The Butterfly and the Bear

Hey Sister, Soul Sister

Sisters are such a remarkable thing.  They are very different from friends, friends we may at times have to explain ourselves to.   Sisters know our history, they shared it.  Very little explanation is needed, even if they don’t necessarily share our hang-ups, they understand where they came from and why we have them.  What I find so extraordinary about my sisters and myself is that we can all at once be so similar and yet so completely different.  I am blessed that as adults, my sisters and I are all very close, they are my four closest friends.  It wasn’t always so, as children we had our issues and of course when my mother once said to me, “One day you will be best friends.”  I thought she was out of her mind.  And while we may not always see eye to eye and we may differ in many ways, my sisters are a huge part of my adult life.  So much so that when I am unable to make plans with my dear friend Bunny due to a previous engagement she will often say, “Let me guess, it is one of the sisters birthday’s??” 

My sister Robin and I never really had a traditional sister relationship, we rarely bickered, there was never any competition, perhaps that's because Robin was five years older and she set the tone from a very young age.  She always looked out for me and babied me.  When I was young I would sneak up to Robin’s room at night and would play doll house until way past my bedtime.  Her room was paradise.  It was all light pink and rose, she had beautiful wood furniture and a brass head board and a huge doll house.  She also would vacuum and dust it on an almost daily basis so it was immaculate.  She was 10 by the way.  It was one of my favorite places in the world. Her doll house “family” were these miserable looking uptight victorian figurines, we used to make them yell and curse at each other. (I’m sure a psychologist could have a field day with that bit of information.) To this day I smile when I picture Robin making the prim and proper “mom” yell, “Fuck this shit fuckers!” while she slid down the banister of the doll house stairs.  Sometimes Robin would be so hilarious I would laugh a little too hard for my five year old bladder and wet her carpet.  I would dissolve into frantic giggles and she’d say, “Mandy DO NOT WET MY CARPET!”  and then I’d abruptly stop giggling.  “Sorry Robin.” For someone who kept their room immaculate she never really got angry at me, instead she’d get some club soda and clean it up.  I’m serious, she was 10.  

Despite the fact that I was a shy and sometimes meek child, Robin always taught me to stand up for myself, because she liked having me around I was confident in our friendship regardless of our 5 year age difference.  I remember one time Robin left the room and her psycho little friend turned to me and said, “Why do you follow Robin around?  We don’t want you here!”  to which I replied honestly, “Yes she does, she loves me!  And when you go home we make fun of you and laugh at you!”  That shut her up.  And I believed it, I never felt like she didn’t have room for me in her life or that my presence was an annoyance. I was confident that she didn't just tolerate her little sister shadowing her, but that she actually liked having me around.  When I had a huge interview and was freaking out because I had no real “interview” clothes, it was Robin who gave me the money to buy a proper suit. Lest anyone reading this should think my other sisters don't play as important a role in my life, know that all my sisters have been there for me throughout my life and continue to be.  When I was going through a hard time my sophomore year of college my sister Shelia drove the three hours to take me out to dinner and cheer me up.  When I lived in London and was as poor as a church mouse it was my sister Claire who sent me a check and a note telling me to take care of myself and eat well.  Even though she is seven years younger than me my sister Jamie has always looked out for me and listened to me when I cried over some heartbreak or upset in my life.  I am so blessed to be able to go through life knowing that no matter what happens, no matter what life throws my way I have a support system in place.  

 Perhaps because I grew up with sisters I always forged strong relationship with my female friends, and I am blessed to have accumulated several more “sisters” over the years.  Whenever I meet a woman who either doesn’t trust women or who says she doesn’t have any female friends I feel disheartened for them.  For me my “sisters” have carried me through some of my most difficult times, applauded me when I have had success, and laughed with me through it all.  I always love hearing stories about sisters, I adore movies that examine the sister relationship and bond such as Sense and Sensibility and LIttle Women, and I am always annoyed when I feel like sisters are portrayed in an implausible manner, either in books or movies.  I went to college with the Packuska sisters, Katie and Lynn (of the candy corn fame) and I loved how they nurtured and supported one another, there was no competition between them even though they were in the same college and so close in age.  For me when I have good news the first people I want to call are my sisters, when something has upset me or I’m feeling scared the first call I make, again, is to one of my sisters.  And while they are there always cheering me on and building me up, try being pretentious or foolish in front of your sister, she will be the first person to call you out.  Sisters are natural equalizers, they won't let you look stupid, but if you do they will inevitably tease you for it.  They keep you humble and remind you that while they think you're amazing, you shouldn't let it go to your head.  With sisters you don't have to be polite and exchange niceties, you can immediately slip into the comfortable and familiar. I’m not yet married but I know that the man I settle down with will have to be comfortable with the fact that I am kind of a package deal, you love me, you love my sisters (and you are ok with them being around. A lot.)  It’s like I have a built in gang.  And trust me, you don’t want to mess with a woman and her sisters, they will take you down!   In writing my list so many people have come out and supported and encouraged me, so today I want to thank all my sisters, blood and otherwise for being part of my gang and always having my back. 

