Struggling

I'm struggling today with my slice.

I can't think of a topic that feels worthy of writing about.  My brain is in so many places, and I can't seem to concentrate on any one thing for any length of time.  I feel jittery and out of place and out of sorts.

I have so many things on my to-do list that I don't know where to start.  I'm mired in the "I have to"s that I'm stuck in "I don't want to."  I know that ultimately I just have to suck it up and pick ONE THING to start AND finish, and I'll get out of this rut.  I know that sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do or don't like to do.

But tonight.... tonight I'll read the article I need to be able to discuss at tomorrow's PD meeting, I'll have some mint chocolate chip ice cream, and then I'll head into bed to lose myself in The Madman's Daughter, my current read (which is fascinating, by the way).  Hopefully, I'll get a good night's sleep and be in a better mind set in the morning.

After all, as Scarlett O'Hara once said, "Tomorrow is another day!"

Good intentions

This morning I got up at 5 with my alarm and put on my workout clothes and tennis shoes.  I was ready to head to the Y for a half-hour of brisk walking on the treadmill.  After the ridiculously cold winter, I'm eager to get back into my workout routine.  I feel better when I start my day with a walk, even if it is at the Y instead of outside.

Then I walked out my front door.  My van had about a half-inch of snow covering it.

NBD, right?  What's a half-inch of snow after the 80 or so inches I've already brushed off of it this winter.

What I didn't realize until I went to put my key in the lock was that under that snow was a thick layer of ice.  I shouldn't be surprised, since this was my view during mom taxi duty last night:

Again... no big deal.

Except I have NO IDEA where my broken-by-winter ice scraper is, and it would take a the defroster a good 10 minutes to melt that ice off the windshield.  I did sit in the car for a while, hoping that if I ran my windshield wipers AND my defroster, I'd get to the Y and my walk. But then I looked to my right and saw that my side window was also covered in ice.  No way the defroster would melt that any time soon.

So instead, I walked the dog (can't find my hat or gloves, of course), emptied the dishwasher, and decided to write today's slice early.  I managed to make this time productive.

But I do have a message for Mother Nature.  I'm OVER this cruddy winter!  She can keep this springtime snow.  I want tulips and daffodils and warm breezes that tempt me to be outside, not this icky, wet, freezing mess.

And no.... I do NOT want to build a snowman!

Walking in Sunshine

Today was one of those days that was booked wall to wall.  I started the day in my own building, facilitating a PD session with one of the teacher teams.  I finished the day at one of the elementary buildings after spending the afternoon on my own learning.

In between, I got to take a walk.

My afternoon meeting was in the elementary school nearest the Junior High.  It's about three blocks away, and in the winter or on rainy days I DO drive there, even though I know it's kind of ridiculous to do so.

Today, though, was sunny and fairly warm, and there was NO WAY I was going to pass up the opportunity to walk those three blocks and soak up some sunshine.  This winter has been tough, and the sun hasn't been very forthcoming yet this spring.  I need some vitamin D, people!

At 3:35, I joined the littles in the crosswalk, said hello to the crossing guard, and smiled my way back to the Junior High.  Just being out in the fresh air, by myself, with some time to think in the bright sunlight was the perfect way to end my day.

Hopefully, I'll get to see the sun again tomorrow.

"I want my mom to be happy." - Food for Thought.

Yesterday, my sister-in-law shared this blog post with me.  Go read it.... I'll wait.

It hit me in the gut.  It summed up so much of where I am in my life right now.  This... this paragraph:

"Holy crap, you guys. We’ve got to get our joy back. We think it’s love to allow our roles –mother, wife, volunteer, career woman – to consume us like a fire until we can’t even be seen anymore – but that’s not love. I think our kids want to really see us. They want us to leave a part of ourselves unconsumed so they can see us. I think our kids want to see us come alive sometimes. Our kids never asked for martyrs.  It is not love to allow yourself – your spirit – to be buried and then fade away."

This is me, people.  I've let all of these roles I play every single day take over every fiber of my being.  I'm constantly thinking about who I need to take care of, who I need to please, always doing THE RIGHT THING FOR EVERYBODY BUT ME.  

When the girls were younger, Danny and I each had one night of the week that was ours.  He took writing classes at Second City.  I took classes of various sorts - knitting, hula, tap dancing.  It was fun, and it gave me an outlet, something to do that was just mine.  But as the girls got older and our lives got busier, those things, too, seemed to disappear.  

The problem, though, is that it's a bit of a vicious circle, isn't?  I'm so busy doing things for others that I'm too tired to do things for myself, so I don't do the things to take care of either my physical or mental well-being.  I figure if I can make everyone else happy, then I'll be happy, too, right?  It doesn't work that way, though.  What I'm really doing is not making anybody truly happy.

So I read things like this Momastery post, and I know that I am not alone in feeling weighed down by the expectations and stresses that I PLACE ON MYSELF.... I know the things I take on and that pressure to be perfect is not coming from an external place; I can choose to ignore the perfect party Pinterest pins and the picture perfect version of motherhood that is projected through various media sources.  

I can find those things that feed my soul, those things that have fallen by the wayside over the past few years.  I can reconnect with friends who I've not been a very good friend to lately. 

I can find my joy.

I will find my joy again.  

So thank you, Kris, for sending this my way on a day when I desperately needed it.  Keep 'em coming!