peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

My daughter learned three life lessons this week.

And I was reminded that I often blurt things out without consulting The Proper Parenting Handbook.

Here’s what happened.

My daughter came home upset that she wasn’t invited to her friend’s upcoming birthday party.

• “What?!” I shrieked. “But you guys play all the time!”
• “Yeah,” she said sadly. “She just didn’t want to invite ME.”
• “What a little bitch!” I said.

Lesson one: Ten-year-old girls can be bitches too.

Another day after school, my daughter came home even more upset that her puka shell necklace–her prized $3 purchase from our trip to Hawaii–broke into 200 puka shell pieces. She was planning to wear it all year, to remember our wonderful family vacation. A boy had grabbed her necklace from her neck (!), sending puka shells scattering.

• “What an asshole!” I exclaimed. “Let’s get him to apologize.” That seemed to make her feel better.

Lesson two: Calling someone an asshole for asshole behavior automatically makes you feel better.

• And I offered, “Oh, Sweetie, I know that was special to you. I could buy you another one but it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”
• “No,” she lamented. “That was my special necklace.”

Lesson three: Some valuable things can’t be replaced, because the value is in the memories.

I may not say all the right things. I may say some very wrong things. But I always try to talk things out with my daughter. Even if an obscenity pops out from time to time.

I’m kinda sick of my negative body image issues.

“But, Pippi! You’ve had three children! Each baby stretched out your belly, like three feet!”

Truth. Reality.

It seems that I am running high on negative body issues and low on self-confidence. It concerns me that my less-than-robust self-confidence will mess with my ability to be a strong role model for my children. How can they grow to be self-confident if I don’t exude self-confidence?

“But, Pippi! You’re always so positive and so happy and so loving! You are a great Mom! Your kids adore you! Your husband loves you! You are surrounded by family and friends who think you’re awesome! You have a great job! And, man, what curly hair!”

Truth. Reality. I am so blessed. What am I even complaining about?

“But, Pippi, happiness is about inner beauty and needs to come from within! And not something you seek outside yourself! You know this!”

I do know this. I am my own hurdle. This. Has. Got. To. Change. I need to change this.

I read an article that brought clarity to my jumbled thoughts. It’s about finding happiness within. Gilbert Ross, the author of the How to Find Happiness, is trying to encourage people to break the negative pattern “I will be happy if…” If I lose 20 lbs…If I get a raise…Whatever the if is, it’s always something. This leaves us feeling empty and sad because we are never gonna be happy until we surpass the next hurdle. And there are always more hurdles. (I know this. I ran track and hurdles back in high school.)

As a first step, I am connecting with these negative feelings and am working to transform them. It is high time that I make peace with myself.

After all, I’m clever. I have a winning smile and personality. Golly, people like me! I have so much to be positive about and thankful for in my life.

So that I can continue to be a glass half-full person, I need to also fill my glass with self-love and self-confidence. One drip at a time.

This is something we all deserve. Fill ‘er up.

While at the hair salon getting my hair trimmed, highlighted, and glossed, I felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. You know the part, where she goes to the land of Oz the second time, and gets primped and fluffed?

Except my hair actually looked more like the lion. When the hairdresser combed it out, pulling out the curls, I was looking sorta crazy.

I admit, it’s always a little uncomfortable for me to be in the limelight. Either I make conversation or I stare into the mirror. But I sorta get sick of staring at myself. I tend to over-examine. How I applied my lipstick in a hurry and notice that it is askew. How my eyebrows need a little shaping. How I’m looking a little tired.

It’s always something.

But she doesn’t call attention to my imperfections. She sees plenty, I’m sure.

It’s the one hour and a half where I can just sit. And be taken care of. “Would you like some tea?”

When the hairdresser washes my hair, it’s my favorite part. It’s just not the same when I do it myself. I lather and scrub. Always racing the clock. Leaving the conditioner in while shaving. Always multitasking.

But the hairdresser? She takes her time. She massages. She uses plenty of hot water. This time around, I was so relaxed that I even dozed off for a few minutes!

After I was pampered and relaxed, instead of Dorothy, I was the woman in those stupid Calgon commercials. Remember those?

“The traffic. The boss. The baby. The dog…Calgon, take me away!”

This woman is losing it! Then cut to her in her tub of bubbles, oohing and aahing, relaxed and carefree.

That was me, but in the salon chair…Aveda, take me away!

I’m hanging out with other cool bloggers at Yeah Write this week. Check them out by clicking the badge below!

I started running jogging again. OK, let’s call it what it really is. Clomping.

You know, graceful like a Clydesdale? Clomp. Clomp. You could hear me coming a mile away.

I used to run. A lot. Like, obsessively. When I was in college, I’d log in between 50-75 miles a week. If I didn’t get “enough” miles in by Saturday, I’d run an extra five miles that night. Yeah, running alone at 11:00 p.m. That was safe. Then double those miles on Sunday, to make my quota.

But that was a long time ago.

I have tried running since. When my youngest two children were a toddler and an infant. First, I strapped them into a jogging stroller made for one. Then I strapped my boobs into two jog bras (because breast feeding breasts are quite unwieldy).

And we would all ramble down the graveled road like a rickshaw.

You can imagine why this activity was soon replaced with a stationary bike, then later an elliptical machine. It’s just too dang hard to run with children. What with the bundling, strapping, packing Goldfish-crackers-and-apple-juice snacks, soothing the crying newborn, you kinda forget that you’re supposed to be exercising. This was supposed to be MY time.