Goodbye Old "Friend"

Over the weekend I was reading a blog written by a friend of mine from college and she mentioned she is feeling slightly panicked because she is turning 35 in a few weeks.  Wait, wait, WAIT!  I thought, if she’s almost 35, and we went to school together then...OH MY GOD I’M TURNING 35!!  That was when I went from confused to panicked myself.  How was this possible I thought?  Where did the last 10 years go?  And what did I have to show for them?  That is when my old familiar “friends” panic and regret started to settle in and take root. WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?!  I thought for the millionth time.  That’s when number 14 on my list was like, “Relax psycho, we’re working on it!” 

Last week when I was having lunch with my sisters one of them said they still didn’t feel like an adult and wondered when and how that feeling ever really set in.  I remember in my early 20’s thinking to myself, “Now I’m an adult, this is what it means to be a grown up.” or thinking that I was surely and adult when I got my first car, my first promotion, when I moved into Manhattan, but it always felt as if I was playing dress up.  Like this is what adults do, rightt?  I wondered if I didn’t necessarily feel like an adult because I hand’t passed the milestones of marriage or Motherhood, would they make me finally feel like an adult? Or does one never actually "feel" like an adult, do we all feel like we are just bumbling through life?  Nostalgic for the past while we stress about the future and too distracted to enjoy the present? 

I remember in The Hours Clarrisa Vaughn says something in regards to her youth that always resonated with me, she says, “I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment.”  In my early twenties I remember having days like that, coming home at dawn after a magical evening out and thinking, “This is just the beginning, things will only get better from here.”  I didn’t realize that life ebbed and flowed, it wasn’t just a constant climb up to the top.  I’ve been blessed in my life to have wonderful family and friends and not, in the grand scheme of things, much difficulty and strife.  However, I don’t think my young self really envisioned I would be where I am today.  I assumed things would just get bigger and better, my life would expand and moments of pure elation would hit me like a gust of wind out of nowhere.  I didn’t realize they are precious few and far between these lovely gales of happiness, they are to be savored and then remembered. 

Now that I spend my days with Terr-bear I actually want to one day be a mother more than ever.  However, I am also more scared of motherhood than I was when I was younger.  Perhaps our parents really did have it all figured out, they were too young and naive to realize what they were getting themselves into, married at 21, first child before 22, four kids by 30, and finally five before 40.  My sisters and I will often ask each other, “how did they do it?”.   When my mother was my age she had four children, I can’t keep an orchid alive.  If how I feel for my niece and nephews is only a fraction of what I will feel as a mother, well, I am in trouble.  You just want to protect them.  Protect them from danger, real and perceived, and all the fear, doubt, anxiety and insecurity that can come with growing up.    I want to preserve the wonder and pure joy I see on Terr-bears little face when I magically turn on the overhead light, then off. Oh! And then it’s on again!!  Oh! Now it’s off again! Such simple yet pure bliss, is it even possible for us as adults to feel that way?  When our mind has a habit of slowly creeping off and remembering the bill we forgot to pay, the call we neglected to make, work left unfinished, when suddenly the moment is gone and the anxiety once again settles back in.  

Perhaps a sure sign that I have indeed grown up (besides the constant low level anxiety) is the fact that my parents are no longer insane.  When I was in my teens they were clinically insane, during my college years they were not only certifiable but don’t even get me started on their political and religious views, crazy!  However, at some point in my early thirties, they not only seemed to become less insane, but, dare I say, I related to them.  I actually share similar points of view to them, I identify with them and, believe it or not, have fun with them!  One day it all made sense; they were kids, they were figuring it all out as they went along too, they did their best and they loved us.  As cliched as it is, there is no manual for this.  If you had told my 20 year old self that not only would I enjoy hanging out with my mother, but, we would in fact end up a lot alike, I wouldn’t have believed you, you crazy person! Despite the fact that when I let her drive she does 40mph on the highway and 90mph once we hit the exit, I do enjoy her company.  

Is finally being able to relate to my parents once and for all ushered me into adulthood?  Or is it that I have finally let go of regret?  Regret ate up 10 years of my life, it took me from 24 to 34 and left me scratching my head and asking myself, “What the hell happened?”.  It got me nowhere, it simultaneously made me nostalgic for the past, scared for the future, and immobilized me in the present.  What is so insidious about regret is that it breeds with itself, regret begets more regret.  Once you’re living with regret you are not moving forward, you are not living in the present, you are dreaming of the past.  I let regret over real or imagined missed opportunities and the supposed loss of my youth eat away 10 years of my life.  Notice there is no regret on my list.  There is no room for it.  I don’t have time for regret when I am playing with Terr-bear, there is no room for regret when you are planning your future, regret doesn’t like positive action.  But regret, he is a crafty bastard, he will try to get his foot back in the door, kind of like this weekend when I realized I was turning 35 in four months.  I felt those old familiar feelings, regret and his cohorts self-doubt and fear.  I thought, "I'm almost 35 and I haven't done anything, I have nothing to show for it!  I don't even feel like an adult and yet I'm getting old!"  Then I remembered the list, I reminded myself I am in fact an adult and I am no longer wasting my time with regret.  So me and the list we kicked that S.O.B outta here. Sorry regret, I’m a big girl now, I don’t need you skulking about anymore.  

