Positively Happy for You!

I have noticed a common theme among people lately, negativity and narcissism. At what point did our society decide that this is acceptable?

This new attitude of negativity is not cool. Why does one choose jealousy and negativity? How does this benefit you? It makes you hard and cold.

Our life is a list of choices. We do not choose depression but we do choose how we handle the depression.

There is always someone that has more or less than you. Lets just learn to be content.

There is a rapper named TI and Rihanna that has a song out called, "Live Your Life". The words say so much.

You're gonna be a shining star, with fancy clothes, and fancy car-ars.
And then you'll see, you're gonna go far.
Cause everyone knows, just who you are-are.
So live your life, ay ay ay.
You Steady Chasin that paper.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
Ain't got no time for no haters
Just live your life (Ay! ), ay ay ay.
No telling where it'll take ya.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
Cause I'm a paper chaser.
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just living my life

(T.I.):
Never mind what haters say, ignore them 'til they fade away.
Amazing they ungrateful after all the game I gave away.
Safe to say I paved the way, for you cats to get paid today.
You still be wasting days away now had I never saved the day.
Consider them my protégé, homage I think they should pay.
Instead of being gracious, they violate in a major way.
I never been a hater still I love them, in a crazy way.
Some say they so yay and no they couldn't get work on Labor day.
It aint that they black or white, their hands a area the shade of grey.
I'm West side anyway, even if I left the day it stayed away.
Some move away to make a way not move away cause they afraid.
I'll go back to the hood and all you ever did was take away.
I pray for patience but they make me want to melt they face away.
Like I once made them scream, now I could make them plead their case away.
Been thuggin' all my life, can't say I don't deserve to take a break.
You'd rather see me catch a case, and watch my future fade away.

(Rihanna):
You're gonna be a shining star, with fancy clothes, and fancy car-ars.
And then you'll see, you're gonna go far.
Cause everyone knows, just who you are-are.
So live your life, ay ay ay.
Instead of chasing that paper.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
You got no time for no haters
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
No telling where it'll take ya.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
Cause I'm a paper chaser.
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just Livin My Life.

(T.I.):
I'm the opposite of moderate, immaculately polished with the spirit of a hustler and the swagger of a college kid.
Allergic to the counterfeit, impartial to the politics.
Articulate but still would grab a nigga by the collar quick.
Whoever havin problems, with they record sale just holla TIP.
If that don't work and all else fails, then turn around and follow TIP.
I got love for the game but ay I'm not in love with all of it.
I do without the fame and the rappers nowadays are comedy.
The hootin' and the hollerin', back and forth with the arguing.
Where you from, who you know, what you make and what kind of car you in.
Seems as though you lost sight of what's important with the positive.
And checks until your bank account, and you're about poverted.
Your values is a disarrayed, prioritizing horribly.
Unhappy with the riches cause you miss-poor morally.
Ignoring all prior advice and fore warning.
And we mighty full of ourselves all of a sudden aren't we?

(Rihanna):
You're gonna be a shining star, with fancy clothes, and fancy car-ars.
And then you'll see, you're gonna go far.
Cause everyone knows, just who you are-are.
So live your life, ay ay ay.
Instead of chasing that paper.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
You got no time for no haters
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
No telling where it'll take ya.
Just live your life (Oh! ), ay ay ay.
Cause I'm a paper chaser.
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)
Just living my life (ay), my life (oh), my life (ay), my life (oh)

[Rihanna]
Now everybody watchin what I do
Come walk in my shoes
And see the way that I'm livin if you really want to
I got my mind on my money and I'm not goin nowhere
So keep on gettin yo paper(ah ah)
And keep on climbin
Look in the mirror
And keep on shinin
Til the game end
Til the clock stop
We gon' post up on the top spot
Livin' the life, the life

In the brand new city
Got my whole team with me
Livin my life, my life
I do it how I wanna do
I'm livin' my life, my life
I will never loose 'em
Livin my life, my life
And I'm not stoppin

So live your life.

Parenthood is War

Yes, war.

Of course, I say this with all the love and respect that the role entails- but in the end, it is truly a battle: Us against them (and there are times that I am not sure there is even an US!) They always are working together, plotting… always plotting…

Now, I happen to have some rather good children. Despite the genetic materials that we were working with- they seem to be alright. People complement me all the time about their behavior and manners. This makes me feel better- one little battle won by me.

I’d say my daughter was the leader- but up until this point in time, that was because she was the eldest child. Now that my middle son is getting to an age where he can formulate his own plans and purposely enact his own chaos… the line is rather blurry. And the baby! He’s a rogue child, working with either side in order to create as much trouble as possible.

All of this is my husband’s fault of course. His stubborn and intelligent DNA made up the entirety of his chromosomal contribution. This is why I often find myself laughing at his dumbfoundedness at our children’s actions. Why is he confused- that is him in a nutshell! Of all the people that should expect it to happen, for goodness sake- he’d do the same thing! Except for the look… all of them have it. That came from me. My daughter does it best, but don’t all girls? It really conveys their desire for you to spontaneously combust, right there before their eyes.

