Life with Abby

Abby:  "Mom...I think I want to go visit America. Because then I could be on America's Funniest Home Videos."

I got news for ya, Abby. With the things you say, you could be the star of that show!

My crazy underground garage

I am not a late person. I hate being late, I hate it when others are late, I hate it when other people make me late and in fact, the very thought of being late to anything sends me into a panic. As a result of this semi-quirkiness not only am I early for everything, but I am ready to leave early for anything, just so I can be earlier than early. 

Such is the case at this very moment. It is 4:46 p.m. and I don't need to leave until 5:30 for a concert that starts at 7. But am I ready? Why yes, of course I am. And I have been ready for at least an hour. Now I am suspended in that vacuum of time that exists between now and the designated departure with nothing to do but pace the house. I seriously drive myself insane by doing this. Why can't I chill out?

Another thing to blame on my anxiety, I guess.

So I decided to sit down and write, hoping that not only could I fill some time but maybe, just maybe, I can talk myself back into a semi-rational state of mind that tells me that everything will still work out if I am not there 20 minutes before the doors open. I will find a seat. I will enjoy the concert. Life will move on. In fact, maybe I should let myself leave at 5:45 just so I can push myself into my fears a little. Like exposure therapy or something.

I do this sort of thing constantly. I drop Abby off at school at 8:40 and then I mentally count down the minutes until I pick her up. For example, every time I look at the clock I think stuff like, "Ok, it's 10:30. I have one hour before I need to leave to pick her up." I even have reminders set on my phone so I don't forget, something that I doubt would ever happen since I am constantly thinking about it the entire time time she is gone.

In fact, I am hardly ever late for anything. I am at least 10 minutes early to church and I am so immobilized by this fear that I would rather skip sacrament meeting altogether than walk in during the opening song. My church meeting doesn't start until 1, but I get in the shower by 10, get myself all ready to go and then have 2 hours to fret about the house, checking my lesson that I have already looked at a hundred times and trying to coax the kids out of their pajamas and into the shower. I literally waste an entire morning doing something that I should only spend 30 minutes on.

Help me! What do I do to control this? I can't be alone in my neurosis. Even as I sit here I am starting to freak out because I really want to post this before I leave but I keep getting interrupted. Heaven forbid if I didn't post this until next week, but I can't do that because it would be late!! Ahhh!

Welcome to my crazy underground garage.

From Soccer Mom to Stalker Mom

I loved it when my boys were all babies.  I was their whole world and I held that world in the palm of my little hand. I fed them, I bathed them, I colored with them. I played Pokemon, Legos and Thomas the Train. I drove them to play dates, to the zoo, to Grandma's house and watched them swat mosquitoes on the little league outfield and get kicked in the shins playing soccer. I was a good little soccer mom, too. I always brought the best treats...none of this "carrot stick and string cheese" business. It was all sugar, all the time! Yeah!

And then they became teenagers.

Not only did their world get considerably bigger, I became a little teeny tiny dot on the map. Now my days are filled with anxiety and questions. "Why isn't he home? Why hasn't he called yet? Did he remember his wallet? Is he too tired to drive? Did he run out of gas? I hope he wore his seat belt. Oh dear, I bet he's been in an accident. I'm sure he's unconscious on the road somewhere. Should I just peek at the iPhone locator one more time to see where he is?"

And then it hits me. I have become a stalker mom. An obsessive compulsive, control freak who is gripped with panic when her children are not in her sight. I'm THAT mom. The one who still tells them to be careful crossing the street. The one who has the phone number of every friend her kids have ever had so I can track them down if I ever needed to. The one who sends her sons on a scout camp with a whole set of luggage filled with thermals and extra socks after giving them a firm lecture on staying with the camp and not leaving food in their tent. I swear to you that I am one step away from implanting a monitor on the back of their necks like in Ender's Game.

To all of those moms out there with married kids and empty nests I ask: how do you do it? How do you let go and release your babies into the world where they can live their own lives and learn things the hard way? It seems impossible. I admit that I am struggling more than just a bit. But at the same time I think of myself at their age; my whole life ahead of me, full of promise. Most of the time I felt confident in my ability to navigate the world around me. So why can't I let them enjoy the same freedom?

I can think of a couple of people in my life who were and are still really good at letting their children be their own person. (Yes, Mom and Dad - I'm talking about you). They listen, they give advice only when asked and most of all, they let us fall down once in a while and we become stronger for it.

But it's just so difficult. It's this urge I have; this dang maternal instinct that tells me to wrap them in their blankies and rock them to sleep. It's powerful; it's overwhelming; it makes me wanna roar like a mamma bear. But I am beginning to understand the important role I have in raising resilient children who can problem-solve and be responsible adults. I literally have to bite my tongue most of the time to restrain the outpouring of advice that will surely spew from my mouth whenever my kids come up against an obstacle, either large or small, but I am trying, dang it!

And so I keep trying. To let them be their own person, to let them fail (or not fail) and to just let them find out if they can do some things for themselves.

But most of all to NOT be the reason they wind up in therapy. :)

Fashion forward

Here is Abby in her latest get-up.  A girl who knows her fashion.  Note that the shoes coordinate perfectly with the fur trimmed vest and the multicolored bows are definitely making a statement.

I'm also pretty sure that someday she is going to hate me for posting these kinds of pictures of her.  Will that stop me?  Of course not.

Lost and found

***Spoiler Alert!***

This post contains a lot of irrational, unnecessary complaining and possible symptoms of a mid-life crisis.  Do not read this if you are in a good mood.

So here's my question of the day:  how can my life be insanely busy but incredibly boring at the same time?  It sounds impossible but there it is.  Do you ever look around and wonder why you keep doing the same dang thing day after day?  I get so frustrated with myself.