Proud Peacock

Sorry for the late post today, the bear and I have been going non-stop.   My oldest sister Shelia is a teacher and today we took Terr-bear in as "show and tell" to her first grade class.  It was 18 or so girls and when we walked into the classroom it was like Hannah Montana had surprised them, they went ballistic!   My sister wrangled the girls and herded them all into a circle with Terrance in the middle and they sang his favorite songs, he was such a charmer!  He was holding Shelia's hands and dancing around while the girls sang, he was in his element.  Is there anything more satisfying than a baby smiling and dancing?  All the students were delightful , totally sweet and well behaved.   It was an amazing experience, not only for Terrance and the students but also for my sisters and me.

Almost as wonderful as it was to see the girls and Terrance interact was seeing my sister in her element.  I've never seen her in "teacher" mode.  We see our siblings in a certain way, usually the way we perceive them is tied up in that the family dynamic was when we were growing up.  If they were a rebel as a child we may still label them as a rebel, even if the title no longer fits.  To see them in action in the life they have created for themselves is amazing.  I recommend we instill a take your family to work day!  I was impressed and proud to see how she handled her students with such grace and love, each child seemed to have some sort of connection to her and it was lovely to see.  

I am contemplating becoming a teacher.  Number 13 on my list is applying to Grad schools, I want to go back for my Masters in Education and eventually become a middle or high school english teacher.  Growing up I had more than my fair share of really bad and inept teachers.  I remember at one point my sister Robin telling me perhaps my calling was to become a teacher, and all these awful teachers were just showing me how not to do it.  When I entered college instead of majoring in education I was an English major and after graduation I decided teaching wasn't glamorous enough and I wanted to make the big bucks.  Well that worked out well.  Now I am jobless and for all intents and purposes homeless so clearly, at some point, this train came off the tracks.  So now I am revisiting the whole idea of becoming a teacher.  I'm not a 100% there yet, I still need to figure out if that is where my passion lies, if that is where I will be able to give back the most.  Today when introducing us to the class Shelia introduced me as a writer and I laughed out loud.  But then I thought, "I like that!"  I was like a proud peacock strutting around in my head, yeah, WRITER!  Check me out!  At lunch I made a joke out of the fact that my family is far too generous and kind, all I had to do was write a blog for a week and now I'm a writer and Shelia said, "You are a writer!  You're writing every day, right?  You love it, right? You're a writer now."  And I thought, Wow, that's all it takes?  Doing it and loving it? And I do love it.  Since I started this blog a week ago,  I feel like I have stretched muscles in my mind that I no longer believed I had.  I feel excited each day when I think about what I will possibly write about.  Not knowing what I will write or what will inspire me infuses me with this energy and urgency I haven't felt since college.  And as I had hoped,  people reading it is keeping me focused, motivated, and accountable.  I walk every day no less than 30 minutes, I think before I put anything in my body, I am contemplating  the effect all my actions and decisions will have on my list and the time line I have given myself.   I know that I have people keeping me honest, and the feedback and support via people leaving comments here on the blog and on Facebook has been beyond my wildest dreams.  Some are completely hilarious, some touching, I love that people are now thinking of starting their own lists and people are relating to what I am writing.  Everyone was picked on as a kid!  What a revelation!  I honestly didn't know this!  Being able to write my desires, my wishes, and even some of my doubts and fears down in a public forum and have people write back and say they've felt the same way or they can relate is so comforting.  We are all in this together!  

Thursday of last week when I finally sat down to start a blog, after the universe had sent so many people to ask me why I didn't have a blog, I opened my computer, joined typepad and thought, "Uhm, now what?"  I hadn't the faintest idea as to what I would write about. I didn't research other blogs, I didn't read any of the articles about starting a blog my loving Mother had sent me, I didn't do any sort of outline or planning, I didn't even tell anyone I intended to do it.  I just did it.  I thought, "I'll write about Terrance and my time with him, babies are funny.  Everyone loves babies, right?" So, I just started typing.  And a list emerged.  I have always had a list in my head, I have always set time lines for myself, and because I was the only one who knew they existed they kept rolling over from one year to the next.  Now I was going to make it real.  And suddenly, I had a blog!   And with it came a feeling of purpose, and goals, and challenges.  Suddenly I felt like I was living, I felt like I had hope and that my best years weren't behind me, everything I wanted was ahead of me, I just had to make it happen.  And best of all, I had wonderful, kind, amazing people telling me this, telling me it was all out there for me, waiting for me, that they believed in me, that they were inspired by me!  What a wonderful thing.  What a precious gift!  Thank you! Thank you all for making me feel like anything is possible.  And hey, if I can become a writer in only one week, surely I can achieve whatever I set my mind to in this lifetime.  Thank you for all of your support and encouragement.  Please keep the hilarious anecdotes coming and I would love for anyone who so wishes to share their "lists" here too!  This weekend I am going to try to figure out how I can post my "Life List" so it is a permanent and growing part of the blog.  Have an amazing weekend party people! 