What they don’t realize is my love. I really do love them and that is why I shall win the war of parenthood. They will grow up and move out. They will go forth into the world as well mannered, thoughtful adults that care about the world around them. They will succeed at whatever it is they desire- because… I SAID SO! Oh, and because I love them enough to be strong, cruel, gentle and supportive- no matter the situation. I have plans of my own, you know…

Aqua Net and Laundry

In my quest to improve myself as a Mom and a wife, I have found that I seem to unerringly revert back to those old habits - the ones I'm trying to replace with new and better habits.

For example, I hate laundry with a fervid passion. I hate every aspect of it - from the hamper, to the sorting, to the loading, to the flipping of loads - all of it - most especially the folding and putting away.

*shudder*

The only part that I have ever remotely enjoyed is taking warm, clean laundry out of the dryer, shoving my face into it and smelling the aroma of fabric softener. I've ruined that little joy for myself, however. I went and found out about the chemicals included in that neat little laundry additive and how they are an environmental evil that I can easily alleviate by not using fabric softener. So now, any hope that I ever had of being that MomWife who dutifully attends to the the laundering as soon as there is enough soiled clothing to justify a load was vaporized when Downy became an environmental no-no.

When we moved from Arizona to Colorado this last Spring, I decided to turn over a new leaf in my housekeeping habits. Instead of waiting until the dirty laundry could almost literally march itself to the washing machine, I promised myself that I would set aside two days per week to do laundry. After all, I'm now a Stay-at-Home Mom. That yearned-for acronym that is laden with images of ruffled aprons, perfectly prepared pot roasts, and Aqua Net. Two days per week of laundry really shouldn't be THAT hard... right?

Well, it wasn't too hard at first. For the first three months after we moved into the house, I was suffused with that New Home Nesting feeling. My imaginary ruffled apron was in place, dinner was perfectly prepared every night, and the toilets were all swished once daily. Dirty laundry never sat in a hamper for more than 24 hours, and I even began to enjoy the vinegar/essential oil combination that replaced Downy. Once all the boxes were unpacked and I could really see what that kind of uber-organization and attention to detail produces, I was proud of myself. After all, it really IS much easier to clean things when you have good cleaning habits to begin with. Doing things like stripping all the beds in order to hang the blankets outside - airing them out, I think my Great Grandmother would have called it - wasn't that big of a deal. Taking a half hour to wipe down the floor boards wasn't a big deal because I had already swept, mopped and vacuumed all the floors according to my Cleaver-like schedule. Taking half of an afternoon to bake homemade bread was fun, because I didn't have to wade through the kitchen to find the counter tops, much less all of the ingredients and tools necessary. In a nutshell, I was wallowing and reveling in my June Cleaver-ness!

Fast-forward to today.

I am seriously debating loading all the dirty laundry up and going to a laundromat. I don't know what the hell happened to my cleaning schedule, my un-dusty floorboards and the homemade bread. Once I ran out of essential oil, the thought of adding plain ol' vinegar to the laundry lost its "green" appeal. My blankets haven't been "aired out", nor my floorboards dusted, nor the bread baked since I hung up my ruffled apron, so to speak. I don't even know when that was, exactly. It sort of happened gradually. I thought I was still doing a good job at this cleaning thing, when all of a sudden, I took a good look around and - nope.

Don't get me wrong, the house is certainly not a pig sty, and it is much more organized and clean than I have ever kept a home - but my original Betty Crocker dreams of a spotless home have dissolved. The Aqua Net haze has cleared out of my post-feminist era brain and I have returned to reality.

Reality.

Where laundry does pile up and even occasionally has to be hauled to a laundromat despite the presence of a working washer and dryer at home. Where dishes, too, pile up, and the left over experiment of a casserole from last night never made it into the fridge, so the cats helped themselves to the layer of cheese I piled on top of it to mask the horrendous combination of spices used therein. The kids' bathroom is allowed to get not-quite hazardous at times. I almost needed a jackhammer to remove the toothpaste from the sink this morning!

Yeah, THAT reality.

I'm trying really hard to not beat myself up over it. I'm trying to convince myself that it's perfectly normal for the household chores to get out-of-hand on occasion. I'm still gun-shy that it will get as bad as it did in Arizona. I find some solace in the fact that underneath the thin layer of mess, there is a real sense of organization that I've never had before. I can thank Aqua Net, Betty Crocker, and my imaginary ruffled apron for that.

Somehow, the braless child of a hippie inside of me, and the coiffed perfectionist also inside me, will meet somewhere in the middle rather than constantly cat-fighting. There is one thing that both extremes of my personality can and do agree on - the chores will always be there, but the kids are growing up fast - so, take every opportunity to cuddle and hug and tickle and kiss and more than anything - love. Those opportunities are gone in the wink of an eye. While June Cleaver was mending Ward's socks, Wally and The Beav grew up and moved out.

Not me. So, on that note, I'm going to ignore the buzzing of the dryer for a few more moments and go tickle my boys until they beg me to stop. Then, I'll kiss their sweaty little foreheads and hug them.

I'll catch up with you later, June.