Thirty-three

It's not every birthday girl who says, "Today isn't about me this year. I don't need a crown, or balloons, or a singing group of waiters with a piece of cake. Skip the flowers and the cards and the parties and the candles. Let's make this year about the greater good."

But the truth is, this birthday girl deserves all of the above and then some.

And it may not have been her intention--she didn't want the fanfare with the birthday, nor with the accomplishment of doing what she did.

But this accomplice wonders, how can one not celebrate someone's desire to make the world a better place?

On her birthday eve, after a night of yoga and dinner and ice cream, we sat on her couch at 11 p.m. and finished prepping for the project. Surrounded by fun markers, and post-its, and stickers and cookies, we taped and scribbled and doodled and wrote.

It was just the beginning of the many random acts of kindness--thirty-three of them to be exact--that my friend Holly (inspired by this blog) chose to do in honor of her thirty-third birthday.

Here's the run-down of the kindness she shared:

1. Donated money to her favorite charity organization.
2. Made yours truly breakfast.



3. Posted a paper at Panera, "Take what you need, then pass it on: Love, Courage, Hope, Faith."



4. Held the door open for a sweet lady at Panera.
5. Left stamps stuck to a mailbox at the Post Office.



6. Bought coffee for a car in the drive-thru at Starbucks.
7. Gave a gift card to another car in the drive-thru at Starbucks.



8-9. Left post-its on cars: "Drive safely!" "Wear your seatbelt!"
10. Placed wishing pennies by the fountain at the mall.



11. Taped enough change for a drink to the vending machine.



12-17. Stuck notes of encouragement and positivity in the ladies' restroom at the mall. "You are beautiful!" "That lipstick looks amazing on you!" "Nice outfit!" "Your hair looks great today!" "You can do this!"



18. Left a coupon for Bath & Body Works next to a fragrance display in the store.



19. Placed pennies heads up in the parking lot.
20. Purchased (and delivered) flowers for her mom.



21. Gave a tired looking mom at the grocery a gift card to Tim Horton's (the first tired looking mom said she didn't drink coffee...we are thinking she should re-think that!).
22. Returned a grocery cart back to the store.
23. Took two bags of groceries to a food pantry.



24-26. Took gloves, coloring books, and craft supplies to a women's shelter.



27. Left Oh, the Places You'll Go! at a bus stop...with the message, "Enjoy the journey."
28. Fed parking meters.



29. Dropped off some dog treats at a local animal shelter.



30. Sent a friend a note, just because.
31. Sent a photo memory to another friend.
32. Took cookies to work.
33. Bought coffee for a work meeting.

Inspired yet? Get in on the kindness act. Tell us about what you've done. Or what you long to do. Or what someone did for you!

A Dose of Humility

Here's the thing:

I drink too much coffee. I eat too many sweets.

I raise my voice at my kids, and on a daily basis, I think I've failed at parenting.

I worry about money, the future, and whether or not I'm really actually great at anything.

I second guess decisions.

I fight with my husband.

I let clean laundry sit in baskets for more than a week because putting it away is just another effing thing to do.

I watch far too much TV.

I enjoy Family Guy--and laugh too hard when I shouldn't--way too often.

I rehash events from the past in my head over and over again.

I complain too often, about things like laundry, and the price of day care, and how tired I am.

I feed Will hot dogs and macaroni and cheese minimum, once a week. Reid gets far less homemade baby fare than Will did.

And I feel guilty about all of it.

I switched to wine because beer made me feel bloated.

And maybe I drink too much of it.

I don't devour books anymore.

I curse like a truck driver--a kind one who still says "please" and "thank you"--but a mother effing truck driver.

And I don't care if it's unbecoming.

And sometimes I do it in front of my kids.

I let Will watch Madagascar, or Cars, or Curious George, just so I can do a load of laundry I'll never fold.

Or hide in the bathroom for five GD minutes to try and catch my breath.

I write blogs that I never post.

I text in my car, and not just at stop lights and parking spaces.

I flip through facebook on my iPhone while I feed my baby.

And as I sit here, with the travel channel on my TV (travel? Ha!) and my 3rd cup of coffee in hand, and the book "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" sitting off to the side, I can't help but take a big, heavy, load bearing sigh.

And be effing okay with every single one of those things.

And I share it all because I think you should be okay with it, too.