Sticks and Stones

The other day I reconnected with a friend from grammar school on Facebook.  I was thrilled to hear from her and even more thrilled when she wrote, “Was looking at your pics and didn’t even recognize you.”  THANK GOD.  Despite what my Mother would have you believe, I was not a cute kid.  Don’t get me wrong, I was an ADORABLE baby and toddler, but ages 10 to 20 were a little rough.  It wasn’t until I was in London and I discovered peroxide and lipgloss and realized that the whole flannel shirt grunge look wasn’t working for me that things started to turn around.  Having always been chubby with mousy hair and rocking my older sisters hand-me-downs, you can imagine I wasn’t exactly miss popularity.  Add to that the fact that despite all outward appearances to the contrary I fancied myself the next “big thing” and therefore would sing louder in chorus than everyone else and insisted on lip-syncing to Madonna any opportunity my teachers would let us perform for each other (thanks for reminding me Steph!).  Needless to say I was bullied a bit.  As a child I was never good at standing up for myself.  Every once in a while I would muster up all of my gumption and with wobbling knees and a shaky voice would try to stick it to my tormentors.  Like the time in 5th grade when two sixth grade boys where throwing rocks at me as I rode by bike hurriedly away from them, “Why do you sing so f*cking loud at chorus?!!!”  to which I responded into the wind, “My Mommy likes my voice!”  COME ON!  Seriously, I didn’t stand chance.  

As I got older, and especially when I entered college, I made a point of being more assertive, I wanted to leave that little bullied girl behind and start fresh.  I was also fortunate to have a wonderful, supportive and fun group of friends in college and because I was more confident I weeded out and actively avoided girls I found to be bitchy or catty.  Sometimes I took the whole independent woman thing too far and became a bit of a bully myself.  My friend Lynn loves candy corn, I mean LOVES.  Senior year in the cafeteria there was a huge vat of corns, you had to guess the amount of corns in the vat and the person closest would win the corns.  I deliberated over the amount and confidently entered my guess.  I could not wait to triumphantly present this huge tub o’ corns to Lynn.  A few days later my friend MIssy and I were sitting eating dinner when the womens field hockey team walks in and they start eating the corns!  I was incensed!  They were not only sullying the corns with their filthy hockey hands, they were ruining my odds!  I was beside myself so Missy says, “That’s messed up, you should just go take them.”  What?  Take the corns? “Yeah, take them and give them to Lynn.”  Genius idea!  So I marched up to the front of the cafeteria, pushed through the sea of field hockey girls, lifted up the vat of corns and turned and walked out.  Most of them just stared at me like I was crazy, but one vociferous young lady yelled several expletives at my back and demanded I bring back the candy corns as I  scurried out the front door.  I got in my car and drove to Lynn’s apartment and victoriously presented her with the corns.  Needless to say she was elated.  I went home, confident justice had been served, only to get a late night message from the dean of students telling me that if the candy corn wasn’t returned the next morning I may not get to walk with my class at graduation.  Uh oh.  Suffice it to say I hightailed the corns back to the cafeteria the next morning (side-note, Lynn is 100 pounds soaking wet and when I went to pick up the corns I would say at least half were gone.  How?  How does a little girl eat so many corns?!!).  When I did my walk of shame up to the front counter, coincidentally hockey girl was there, giving me the stink eye the whole time.  So, I walked out with my head held high, but I didn’t forget.  Fast forward to a few nights later, my friends and I are feeling hungry after a night of merry drinking, as we walk out to the the parking lot to go get some late night snacks, we pass hockey girls door.  Being the mature 21 year old I was I slur to my friends, “This’s the beyatch that called the campusss copsss on me! (Hiccup)!” and kick her door to show what a toughie I am.  Except whether it’s because I am drunk and have beer muscles or be it my 6 inch platform shoes, instead of kicking her door as I intended I actually kick IN her door!  I am standing there stunned and hockey girl pops up from her bed and we just stare at each other for a moment before I book it out of the front of the dorm, only to crack my huge heel in half and bite it on the concrete.  Clearly I had taken the whole assertive thing a bit too far. I blame it (and the shoes) partially on the fact that the Spice girls were HUGE at this point and all that “girl power” had gone to my head.  It was one thing to assert oneself and quite another to be a bully.  

 As an adult I still fluctuate between being assertive and being meek.  Some of my friends would probably describe me as strong minded while others would say they know I struggle with speaking my mind and standing up for myself.  I have a natural tendency to be shy, especially around the opposite sex where I tend to suppress the “real” me.  I tell myself goofy is not cute, guys don’t like funny girls, don’t talk too much, lower your voice, which can then at times make me seem not only boring but socially awkward.  And as I mentioned in a previous post, I have struggled at work with fighting for what I know I am worth, getting raises, getting recognition.  I am not comfortable championing myself.  So number 9 on my list is standing up for myself. I know I can do it, I’ve done it before, I just have to consistently be my own advocate.  Part of conquering number 9 on my list is also putting myself first, realizing I deserve to create the best life for myself.  I am entitled to feel good about myself, to be healthy. I can run a 5K, I will lose weight,  people are interested in what I have to say.  I deserve good things in life. This is my list and I'm making it happen!

Regular Birds

I woke up this morning feeling slightly panicked.  What was I going to write about today??!  I hand’t quit diet coke (it is the sweetest nectar of the gods!  I am powerless!!!) I hand’t run a 5K, clearly I am not yet a web maven or a yogi.  I haven’t done ANYTHING!  Then I danced around the living room with Terr-bear and relaxed. Forget xanax, dancing with a baby while sniffing their lovely little head is perhaps the most calming and soothing remedy around.  I realized I was being way too literal.  My goal going into this was to write 5 days a week, Monday through Friday, make it a priority and make it fun.  One day at a time, right?  I was being far too narrow minded when it came to my expectations, every day isn’t going to be a proclamation or a major revelation.  I am working on achieving my goals, not actually achieving them all in a week. 