Several years later, I find myself wanting to run again. I have a lot of friends who run. They are pretty bad ass–and run marathons regularly. They inspire me to go running jogging. By myself. With no kids in tow.

To hear the quiet. To feel the fresh air. To sweat.

To clomp.

My grandmother had a needlepoint hanging in her living room that was stitched, “Take care of the minutes and the hours will take care of themselves.” As a kid, I didn’t know what the hell that meant. Now I do.

It’s about being in the present. And making your time count.

With busy, overscheduled schedules, you’ve heard the phrase “it only takes two minutes.” And “there aren’t enough minutes in the day.” This refers to things such as:

• flossing
• hugging your children
• doing stomach crunches
• filling up your aluminum water bottle
• sitting with your children and asking about their day
• checking in with your family on Facebook
• reading a book to your child
• calling to schedule your mammogram
• tweezing your eyebrows
• making a sandwich for your child’s lunch
• doing 50 push ups
• writing an email to your mother
• folding half a load of laundry
• putting on sunscreen
• connecting with 10 Tweeps
• scrubbing out the toilet
• feeding the goldfish
• shaving yur legs
• petting the dog
• writing a thank you note to your kids’ teacher
• putting on mascara and lipstick
• making a big batch of tuna for sandwiches the next day
• sweeping the kitchen floor
• setting the family dinner table
• running a vacuum across the living room
• filling up the bird feeder
• thawing the frozen chicken for dinner
• emailing the latest kid’s photo to their grandparents
• writing a nice comment on a blog post
• taking inventory of all the things you are thankful for
• IMing your husband some sweet words
• watering the plants above your kitchen sink
• laying out coats, backpacks, and shoes the night before
• making a protein smoothie
• sitting quietly and just breathing

That’s all fine and good. But when you add two minutes here and two minutes there, that’s a lot of minutes. No wonder we often feel overwhelmed.

The point is, you can’t DO everything. You need to pick and choose. Maybe, today is the day you pick and choose a few of the “want tos” rather than the “have tos.” Take some time for yourself. Take some time for your loved ones. Isn’t that more important than cleaning the stupid floor?

And maybe, you’ll find that that time is time well spent.

When was the last time you were home alone? And didn’t do work (work work, housework, work out)?

Just some “me” time?

I had a few hours–home alone–one evening this week. No children. No husband.

Here is what I did:

• Read the April issue of Martha Stewart Living cover to cover.
• Watched My Week With Marilyn.
• Painted my nails purple.
• Had a nice call with my mother.
• Tried on some new outfits.
• Even dozed off for a bit.

In one word: Bliss.

While sitting on my six-hour flight from New York back home, I am reminded that I don’t have much idle time in my busy life. Do you?

You know. The time you take to read, or play Tap the Frog on your iPhone, or sit and stare out the window and think, or take a nap. And maybe while napping, you drool a teensy bit.

On an airplane, you’re forced to relax and just be.

The flight attendant recommends that adults first use oxygen on themselves THEN help their children. Isn’t that a metaphor for a busy family?

We parents need to take time for ourselves. Whether it’s reading or staring out the window or napping-and-drooling.

Take the time. Aren’t you worth some breaths?

How many ways can you slice a pie? I mean, a METAPHORICAL pie, Silly.

You know those pie charts in business? Where you use percentages to represent how you’re allocating your time and resources?

Well, the same can be applied to your life. How do you spend your day? How much time and resources to you give to your children? Your work? Your spouse? Your exercise? Your adult responsibilities? Your free time?

Yeah. Free time. It’s probably the teensiest slice of pie in your pie chart.

Hey you! Don’t give away all of your pie slices and be left with onlycrumbs.

Crumbs suck.

If your brows are looking a little bushy. And your upper lip is looking a little moustache-y. You might be rocking the Lorax look.

And if you live in Lorax land, you’ll fit right in. By I live in the Land of Milk and Honey. And we don’t let our women look Lorax-y.

So it might be time to waxy your Lorax-y.

Pippi visited the scary wax lady today. Scary because ya don’t really want to come out looking like Tammy Faye. But when they greeted me like Grandmother greeted the wolf, with “My what bushy eyebrows you have,” I knew I was in for a waxalicious treat.

She used so much wax, I thought it was it was Hanukkah.

Happy 2012! Got new year’s resolutions? Blah.

1. Lose weight.
2. Exercise.
3. Rid your vices (whatever they may be: smoking, drinking, carb-overloading)

And then, by January 13, all resolutions are broken.

A year ago, I remember vividly resolving in 2011: “Don’t take things so seriously.”

Guess what? Mission accomplished! I…

• Have laughed so much, I now have a few more lines around the eyes as permanent proof (yikes, more eye cream please)
• Enjoyed lots of “special little moments” with my family: movie nights, dancing, baking, goofing, camping, talking, playing, reading, hanging. As a result, I now have 3 GB of photos of awesome family memories from 2011.
• Stopped worrying about work on Sunday nights…I realized that Monday will come soon enough
• Started up my PeskyPippi.com blog and Twitter account (and whatd’ya know…I found my voice…and a ton of new friends while doing so)
• Reengaged with my soccer peeps

May 2012 bring more of the same!

Whatever your path/road/freeway, may you enjoy the stroll/run/ride.