my four new followers from Brazil! Olá! Obrigado!
Me: day three of vacay. Much better. Don’t be a ninny like me, leave your phone at home (or at least in your room) when you go on your next vacation.
Embrace life like a three-year-old
Every age can be pretty awesome, but I think the three-year-old population really nails it. Here’s a top ten list of why everyone should have a preschooler in their life.
- They radiate happiness (and anger, and joy, and frustration in quick order). Just leave the camera on long enough and you can watch nearly every emotion ripple across their face.
- Carpe diem? Seize the day? A 3 yr old lives it. This kiddo wakes up every morning and yells, bellows might be a more apt description, “Look Mom, look, it’s another day!”. This is said with genuine excitement as in “Woo hoo! Can you believe it?”. It truly doesn’t matter if it’s a snowstorm or if he’s in Jamaica. This kid is thrilled that the sun has risen once again.
- Magic is real. When else would you ask for a live penguin for Christmas and be certain it’s a slam dunk?
- Life is full of big events and small ones and a three-year-old will narrate Every. Single. One. “Why are you in the bathroom? Are you going potty? Can I look? Can I flush? Why are you looking at me? Why can’t I watch? I like to watch. Don’t shut the door. I WANT TO TALK TO YOU!” All. Day. Long. One could start to feel like a superstar getting this much attention.
- Super duper helpful. See exhibit A. My assistant finished their job decorating for Christmas in record time. Keep it simple, people.
6. Naps.Sweet Nectar of the gods. Nap time. For you, too.
7. You can buy costumes and dress them up. It’s 50/50 on whether said costume will be met with enthusiasm or regarded as a medieval torture device.
8. Preschool concerts are the best. You always have one nose picker, one crier, one loud and proud singer, the waver, and the commentator. One hopes that your kid doesn’t embody all of these roles at once. Children’s sermon is a wild card with the preschool set, but that’s why people sit up and pay attention when the kids start answering questions. 
9. The biggest gig they have going all year is their birthday and Christmas. When you’re feeling overwhelmed thinking about the 200 e-mails you have to answer it’s great to stop and listen to them invite and bar their sibling/friend/cousin from their birthday…in 6 months.
10. Let’s be honest, a 3 yr old hasn’t been knocked down by life. They’re still pretty fresh from God, but they can talk, emote, learn, and explore in a way that your rusty crusty brain has forgotten. They are bright shining lights and it’s pretty awesome to bask in their glow.
Here’s to all the preschoolers. The three-year-old set is out there nailing this thing called life. We could learn a thing or two from them.
Keep sharing moxie!
Dear Tween, It gets better…
Dear Tween,
It gets better. I promise.
Right now your teeth are too big, your mom won’t get you contacts, and your best friends are suddenly too cool for you.
It gets better. I’m old(er), and have a number of professional initials behind my name, so I speak with some authority. Trust me on this.
One day, and it will happen so quickly and slowly all at once, you will be happy and your life will feel like your own.
And then you will fall in love. And it will get better. And worse. Your friends will change. They will be more fun, and yet make you sad because they don’t know your history.
Soon enough you will grow into your teeth and your gangly legs. You will look around the room and know you are at the top of your game. Good God, relish these moments. They are fleeting, but it gets even better.
One day you will travel and your world will get bigger. You may get married. Or not. You might have children. Or not. Through it all, you will find your way.
Know this, it gets better and better. Heaven knows you shouldn’t have to have to carry off the triple crown of an ugly hair cut, huge glasses, and a lace trimmed blouse ever again. Many years from now, dear tween, you will find a picture of yourself so hideous, that you will feel compelled to laugh. And post it. And tell your younger self, and every tween you know, that…
It gets better.
Keep sharing moxie–
Judging Grandma (& everyone else)
My Grandma rolled with a lot of things in her life: the Great depression, losing a home to fire, the sudden death of a grandchild, becoming a widow. She didn’t judge much…except Fanny and her box cake.