I have always been oddly literal.  Especially as a child.  When I was 5 I heard my Mother refer to the “Kiddie Pool” at a hotel we were staying at and for the remainder of the vacation harassed her to please take me to “the cats water”.  In school the combination of me being very literal and also spacey with a tendency to zone in and out of what the teacher was be saying made for some interesting hijinks.  We had a boy who had moved to the U.S. from Australia.  He got up in front of the class and told us about life in Australia, there were aborigines, koala bears running wild!  Vast dusty farmlands, men would hunt wild turkey and boar for their families meals!  It sounded awful to me, I’ll stay in America where we have TV and my Mom buys our food at the grocery store, thank you very much.  I actually felt kind of sorry for him, he must have trouble conforming to the ways of our civilized society! After his presentation he passed out a “traditional" snack from his homeland, one that his Mother often gave him when he came home from school, it was white bread with cake icing and sprinkles.  Hunh?!  I was perplexed. Here I thought he was going to give us some beetroot to gnaw on, but this bread concoction, this was good stuff!  So, when Mrs. Kobe asked if anyone had any questions for him, my hand shot up.  “I don’t understand, if your Dad has to go into the outback to kill your dinner and you live in mud huts, uhm, how does your mother get white bread and icing with sprinkles?”  to which the young Aussie replied, “Are you calling me an animal?!  Like I’m so some sort of aborigine or something?!!”  He looked ENRAGED!  At this point my teacher cut in and gently explained, “Mandy, I think you are confused, he was telling us about Australia in the 1800’s, not modern day Australia." Ohhhhhhhhhh, that made SOOO much more sense!  Apparently I was staring out the window trying to remember the words to Summer Night’s in my head when that portion of the presentation was covered.  

That same year we learned about birds, all the different species and types of lovely birds native to our area.  My Mother and I would often sit in our dinning room looking out the windows and she’d point out different types of birds to me. I loved Cardinals, Blue Jays and of course Red Breasted Robins, so I was PSYCHED for this assignment, I was going to blow Mrs. Kobe’s mind with my bird knowledge. So that afternoon, I go home, pencil and paper in hand and bird watch.  After an hour I was like come on!  Not one Robin, Cardinal, or Blue Jay, BORING.  The next day when I was called upon to report my findings I stood up and said with regret, “Well, my bird watching wasn’t very interesting, they were all regular birds.”  To which my teacher responded, “I’m sorry, regular birds?  I don’t understand.”  To which I matter-of-fact-ly replied, “You know, regular birds, not blue Jays, not Robin’s, just the boring old regular birds.  Nothing special.”  To which she responded, “I believe you mean finches, perhaps?  The little grey birds common around here?”  Sure, whatever, call ‘em what you want, they’re regular compared to the others.  At least in my mind.  Wow.  Was it any wonder that the next year my third grade teacher submitted me for evaluation to the school psychologist, she thought I was mildly autistic.  Awesome.  

I can still be surprisingly insensible and will at times have tunnel vision when it comes to certain tasks.  The other day my sister showed me how to use the diaper genie.  Uhm, I’ve been using it for the last 6 months, or so I thought.  Apparently if you don’t push the diaper past a certain point they all clog up in the top.  So my sister has been coming home from work to a can stopped up with dirty diapers.  FABULOUS.  I consider myself a fairly intelligent person, but sometimes I get lost in my own head and don’t see what is obvious to everyone else.  No one is expecting me to achieve my goals overnight (you’re NOT expecting that, right??) I just have to repeat my mantra over and over, “It’s all about the journey, it’s all about the journey.”

But, I did it!  I wrote a post today!  Jumpy claps all around!  However, I will make a small proclamation, I am going to drink 8 glasses of water today.  No iced tea or diet coke, all water.  Quiting diet coke I am saving for the weekend.  I may need to lock myself in a padded room for 48 hours to make that happen.  

(Un) Lucky Number 7

 Maybe it’s just me, but, have you ever gone on Facebook and someone has amazing pics of their vacation to an exotic locale posted, someone else has adorable pictures of their new baby, and yet another person has an update about the amazing box seats they secured at the yankee game, and you think, “What am I doing with my life?? I am one pathetic loser!”  Social media has this dichotomous way of all at once connecting and alienating us.   Since starting my blog I have been so excited every morning to go onto Facebook because friends and acquaintances have been giving me amazing, loving and supportive feedback for my posts, this is when it is clear to me how brilliant and positive social websites can be.  If I didn’t have a Facebook profile, I couldn’t post a link to my blog and share it with people I care about, and I wouldn’t wake up in the morning to such lovely feedback.  I have friends in far flung places, who will attest I’m sure, that I am terrible at staying in touch.  I hate the phone and inexplicably am terrible at email as well.  For us Facebook is a quick and easy “cliff-notes” into each others day to day lives.  We see the status updates, the pictures and we get a sense of each other’s routines.  I love Facebook when it is a link to my friends and loved ones, it can provide humor, heartfelt insight, and a peek into milestones, celebrations and daily occurrences we may otherwise not be privy to.  However, there are other times when it feels like everyone else is living the dream and I am living the mundane reality.  Engagements! Promotions! New babies! Marriages! New homes!  Exotic vacations!!!!  Meanwhile my status reads, "A soda machine accidentally gave me a free diet coke!  Score suckers!" Ugh!