We're in a time when being happy and positive and present and pinterest perfect is trendy, and there are articles, and people, and blogs (ahem) that preach it. And tell you how to do it. And make you feel even worse if you just.can't.get.there.

And I just wanted to say, it's okay to be everything but those things.

Wallow in them, love them, embrace them.

Hallelujah for a little bit of humility.

A follow-up to 32 Notes

A month ago today, I sent out 32 notes of love to friends and family in an effort to spread love, kindness, and joy to others.

I received so many notes in return--grateful for the love that was exactly my intention.

If you recall in my post, I sent a note to a friend with whom I had lost touch, and had not spoken to or seen in nine years.

I sent the notes on a Friday.

That Sunday, while going through the madness that is getting a family of four dressed after swimming lessons in the family locker room at the gym, I walked out of the dressing area and right into that friend.

It was insane, it was crazy, it was madness. What were the freaking odds?

We exchanged greetings, met each other's families, she thanked me for the note, we tried to sell her on joining the gym (they were on a tour), and then we--very awkwardly--said goodbye.

She emailed me the next day.

"I know a sign from the Universe when it slaps me in the face like that. We need to get together before I rear end you on Beechmont Avenue!"

And so tonight, over margaritas and mexican, we got together.

We re-connected.

We laughed so hard there were side stitches, and cheek aches, and tears.

I've had multiple conversations lately about how "midwest" it is to stay connected to the people you knew in high school.

Tonight, we talked about it again.

"There's just something so easy and so comforting in a friendship when that person knows everything about you from so young--that ground is covered and you just move on with the now," she said.

And *now* is a great place to be.

Even if you aren't much for resolutions, maybe resolve to reconnect with someone this coming year. Reach out, extend a note, an email, a phone call.

Nothing to lose, and nothing but love and friendship to gain.

Imagine your year filled with that.

Happy New Year, indeed.

32 Notes of Love

Over the last three weeks, I have written thirty-two love notes, thirty-two thank you notes, thirty-two little bits of joy.

I have written them to friends I've had for twenty years. I have written them to co-workers I see every day. I have written them to family members, teachers, and acquaintances. I wrote one to a person I lost touch with and haven't spoken to in nine years. I wrote one to a person I wronged three years ago--a long overdue note of apology. In fact, there were a few notes of apology...the silly things we do in our twenties seem even more absurd as we age.

I wrote one note addressed to both of my boys, an exclamation of their profound impact on my life.

Each one is a simple statement of appreciation, written on a bright yellow card with the silhouette of a dog.

And this morning, on my thirty-second birthday, I dropped all thirty-two love notes in the mail.

What better way to spend a birthday than smiling ear to ear, knowing that thirty-two people are going to  smile, too. 

(And for the record, this blog, these notes, they aren't about bragging. They are here to inspire. It isn't praise that I seek--but if it inspires you to do anything even remotely similar, then woot! hooray! yip yip yippee! That is what it's all about!)

A Gratitude Post

I had planned it perfectly.

Three days ago as we did our weekly shopping, I knew precisely what I was making for Thanksgiving--my side dishes assigned the day prior--and I exited the grocery store overly boastful that I wouldn't have to step in it until next Sunday.

And then I forgot the French's onions.

And we needed more coffee.

And oh, could you pick up some wine for tonight?

And yes, I should make pumpkin bread for breakfast.

Two extra trips in as many days, and all of the ingredients stared at me on the counter.

"Cook me! Stir me! Put me in a bowl! Bake me!" they called.

But the kids would not nap.

Guests arriving in two hours and I hadn't started a thing. In fact, I spent more time looking for a pumpkin bread recipe and checking email while simultaneously being Captain Hook and building things with blocks for the baby to knock down.

And then I read an email from a friend that went something like this:

I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving with your family. Greg and I will be driving to Cincy very early on Thanksgiving morning. I've never done that before...travel on Thanksgiving. I'm actually kind of looking forward to it, to the quiet roads, to some one-on-one time with my love. 

I'm nervous too. To come home to that house w/o my mama standing in the kitchen. But I'm grateful for the 27 perfect years I had with her. For 27 well-stuffed and well-fed Thanksgivings. 

I closed my email.

I walked into the kitchen and I set Reid at my feet. I pulled the flour out of the pantry and the measuring cups from the drawer.

