Hello, 2010 - can I have a do-over?

Yeah. Day ONE of the new year, and I'm already asking for a do-over.

It's a fair request, right? I mean, come on, you KNOW that when you play a game and mess up right off the bat you start over! Right? RIGHT?!?!

So, I want my do-over.

It wasn't a completely wasted day.

I started my new exercise/weight loss shindig today. That's a positive!

We moved in the extra dressers from the garage, I finished most of the dishes, we cleaned up a lot of the clothes that have been piling up because of the absence of the aforementioned dressers. All positives!

OK, so I was a little unnecessarily sharp with the kids today. Not often, but a little bit more than I needed to be. I'll take the negative on that one.

The husband. Yeah, that was a negative...

Mathematically speaking, I guess that's a wash. Two positives to two negatives...I'm still at square one. That would work if the weight loss and cleaning carried as much weight as my relationship with my kids and my husband.

Close, but not so much.

Thus why I need that stinkin' do-over!!

Come on, please, PLEASE, Mother Nature, Father Time, the New Year's baby, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, I don't care...somebody? Anybody? Please?

No?

Crap.

Those Mid-Winter Blues

It's actually a little early for the blues to hit me. Historically, it happens about mid-January. It's often baffled me how the magical holiday season inspires me and fills me with such joy and love, how I wait with baited breath at the window for the first sign of snowflakes falling....and then all of two minutes later I'm angry and cranky and I've got no good reason for any of it.

This has been the story of my life since as far back as I can remember. I have heard from many people that they go through something like this in the middle of the winter. It's just substantiated itself as I've gotten older and have more obligations and commitments and screaming children who need my attention.

Okay, they aren't screaming, for the most part, but Mommy could really use just a minute to herself every once in awhile...

It's a funk. I can't help it. I've yet to figure out a way to push myself out of it. I'm trying to focus on the new year, setting new goals, starting over, blah blah blahhhh.

I'm on edge, that's for sure.

Oh, life.

We are settling in to our new home. Boxes have been unpacked or shuffled to the basement for sorting later. Shelves have been constructed, furniture placed, beds put together and rearranged several times. Toy placement has been played with, resorted, moved around. The dishes pile up. We clean them. They reappear. The laundry is constantly washed, seldom put away, as we are still figuring out where clean laundry should reside.

It's starting to feel like home.

I'm beginning to smile again at the little things I had taken for granted.

The little pets lined up in neat rows on the floor, sorted by animal type.

The eight or so balls underneath the couch, where they had rolled out of reach of little fingers.

The letter and number magnets that cover the refrigerator, holding up school and homemade art projects.

The coat rack that holds each of their little coats, next to my husband's.

They make me smile endlessly and always. Despite any issues that may arise in our day to day life, seeing their smiling little faces, having them reach their hand out for mine, hearing that sweet, "Mama!" (or "MOM!" depending on the mood of the Princess) - these are the things that make my day to day life so infinitely wonderful.

I try and remember these things while they are pushing and screaming and making me want to tear my hair out. I remind myself that these moments will only last for a short while, and soon they will be past this stage. Then I remember that this really will only last a short while - and I should slow down and enjoy every second I can.

Midnight Conversations

Princess wanders out of her room after being asleep for several hours and asks me to come and tuck her in. I, of course, oblige, and as I'm leaving her room, the following conversation takes place, while her eyes are closed:

Princess: Mommy, can you move the crayons for me?

Me: *chuckle* Sure, baby, I'll move them.

Princess: Mommy, I know it's really in my imagination, so it's okay if you don't move them.

Smart cookie, she is! I then go to the kitchen and pop some popcorn (don't judge me!). About 20 minutes later, out she comes:

Princess: Mama, my pillow smells like popcorn!

Then she turns and proceeds back into her room with her smelly pillow, and I return to my delicious popcorn.

There's light at the end of the tunnel!

Color me introspective tonight! I see potential, I feel it, I'm feeling myself finally getting back on the proverbial path. It's a wonderful feeling. Having faith and hope that things will work out, and then acting on that faith and hope, actually gets you somewhere! Who knew, right? It feels good.

We've finally found ourselves in a new home, and after some new furniture, some rearranging (and more rearranging), and some unpacking, it's really starting to feel like home. The kids are getting on a schedule, which is a plus. I'm working on my own schedule so I can work more productively from home. It's there - right within our reach! We can do this!

I'm overflowing with excitement at the possibilities that lie ahead of us. I haven't been able to sleep yet tonight because I'm planning and plotting!

Life is good.

Tears.

I keep looking at incredibly sad blogs today, and the tears just keep on coming. It breaks my heart. I feel so much sadness and pain for families I've never met. In turn, I'm so utterly grateful for my own family, but so scared knowing how that could all be lost in mere seconds.

How do people live knowing that their entire world could change so quickly? I guess we don't think about it. If we were to dwell on the possibilities, we'd miss the here and now. So I'm hugging my babies a little tighter today, reminding them how much I love them and how awesome they are. Reminding my husband that I'm so in love with him and so grateful for our life together. Sending my love to all of my family and friends here and elsewhere.

I'm wiping away these tears and going to enjoy my wonderful here and now.

The Corner.

I grew up in a great neighborhood in Detroit. We were the last few blocks before leaving the city. We knew the neighbors well and they knew us. Kids played in the yard and in the street, and everybody looked out for them. We moved there when I was around one, sometime before my twin brothers were born. We lived there until just a few months before I started high school when we moved to a neighboring city.

One of my favorite memories was waiting for my dad after work.

My dad worked for the Board of Education in a nearby high school. He worked during the day, so he'd get off work around 3:00pm and it only took him minutes to get home. He took the same route home everyday - driving through the park and turning left on to our street.

Everyday during the summer, at just after 3:00pm, my brothers and I would grab our bikes (or sometimes just walk) down to the corner to wait for him. Everyday we would sit there, waiting as patiently as children can, our eyes fixed on the park, waiting for the first glimpse of his car. As he drove closer, we'd all get in ready position and as soon as he'd make the turn on our street, we were off!! Everyday we would race dad home.

There were days that my brothers didn't want to go with me to the corner. I'd go alone, and wait for my dad. Sometimes he'd beat me home, sometimes he'd let me win. He mostly let me win.

I can still picture his face as he rounded the corner, always smiling at us. I can still feel the excitement of the race. It was a big deal.

It's been over 12 years since we moved away from that house. So much has changed. My parents are no longer married. My dad is remarried. I haven't seen my dad in over a year. We've been home for almost three months and I have not seen him. Somehow we've gotten to this place where we don't communicate. Not just me, but he doesn't communicate with any of his children the way he used to.

I still get excited, just a bit, when I see he calls or when he texts, as rarely as it happens. I feel like that little girl standing on the corner, just waiting for a glimpse of her daddy. I wait a lot more these days than I did when I was little, but I still wait. I know he'll come, eventually.

I drive by our old house sometimes. It's my happy place, I guess. We were happy there. I drive past that corner and smile, remembering.

My dad still works at the same school he worked at 12 years a go. I sometimes wonder if he drives past our old house, where we were happy, and think about us. I wonder if he drives past that corner and smiles, remembering.

I hold on to the hope that he does.