Number  seven on my "List" is to become more tech savvy.  I am at odds with my want and need to become more clued into the web and all it can offer, and my nostalgia for the way things were.  I remember when email was introduced kids!  I mean seriously!  At the time I thought this was the most amazing magical invention ever.  I was studying in London so it was perfect timing, my friend explained it to me (like I was a 5 year old, I might add) and I was incredulous.  “Let me get this straight, you write a paragraph, you enter their weird little name addressything and you hit send??  And they write you back?? In a matter of minutes sometimes?!!!!  AMAZING!”  My college friends back at home loved nothing more than reading and laughing at my drunken emails sent after a few pints at the pub, in which I would vacillate between euphoria and rage and every other word was completely butchered.  Remember when everyone had an AOL account?  I do.  When to connect to the internet you had to use a dial up modem?   I literally remember when I first got on the internet, again I was completely blown away and confounded, “You type ANYTHING into the search engine and information about it comes up?  Anything??”  (I was even more astonished to find there were actually other people out there who also were addicted to Scandinavian pop music.  Here I thought I was all alone in the world!)  By the way it was my Mother who had to show me how to use the internet, I was 19.  Come on!  Why is my Mother more technologically astute than me?  Always!  

 I just started this blog and I’m embarrassed to say that I have no idea how to add to the design, insert a column here, update there, no idea!  My MOTHER started talking about RSS feeds and stumble upon and my response was, “Blink, blink. Hunh??”  When I was about 7 years old my father brought home an early Apple computer for us girls to play with, we were all obsessed with it, he explained to us how to use it, word processor, some simple games, easy enough right?  For everyone else perhaps, but when I sat down to use it I dragged the ENTIRE operating system and threw it in the cute little garbage can in the lower corner of the screen.  Why?  Because I was seven and the garbage looked intriguing.  And, when you threw stuff in it it made a crunching noise!  Imagine my horror and surprise when the screen went blank and a little sad faced computer appeared staring back at me.  End of computer fun-times everyone, Mandy decided to literally throw the computer in the TRASH!!  My sister said it was the first, and probably the last, time she heard our Father say the “F” word.  Clearly the technology and I were not friends from an early age. 

 I want to become more web proficient and I need to if I want this to be an interesting and successful blog.  And I am going to be honest, I do want his to be successful!  I want as many people as possible to read it, share their experiences, share feedback, advice.  Therefore I am embracing social media, I am keeping up with Facebook, I joined Twitter!  (Seems a little self obsessed the whole tweeting thing but the kids say it’s cool)  My next task: tackle number seven on my "List", therefore, I have enlisted the help of my web guru, my MOTHER.  She has agreed to help me get more web proficient and learn all these ins and outs of blogging, tweeting, stumbling, (bumbling in my case) and making me realize there is so much more to the web than ordering clothes and cosmetics.  Who knew?!  Interwebs for Dummies here I come!

The List

For whatever reason growing up food was always a big deal in my house.  Before you say "Well, wasn't in most homes?"  It was a little bit of an obsession for us.  My sister once literally O.D.'d on Flintstone vitamins.  Those little guys were delish!  I would've beat her to it had I not had visions of my five year old self being carted off to the hospital in an ambulance to have my stomach pumped free of all those tiny Fred's and Barney's.  My Mother was an advocate of eating healthy, therefore, sweets were only around for holidays and special occasions (She would mix Honey Nut Cheerios with plain Cheerios to "water" them down, ugh!).  It was for this reason I would start planning my birthday menu 11 and a half months out.  My sisters and I mastered the art of emptying the contents of an Entemann's box of cookies without ever actually breaking the seal and opening the box.  You merely slipped your little hand along the outer seam and liberated the cookie from a still "unopened" box.  My mother would return home and remove a suspiciously light box from atop the refrigerator only to find one cookie and some crumbs banging around an empty yet inexplicably sealed box.  We never ate the last cookie, honor among thieves I suppose.  We had some sense of decorum! We were wily little hellions when it came to food.   Once my mother went into the pantry and found a block of semisweet bakers chocolate torn from it's wrapper and a chunk gnawed off the side, she feared we may have a mice problem. In actuality my sister had thought she hit the mother load when she spotted what looked like a delectable chunk of chocolate (and it wasn't even Christmas!!) and took a big ole' bite, only to be hit with the bitter taste of this impostor chocolate!  (Have you ever tasted bakers chocolate?  So disappointing)  Much of my childhood was spent obsessing over how to get food, and then how to squirrel it away from my sisters.   Is this why I have struggled with my weight and my relationship with food for all my adult life?  I don't really know.  I do know know that for the last 24 years, every birthday when I blew out my candles, and every New Years Eve, I have had the same wish, the same resolution: to lose weight.  However, as I get older it is no longer about being "hot" or fitting into a certain size, it is about being healthy and feeling good in my skin.  