It appears that high school never ends.
Many years ago Grandma asked me to go around to her neighbor Fanny’s house. I needed to pick up a cake she had made for a funeral. I made the mistake of commenting how nice it was that Fanny had done this. Grandma was less than thrilled. “It’s only a box cake. I know it.” And there it was, she should have known better.
I just read something today about how women judge each other. Obviously, a lot of this centers around the main hot topics: kids, working, breastfeeding, maternity leave, stay-at-home vs. working moms. True, but already covered ad nauseam. There’s a great deal of research about teenage girls with their queen bees and wannabees, too. With Grandma, it was box cake.
It strikes me now that we are the most hateful, harsh critics of those that are most like us socially, ethnically, and economically. You’d think that the opposite would be true, being afraid and judgmental of those most different. I don’t think we are though. I’d argue that I give most people a pass. If we come from different cultures, most things can be explained because we come from different cultures. It they’re younger, it’s their age. If they’re older, it’s their age. If they’re my age, it’s game on.
Sometimes I’m the mom with the cute Valentines, fresh muffins, and craft activities. Other days I’m the sweaty mess that packed two different shoes for their kid, ran out of clean underwear and forgot an important meeting. Truthfully, this all happened…this week. Some days I shine, but on many more days I race, crawl, and drag my way to a finish line that never appears.
My Grandma didn’t judge me, but Lordy be, did she judge Fanny. And Fanny judged her. Two women in their late 80’s with the battle of boxed cake, tallying who had more guests seated at their table for the mother’s day tea, and keeping track of whose children visited them more.
Let’s be better, ladies. I don’t want to be stuck in high school, in mommy wars, or wanting my 90th birthday party to be bigger than yours.
Just get up, show up, and do the best you can.
I will, too.
Keep sharing moxie.
P.S. Shout-out–I do love what a fellow blogger and former high school classmate (@harvardhomemaker.com) has to say about sticking together. It’s a message worth repeating!
Mister Rogers & My Cute Slippers
Mister Rogers. It’s been a solid 35 years since I watched that show and I’m just beginning to appreciate some of the genius there. It’s Friday night and I’m in my slippers thinking about Queen Sara Saturday and King Friday in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.
I was a Sesame Street girl. I thought it was a little weird and poncy that Mr. Rogers changed his shoes and sweater when he came into his house. My dad is about as far from a cardigan wearing man as you can imagine. It’s only now that I can acknowledge the beauty behind this very marked transition from “out there” to “in here”.
Everyone has a very public and private self. Our work clothes and badges, doctor’s coats and uniforms, they’re all a form of armor. What defines us at home? For me it’s my slippers. What is it for you? A tattered college sweatshirt? The paint splattered yoga pants that you should probably throw, but damn it, you love them?
I’m my most authentic, ugliest, and loving self at home. Changing into my slippers allows me to cast off, as much as possible, my public persona. In today’s land of connectedness we could use a little more singing, cardigan wearing, trips into the neighborhood of make-believe.
I celebrate the idea of King Friday. In our home it’s pizza night, not by royal decree, just by lovely happenstance that became tradition. I look forward to Queen Sara Saturday. She gets real coffee with cream and the chicklets get to watch cartoons and eat crappy pop tarts for breakfast. What I enjoy most though is putting on my slippers and feeling like, while I’m home, I can create and reside in the neighborhood of make-believe. It’s ok to sing, fart, yell, snort-laugh and ugly-cry at home. Read and feeds, pajamas days, and lego marathons are encouraged. I think Mister Rogers would approve. And these slippers really are cute as hell. Enjoy King Friday, my friends!
Won’t you be my neighbor? Keep sharing moxie!
Does it bring you joy?
My three year-old is a big fan of Marie Kondo. Admittedly, so am I. “Does it bring you joy?” was a common refrain in our family this summer. It’s my tween, interestingly enough, that is the greatest tidying up convert in the house. Truth. That alone should have you people rushing out to buy this book.
