Any Given Sunday

Football season is over. I'm kind of sad about that. Anyone who knows me is scratching their heads trying to figure out why I'm sad about football being over. I'm the chick who drafts Joey Harrington first every year in Fantasy Football because he's from Oregon and I think he's cute. I also spend more time griping about white football pants (I mean really, seriously? White shiny pants on those gigantic sweaty men? Whose idea was THAT?) then watching the actual game. I'm not so much the football fan.

What I am a fan of, is Sunday nights. Most Sunday nights this season, we ended up at our next door neighbors house for dinner and the Sunday night game. We'd plan on Saturday, what we'd eat and they'd cook some and we'd cook some and then about 5pm we'd all tumble up the hill and into their house. The men would watch the game, the women would pretend to watch the game but really talk and the kids would be in the basement doing Lord only knows what. As long as there wasn't crying, it must be OK. (We call this full contact parenting... NOT!) We'd eat dinner while watching the game and we'd rewind the good stuff, what-his-name mooning the entire nation, and the announcers BAD fashion. And fast forward through the commercials. We discussed important things like if the TV needed a surround sound system and the virtues of ground turkey(there aren't any, it's a poor sub for actual ground beef- don't go there). It was really fun, relaxing, enjoyable. I liked it and liked football, a little.

But, now football is over. And, so are our Sunday nights for now. I like to think that maybe once baseball season starts, we might be able to work something out.

I'm Not "That Girl" Anymore

Today was kind of a sad day for me. It's been coming, this day. In fact, it's been coming for about 35 days now, and today, it arrived. On January 4, 2010, I purchased the most gorgeous purple kid skin ankle booties, complete with a metallic purple rose on the out side. They had a 1" platform and 4" spike heels. I loved them. I'd loved them in the Nordstrom fall catalog, I'd loved them in the stores, and I'd totally scored and found them at the Rack for like 65% off. I bought them and I brought them home and I was in love with these booties. They were so hot! They made my legs (and me) look awesome, so long and curvy-- I rocked in these shoes. But, I'm a stay-at-home mom of 2 elementary schoolers. Where the heck was I going to wear them? I told myself that I'd wear them whenever, didn't need a reason, I loved these shoes so why do I need a reason to wear them other than that? So, I'd get dressed and try them on, and even walk down the hall fully intending to wear them out of the house, and then I'd walk back to the closet and put on different, more sensible shoes to actually leave the house. There they sat, my loves. All alone in the closet, well, not all alone per se, they had lots of shoe friends to keep them company, but you know what I mean. Day after day they sat there, and I tried to make them work, I really, really did. There was the birthday dinner for my husband, could of worn them then, but it didn't seem right. Then there was the happy hour and movie with the girls, perfect right? No, not so much.

Finally, today, I was at the Rack again, looking for cute walking shoes for our upcoming trip to San Francisco. I'd announced that I was going to bring only one pair of shoes. Mike doesn't believe me. I don't really believe me either, but I am willing to try. While I was trying on pair after pair of cute, flat, good-arch support, walk- around- the- city shoes, it hit me. I am not the purple spike heeled bootie girl anymore. I want to be. I long to be. I used to be, but I'm not anymore. I'm more of a comfortable, attractive, ballet flat. I'm still a lot of fun and good to hang out with. I'm still attractive, just not in the spike-heeled boots, tiny mini skirt, red lipstick and nails sort of way. And, that's OK. Part of me is sad. I miss that girl. She was so fun! She could drink and smoke and dance and be fabulous until 2am and still get up and go to work at 5:30am the next day. She shopped a mean streak, and was making good money so she could have a shopping black belt. She was sassy and flirty and fearless. She was insecure and shy too, but she covered it up good. (Liquid courage I suppose.) She was awesome.

Part of me is relieved that I'm not "that girl" anymore. She was fun while she was around, but sooner or later, we all have to grow up. Now I'm the girl who loves watching her kids grow up, and makes Valentines, and cooks dinner 5 nights a week. I'm the one with a wonderful loving, attentive husband, who is a fantastic provider and is fun to hang out with 11 years in to this. I get to live in an amazing community and have great friends who I laugh and cry and complain and celebrate with. I'm still a little insecure and shy too, but, I'm working on it- un-assisted this time. I'm still awesome.

Anyway, I returned the boots today. I showed them to 2 of my neighbors before I took them back. Both of them said I should keep them. Even if I never wear them, I should keep them because I love them. But, I couldn't do that. I stood in line to return them and told the cashier I needed to return them to the wild so that they could go home with someone else who loves them like I did. Only, this time, I hope the person that loves them will wear them, and that when they wear them, they are fierce. Like the girl I was, and always will be. Just not in the purple boots. Because today I grew up a little. And, tomorrow, I'm wearing the green flats with the flower on the toe.

Five Grapes

Well, I wish this was going to be about how just five grapes can make fine wine... but it isn't. This, instead, is about my 6-year old and how our discussion about five grapes changed how I look at my life.

Does it drive you crazy when you take the time to pack a lunch that's diverse nutritionally- I can't believe that I actually typed that- and some or most of it comes home, or, better than that, gets eaten on the bus? It makes me a little nutty...

Three mornings ago, I was making lunches as D sat at the breakfast bar eating her bagel. I pack my kids lunches 4 out of 5 mornings and frankly, I'm not so inspired in the lunch department. So, I was organizing sandwiches, chips, trail mix, string cheese and grapes. Since she was there, and I didn't want lunch re-runs at 2:30p, I asked her "How many grapes do you want?" and she replied "Five." Ok. I cut off a tiny bunch, and there were six; so, I asked "Is six OK?" She responded "No, that's too many, I won't eat them." Me: "Eat them all or eat any?" Her: "Eat any. Too much." Hmm. Seriously? Five is OK but six is too much? Really? All right. Whatever. What did I do? I pulled off a grape and stuck it in her brothers lunch. And, D took five grapes to school. And ate them. Ate all her lunch. Score!

So, later in the day, I'm thinking about the "five grape" incident. And, I'm thinking about my coffee table, and my kitchen counters, and my office desk, and my craft table, and the bathrooms that needed to be cleaned, and the pantry that's messy, and... well, you know. It kind of all felt like six grapes. Too much. Instead of eating "six grapes", I was just going to shove the whole lot back in my lunch box and not do any of it. Then I called Amy. Because that's what I do. Thankfully, she still takes my calls. We talked about the "five grapes" and then my realization. We both agreed that it was thoughtful and insightful lunch packing advice. And, an interesting way to look at life in general.

We got off the phone, and I applied the "five grape" theory to my ever growing to-do list. I chose one thing, the kitchen counters. I cleared them off and then actually felt like doing another to-do. So, I did- the coffee table. And then I did another, the desk- and another- the bathroom counters. And, then I was done- not with everything, holy cats, not by a long shot, but I was done for then. I curled up with my book and read for a while; didn't feel guilty, didn't feel like I was sneaking around. It was nice. And weird, but mostly nice. Calmer. More peaceful. Productive.

What I learned is to focus on what you can "eat", if the task is too big to be tackled all at once, don't just shove it back into the lunch box, break it down into five grape bunches, and then eat each bunch grape by grape, lunch by lunch. It's better, not so overwhelming, so discouraging, so much. Smaller bits and bites, and you get to be successful, and being successful leads to being more and more successful, and not having to bring your lunch home with you every day. You get to finish it and pack new things for tomorrow's lunch.

She's only 6, but sometimes she's smarter than the rest of us. Now, we adults need to figure out what WE want in our lunches.