In our culture food is inherently tied to our memories and our emotions.  Macaroni and cheese?  My Grandmother.  Onion dip and potato chips?  My Aunt Peggy's house.  Beef Wellington? Christmas.  French Toast?  Easter Sunday.  Food is often how we celebrate, how we nurture, it is how as a society we socialize and commemorate milestones.  One can't just "quit" food like drugs or alcohol.  You can't avoid food, you physically need it.  No going cold turkey here.  However, clearly, it is not an issue for everyone.  Many people enjoy food, are total "foodies" but aren't food obsessed.  Part of my journey this year is to not only get to a healthy weight and get in shape, but to develop a healthy relationship with food.  For that reason the number one task on "My List" Is:

1. Lose 65 lbs.

I debated doing some sort of weight tracker on here but truthfully this isn't The Biggest Loser, this isn't going to be a weight loss blog.  And it isn't so much about losing the weight (although I chose that number because it puts me in my healthy BMI range for my height and age) it really is about getting fit and healthy.  And as I said feeling comfortable in my skin.  Because becoming healthy and losing weight has been a focus for me and is a major part of my  journey this year, many of the challenges on my list are tied in to that, but not all of them.  I'll be listing the complete yearlong "list" below and in the coming weeks I am also going to be working on a life list.  You know, all the things I want to do and see and accomplish in this lifetime.  Like I said, I may never complete some of the tasks but the journey will be rewarding.  I am open to recommendations and tips, I love that my cousin Rusty shared her Curves experience and Michelle and Christy gave me some advice and homework assignments, keep 'em coming!  And thank you everyone for all the amazing feedback and encouragement, I am beyond lucky to have suck amazing, supportive and kind people around me!

Ok party people here is the list in it's entirety:

1. LOSE 65 LBS

2. 30 MINUTES OF WALKING 5 DAYS A WEEK

3 LEARN YOGA

4. QUIT COKE (Diet coke, I am beyond addicted) 

5. DRINK 8 GLASSES OF WATER DAILY

6. START AND MAINTAIN A BLOG (YAY!)

7. BECOME MORE TECH SAAVY

8. NURTURE MY RELATIONSHIPS

9. STAND UP FOR MYSELF

10. BEOME FINANCIALLY RESPONSIBLE

11. RUN A 5K

12. GO TO ITALY

13. APPLY TO GRAD SCHOOLS

14. FIGURE OUT WHAT I'M PASSIONATE ABOUT AND HOW TO MAKE MONEY WHILE DOING IT. 

15. PARTICIPATE IN THE AVON BREAST CANCER 2 DAY WALK

So there it is.  I have 12 months folks!  As I said in my previous post, I have wanted to do all of the above things (some more challenging than others) for many, many years. Now that I have eliminated a lot of stress from my life by leaving the rat race behind I have the luxury of being able to tackle these challenges with a clear mind and less stress.  Oh and I have my little Terr-Bear to cheer me on!   I rarely verbalized my "list" to anyone.  Now I am submitting these hopes, dreams, desires, and goals into cyberspace and making it known that this is what I want.  Do you have a list?  Don't we all, even if not on a conscious level have our "lists"?  Well, let me know!  Maybe I'll get some ideas and inspiration! 

Flying Under the Radar

This morning when I was driving my sister to the train she said she’d love to read Terr-Bear's blog, his view of life spending his days with me.  I have a feeling the title of his blog would be The Bear and the Blabbermouth.  I have always been a major talker, but stick me with a 10 month old all day and I become even more loquacious.  Is it bad when a baby grunts at you and holds his little hand up to silence you?  I’ve had this happen to me.  At least once a day.  His poor little ears.

Blame it on being the fourth child in a family of five girls.  You try getting a word in edgewise!  It was like trying to merge into traffic flying at 120 miles per hour, you had to be fast and concise or you would bite the dust.  At dinner I would sit with my tongue pressed against my front teeth, having already in my head rehearsed my story several times, I would wait for the briefest of pauses and spit out my news rapid fire, “My-chorus-teacher-gave-me-a-solo-to-sing-at-assembly” BOOM!  Wait for the accolades and your parents awe before they move on to the next.  We all had our ways of functioning within the family dynamic created by so many girls.  My younger sister tended to be rambunctious and would demand your attention through various outrageous hijinks, my older sister always made good grades, we had our rebels, our wise-asses, I ended up becoming known as the one who flew under the radar.  When it was time for bed I would tiptoe up to my sisters room to play dollhouse, at 11:00 when my parents would retire to bed they’d ask each other, “I thought you put Mandy to bed?!”  This technique, at times, served me well in a large family. Like when I received a grant from a college and instead of bragging about it to my family, I let it them hear it when it was announced at my high school graduation. Or when I lost over 50 pounds while studying in London, instead of telling them about my weight loss over the course of the many phone conversations, emails or postcards we exchanged, I waited for them to see me emerge from customs at JFK.  I liked the sneak attack, and if I didn’t verbalize my desires and intentions then no one could disagree or naysay.  And if I didn’t achieve my goals, well , then I was the only one I was really disappointed.  And finally, truth be told, whether it’s because I’m Irish, Catholic, or both, I simply am not comfortable with self-promotion.  I never felt at ease saying, “I want this and I intend to get it.” or “Look at me, aren’t I amazing”  Flying under the radar had served me well in a large family and worked as a way of getting a reaction out of my family, however, at a certain point, flying under the radar is no longer advantageous.

For instance in a job, working hard and keeping your head down doesn’t always work, especially in this day and age when many people are more savvy at promoting their accomplishments then they actually are at accomplishing anything.  I worked with people who while not as hard working or as productive as I was would receive more praise and attention due to the fact that they talked the talk and got themselves noticed.  I was the “reliable” one, I struggled with asking for raises, demanding equal face time, and often seethed internally while others who I felt were less deserving were  recognized.