But I stay at home with my kids!

I'm supposed to love it!

But there is this irritating whisper in the back of my head that's telling me I am losing it.  That the person I used to be is gone;  lost somewhere along the last 17 years of motherhood and marriage.  Wait...is this what a mid-life crisis is like?  Am I going to start shopping obsessively, get Botox injections, and pack it all in and run away to Greece?  Hmmm.  I'm not gonna lie - Greece sounds tempting.

I admit that every time I start a blog post this issue is on the tip of my tongue, but the confession comes with so much guilt.  I have much to be grateful for.  My life could actually be horrible.  But it isn't.  I have great kids.  I have a hard-working husband.  I have a home and food on the table.  I am blessed beyond what I probably deserve.

So what's with this "woe is me" crap?  And who is spared grief?  No one.

I guess I am realizing a few things about the harsh reality of adult life.  We control nothing.  We don't know what tomorrow will bring.  Bad things happen to good people.  Our kids have free agency and they are going to make stupid mistakes.  We can't shelter them from the boogie man anymore.  Biggest of all is my realization that we're all heading in the same direction and it's a one-way ticket.  We grow up assuming that if we follow the rules, do as we're told, have a good heart, then everything will work out and we'll all live happily ever after.  Sometimes that is true.  We should have a good heart and follow the rules.  Happiness can come from doing those things.  But happily ever after?  I think that comes from choosing to be grateful for what we have.  All of the people I know who are truly happy are people who are humble, giving and grateful for what they do have instead of focusing on the negative.

Hello Debbie Downer!  But there is my problem:  focusing on the negative.  Not being grateful for what I have.

I know as I look back on my life later, this spot I am in right here, right now will be a bright and sunny memory.  But the fact is that we all have to work hard at being bright and sunny.  The guilty truth is that I sometimes begrudge my identity as a mom.  I sometimes feel lost as a mommy.

I wonder if I have yet to find my shining purpose.  Maybe my purpose for now is to just find purpose in the mundane.  Help with the homework.  Fix meals.  Do the shopping.  Clean up the kitchen.  Get my kids to where they need to be.  Wash underwear.  Then wake up the next day and do it all again.

For me this is a daily struggle.  Am I alone?  Are you lost or found?  I guess I am somewhere in between.

Chocolate ruins lives

This year I have resolved to eat right and become a healthier person. Then my neighbor drops by to give me these:

I'm pretty sure it's a bad omen. And yes, I already ate five of them. 

Shiny side up

You wanna know something weird?

Too bad, I'm gonna tell you anyway.

I realized quite a while ago that most of the time I only write about the shiny side of life on this blog.  I actually have another blog that acts as my journal;   it's one that I can only access and contains my raw feelings, no matter what they are.  But this blog?  Most of the time, it only has the shiny side up.  But let me tell you:  life with Shipleys is not always shiny.  Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I were to just write whatever I want, any time I want.

That's scary.

It's hard to put yourself out there.  It's hard to write the truth all the time.  I can't even count the number of draft posts I have, just waiting to be published, but I am too scared to do it.  To talk about the un-shiny things (un-shiny:  not a real word).  But what am I really afraid of?  Judgement?  Rejection?  Hmmmm.  Something to ponder.

Maybe I'll try to write a little more truth in the future.  Maybe I'll stick my toe in the virtual pool and test the waters.  But in the meantime, life with the Shipleys marches on.

The pictures say it all...

I have happy things to talk about after yesterday's rant about the spiteful month of January.

I went on a cruise baby!

A CRUISE!

It was awesome.  Really.  I can't stress it enough how awesome it was.  It was warm, sunny, happy and just plain fun.  Go on...be jealous.

Here are a few of my favorite pics:

Chillin on the sun deck

Towel animals!  Yay!

Abby and her new penguin hat.  Because that's what she wanted from Catalina.  A penguin hat. (?)

Alex strikes a pose.

Mario Kart...Catalina style

Abby, Seth and Kade enjoying the beachiness.

Awwwww!

Catalina Island

All fancied up for Christmas Eve dinner.

La Bufadora, Ensenada

Me showing off my cool new bag I bought at the market in Mexico.  Notice my photo bomber and the sketchy pharmacy.

Best fish tacos EVER

The view from my cabin window

Nate showing off his abs in the pool

Eatin' lunch with Grandma.
This was a spectacular view from the back of the ship.

Life is sweet.  :)

p.s. I hate you.

Bleh.  Bleh, bleh, bleh, bleh, bleh.

January.  I loathe you.  You are so loathed.  I loathest thou.  To loathe or not to loathe?  Hmm...I think I will loathe.  Are any of these usages of the word "loathe" correct?  Who cares?  Not me, because as far as the month of January goes, it can basically go to heck where it will be loathed for all eternity.

I'm not sorry.  I will not take any of it back.

I just came back from a downright awesome vacation where I spent 5 glorious days in the sun only to return to barren trees, polluted skies and black, crusty snow frozen to the streets.

Do I sound hateful and full of disgust?  Of course I do.  Because I am.  I am wondering if it would have been better for me if I had not tasted the sweetness of the sun because it only heightened my awareness of the stinking cold.

Someday I will move to a warm and sunny place and you will not have to read about my loathing.  But until then, I reserve the right to loathe this month with every fiber of my being.

Tomorrow I will have something happy to say.  Today I loathe.

Christina's World

Christina's World
by Andrew Wyeth

I love this painting.  So I thought I would share.  It reminds me of where I am and where I want to be.  There is a sense of hope about it that gives me comfort.  She's fallen down, but she looks forward with a sense of purpose.  I guess that's life.  Sometimes we run, sometimes we walk and sometimes we crawl.