Will wandered in upon hearing the clanging and said, "Hey mommy, can I help?"

We baked; we dusted Reid's head with flour; we giggled at egg goo dripping to the counter tops; we tasted our pumpkin bread batter and Mmmmmm'd about its deliciousness.

We created memories--because what else could possibly matter more?

In honor of my sweet friend and her mother whom she misses so dearly.

This is the time of year when we count our blessings and declare our gratitude for things like Starbucks holiday drinks and pretty paint colors on our walls. And it's so important to recognize the beautiful little things that are around us every day that make our individual worlds glisten.

But the big picture stuff makes us whole.

Today, I am grateful for memories--old and new--and being a part of lives that are so completely beautiful.

Be bright.

When I ended the ol' blog and started this here new one, and I contemplated what it should be called, I brainstormed all the "Be"s that I love.

The three most important--present in each moment, seeking happiness, and sharing the warmth and light that I can muster--are the ones that speak to me daily (even if I'm not baring all right here every day).

A few weeks ago as I snuggled into bed, I said to Greg, "There is something missing. I go from A to B to C and somehow blur straight to Z by 8:00 at night. Something in my soul is missing. My light is seriously dim."

"What do you think it is?" he asked.

"I dunno."

I pulled the covers up a little more so only my eyes were peeking out.

"I think it's yoga," I said.

"Then go," he replied.

Ah, if only it were just that easy, to drop it all and stroll into a studio and downdog like I never stopped.

Cue me taking the class (that I seriously cannot stop talking about and I encourage you to look into because it will make you a better human being).

Awakening the spark.

Suddenly--either because of manifestation or because I became acutely aware of the word "spark," everything around me was fire.

I even heard "Come on Baby Light My Fire" twice on the radio. Totally random.

And Will even painted this picture at preschool.

And a million other sparking, fire lighting, warm things started to come my way...

...including an opportunity to teach a beginner's yoga class to a whole bunch of very eager teachers and secretaries in my school district as a part of our wellness initiative.

Was I ready to go back? In my mind, teaching again meant minutes spent and energy spent not on my kids. It seemed unfair.

Mommy guilt.

But I needed to spend the energy on myself.

So this afternoon, as the sun was starting to set, thirty-six people crammed themselves into a music room and I taught them how to breathe.

And sigh big heavy weight releasing sighs.

And move.

And fall in love with the very thing that makes my soul shine.

As I left the class, a friend texted me: "I'm on the other side of town and I can feel your energy."

And then I got home, and that sweet husband of mine had this waiting.

"Reminded me of you," he said.

Warm. Shining.

Bright.

What makes you beam? What makes our soul sing? What makes your heart happy? Are you stuck in a rut and need to get back to something?

Do Good

Sometimes I crave vanilla milkshakes. Other times I just want a big ol' pile of french fries with ranch dressing.

Sometimes I crave coffee.

Probably because I'm freaking addicted.

But today I craved something completely bizarre:

Beauty.

Without regurgitating everything I've absorbed in the last month, I think my reasons are obvious (and probably the same as yours).

So after Will and I got kicked out of the pediatric dentist this afternoon (a story for another time, really), and I was pulling two incredibly cranky children out of the car, our elderly next door neighbor shuffled out of her house with cravings of her own: interaction with my kids. I let Will chat with her (okay, he stared at her blankly) while I stared at the windows of my car, now smeared with ice cream splatters and finger prints--my "holy crap I can't believe we got booted from the dentist" consolation prize--and I thought to myself, "I don't think I could possibly be more irritated in this moment."

We entertained the neighbor for thirty more seconds and I stormed into the house.

For the next half hour we decompressed.

And just so you know, that involved ScoobyDoo (for the kids) and Halloween candy (for me, duh).

Then, epiphany. I was tired of all the ugly--all of it, from Hurricane Sandy to the kids' dentist and all of the events in between.

I'm in the last week of that class I am taking, where making art every day is required (and welcomed by my soul).

I looked at Will and I said, "Let's. Make. Art."

Crayons, watercolors, and glitter were pulled out. We brushed and glued and wrote and sprinkled and dusted.

Then we admired.

And we delivered our beauty

to our neighbor.

If good begets good, let's all spend a little more time focusing on what feels amazing.

Do love. Be beautiful.