It also isn’t necessarily healthy in adult relationships.  Keeping your cards close often keeps people at arms length.  If you don’t express your desires and wishes you can’t fault someone else for not being able to decipher them.  This business of not letting anyone else know what I wanted so that I was the only one who was disappointed left me feeling very, well,  disappointed at times.  It is scary to voice your aspirations, because then people will see you stumble and perhaps struggle in your journey to achieve them.  And what if you never achieve them?  Horror!!  But not really, right?  Because if I am able to step outside myself and my insecurities, I can honestly say I’ve never looked at someone who is attempting to achieve a goal whether it be running a marathon, weight loss, starting a business, whatever it may be and thought, “wow, what a chump!”  Even if they don’t achieve their specific goals, they’ve enriched themselves somehow and opened up their lives to new possibilities.  As cliched as it sounds it really is about the journey, nothing ventured, nothing gained!  So what if you never cross the finish line, you still came a long way from the start! 

So, this blog is part of me getting back on the radar.  I’m putting it out there people!  I am working on myself and instead of keeping it to myself I am shouting it into cyberspace.  I feel as if I am standing naked in front of the class, I feel out of my comfort zone, but comfort is the handmaiden of complacency.  So I am flying high (corny, but come on, I had to stick with the whole under the radar schtick) and I am enjoying the ride!  My assignment for the weekend is make my list.  THE LIST.  What I want to accomplish in the next year, from the big to the small, from drinking more water to finding my passion.  This is the start line, there may not be a finish line but I’ll enjoy the journey. 

Mademoiselle Butterfly

Do you ever get the feeling the universe is trying to tell you something?  Either that or your Mother has paid off everyone you know to ask you why you haven't started your blog so you finally acquiesce to her demands?  Something like this happened to me over the last few days.  Several people in my life asked me when I was planning on finally starting my blog and today my Mother asked innocently, "Have you thought more about your blog".  Done!  I am powerless to the wishes and whims of the universe!  So, that is my story.  And my ruse for making you read my thoughts on a daily basis.  I'm sticking to it!  If I behave as if I am in no way culpable for the creation of said blog then I can feel less narcissistic.  

A little about me:

I worked in the management level of cosmetics retail for 11 years.  I adore makeup, however, retail could turn Pollyanna and Holly Golightly into the most bitter and hardened miserable shrews.  Long hours, meeting sales goals, standing for hours on end, dealing with customer demands.  Let's just say I've seen the third ring of hell and it looks like a cosmetic sales floor during double discount.  So, I...left.  I am a play by the rules, do the right thing, play it safe, sort of gal so to stick my big toe out, pull it back, and then turn around only to turn back and take a running leap in to the ocean of the unknown was a huge deal and sort of scary.  At first,  then I came up for air I realized what a gift I had been given.  Suddenly I was off the wheel I had been spinning for over 11 years.  For the first time since I had graduated from college I felt like I was staring into the great wide open, and for the first time in a long time I felt hopeful!  

So, you may be asking, what did you decide to do?  Where did you go?  What did you learn?  Weeeeeelllll, that is what I am in the midst of figuring out.  I left my job, left my apartment, left the rat race and moved in with my sister and brother-in-law, just as my sister who had given birth to my nephew 3 months prior was about to return to work after maternity leave.  I was going to take care of my little 3 month old nephew for 10 to 11 hours a day while my sister was at work.  In addition I was going to plot my next move.  Did I want to go back to school and get my masters?  Become a teacher? Become a full time freelance makeup artist, a dog walker, a writer, a party planner, a beach bum, a hobo???  So this is the journey. I am spending my days with Terr-Bear, who over the last 6 months I have been caring for him has become the love of my life, and I am attempting to re-make myself.  Learn to like myself, lose weight, get healthy and figure out the next major step.  I am the proverbial "butterfly" referenced in the title of the blog and the bear is the adorable little Terrance, now 10 months old, who we all lovingly refer to as Terr-Bear Extraordinaire.  

This is my first post!  How exciting!  Right? I know, I know, everyone blogs, bloggity blog blog blog, ugh.  However, I want to do this, I think the journey is going to be exciting, and funny, and fun, so I'd like to share it.  Who doesn't want to start over at some point in their lives?  A clean slate?  It is such a rare opportunity.  I always thought I  was too old to let it all go and start fresh, I had to make a certain salary, I had to live in a certain place, drive a certain type of car.  I had to live up to everyone's vision of how my life should be, there were bills to pay, standards to uphold, keep up the status quo!  I let it all fall away.  I never thought I could, I always fantasized about it but never thought it possible, but I jumped and never looked back.  And my family and friends, the ones I thought would be horrified, would decry my breaking from convention, they all were relieved and supportive.  No one, not one person said "what the hell are you thinking?!"  In fact the most common response is envy.  Now my "job" is to make this time count and enjoy the gift I have been given.  At the other side I want to come out with a better understanding of who I am, where my passion lies, and what will fulfill me.  Along the way I am reworking my body, losing weight, getting physically fit and getting back a little of the old chutzpah I seemed to have lost along the way, all the while chilling with the most amazing, hilarious, brilliant, beautiful little man. (I may be a little biased)  And you are here to keep me honest, focused, and accountable and also as my wingman.  So come on!  Come along for the ride!