Confession: I am not a tidy person. I’d like to be, but not for reasons you might expect. The KonMarie method seems deceptively simple. Go through all your things, ask yourself if they bring you joy. If they do, keep them. If they don’t, chuck ’em.
I’ve always wanted to be a little more organized. Who doesn’t?? I don’t really give a fig if things are messy, because I thrive on a bit of uncultivated clutter. The reason I have become a Kondo convert is because the method asks you to hone in on everything that brings you joy.
Man alive, when do we do that? People talk about blessings and how grateful they are, lovely sentiments, but when do you go through the process of categorically deciding what brings you joy? The flip-side is that you begin to be able to articulate what you don’t like, even if it sounds weird.
Here’s what I’ve found… I can’t stand t-shirts with seams, wooden utensils make my teeth itch, and silverware should be heavy and pleasing to touch. I could go on and on. It starts to leak into other parts of your life: people, where you go, how you spend your time. It’s the reason that I recently booked a family vacation instead of paying for more mudroom storage. Screw cupboards, I need some sun.
Clearly I can’t escape on vacation all the time, and not everything I do brings me joy, but we all have the option of surrounding ourselves, to the greatest extent possible, with things and people that brighten our days. I live in Minnesota, nice is our currency. I’m a woman and mother, anything less than nice is bitchy. Revolutions can start in your home though. If you can’t choose what you like and what makes your teeth itch in your own home, where can you be honest?
My library, pictured above, is still casually cluttered, which is exactly what I believe a library should look like. Full, warm, with a ton of books to explore. And that brings me joy indeed (plus delight, pleasure, jubilation, happiness, gladness, glee, exhilaration, exuberance, elation, euphoria, and bliss). What brings YOU joy?
Keep sharing moxie!
It’s only a house…
It’s been almost two years since we moved into our new house. Much like bringing home a newborn, it’s only now that I feel like we might be emerging from the other side of sleep deprivation. That said, I’m going to try and give some advice to anyone entertaining the thought of building a new home.
Don’t.
Yes, don’t. There it is, all the advice I have for you wrapped up in one compound word. Don’t. If you’re like me, you aren’t going to listen, so I’ll add a bit more.
Don’t build a house thinking it will make you better organized. It won’t. You’ll have to do that on your own.
Don’t feel that your marriage is so strong that it can withstand the stress of building a home. It might not be. Those horror stories you hear about home building? Many are true.
Don’t build a home thinking more space will make you happier. Space does not equate to happiness.
If you’re still not convinced, I’ll carry on. You may reach a point in the home building, searching, remodeling process where you feel like the house is going to own YOU, instead of the other way around. You may be on to something, but don’t let the house win. After all, it’s only a house.
I’m going to sound like a cross-stitch sampler here, but it’s the people in your house that should bring you joy. If not, get new people. I’m kidding, well, mostly kidding. If you were a miserable person in your old house, chances are you’re going to be the same curmudgeon in your new one. Change yourself, not your house.
I’m not minimizing the power of home, certainly not. A home should be your refuge from the world, your sanctuary, but that can happen with any size, shape, layout or plan.
Pinterest and houzz.com are lovely, drool-worthy lies. Almost every home is not going to measure up. They are wonderful tools to be INSPIRED by, but not CONSUMED by. Preach. I took the picture of my kitchen (above) to suck you in. It’s kind of pretty here. It NEVER looks like this. I have a real life and, let me tell you, it’s messy.
Ok, I’ve done my best, people. If you’re still not convinced, carry on, with my blessings and goodwill. If you’re looking for building advice, ask someone else. All I’ve got is… two dishwashers. Yep, sounds excessive, but two dishwashers has been a game changer. I wouldn’t build a house for it though… 🙂
Keep sharing moxie!
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