The Confession {Part 7}

Hello friends and readers.
Part 7 of my short story  The Dinner Party  has been published.
Click HERE.
Happy Reading!

To be an individual

When I was in third grade I got a pair of red high top chucks for my birthday.  I was so over the top excited about those shoes.  I had wanted them for weeks.  I thought about how cool I was going to look in them.  How they would declare red as my new favorite color.  I thought about every stitch of my clothing that could be worn with them.  So on the Monday after my birthday party, I walked head high, into my classroom.  I showed them off to my teacher.  I was so proud of those damn shoes.
Until another girl (I don't even remember her face) stopped me in the bathroom and observed, very loudly I might add,
"You have huge feet!  Look at your shoes!  You have clown feet!"
I never wanted to wear my beloved red chucks again. I'm pretty sure I never did.
It funny that at 35 years old, I've been thinking a lot about that moment.  What would have happened if she had never noticed my clown feet?  Would I have gone years without noticing that for a 5 foot one inch person I have abnormally large sized eight feet?  Would I have bought more pairs of high top chucks in every available color?  I'll never know because I have spent the rest of my life worried about my clown feet.
It makes me wonder, who would we be if others had never pointed out our minor flaws?  What if that person hadn't called you fat, or four eyes, or brace face?  What if that guy had never said that your face was too chubby, or that your hair was too short?  What if we could have lived our whole lives never knowing that someone had a negative opinion of us?  Would we still be the same people we are today?
I don't think we would be.  I think that our "flaws", whether they are actual flaws or not, really make us what we are.  It's because of those flaws that we thrive.  We are always on the path to be better and bigger than those things that make us feel insecure.  We go to the gym to get rid of the fluff, we get our hair colored to get rid of the gray, we wear contacts instead of glasses, or whiten our teeth.  But are any of these really flaws?  No, not really.  They are usually the things that other people point out. As if to remind us that we are not perfect, and certainly not like everyone else.
It shouldn't matter.  Does it really matter that my feet are size eight?  Does it really matter that I color my hair, or wear spanx on occasion?  It doesn't matter, and then again it does.
I had a conversation yesterday with a friend who is currently wrestling over individuality.  Not her own, but her child's.  A few days ago her child asked her if she thought he was "weird", to which she confessed that she didn't know if she was going to throw up or cry.  But like the good mother she is, she handled it with grace.  Asking him what he meant by weird.  What is weird anyway?  She also pointed out the things that make her weird and dad weird, and sister weird.  In the end though she knows that her child isn't weird, but that her child is an individual.  And individual that tells his brother that he's not supposed to answer moms question because it's "hypothetical".  At seven he doesn't care much for the cartoon network or the Hub, but he loves TLC and National Geographic.  He likes to watch Star Trek, and I don't mean the Next Generation.  
In my conversation with her, I reminded her that we couldn't have birthed children that were status quo.  We will never be free of the "individuality" talk.  That no matter how hard we battle through infancy, the toddler years, preschool, and grade school, our toughest battle will be the one waged against conformity.  Let's face it, our children will never be the followers, they will be the innovators. They were individuals from the moment they were conceived.  They were born to women who know a thing or two about being "weird".  
Being an individual isn't weird.  It's a gift.  It's what makes us live and thrive.  It took me a long time to learn that and accept it.  I'm hoping as a mom, I can inspire the individuality of my children.  That I can teach them what makes us different makes us great.  It wasn't just my clown shoes that showed me I wasn't like everyone else.  It was my taste in music, my clothing of choice, my circle of friends, my love of books.  And so what if I didn't date the most popular guy, if I wasn't the belle of the ball, if I was never homecoming queen material.  Sure it hurt then, but now?  Now I see it was the greatest gift I could receive.
Just like my clown shoes.

Excuses

I posted this picture on Instagram Sunday with a list of things I should be doing.  I should have gotten out of bed and gone on a run.  I should have got up and made breakfast from scratch instead of a can. I should have cleaned and cooked and got my house in order for the week.

But you guys know me and know better.

I went to Michael's and the Dollar Store for Girl Scout/Room Mom stuff.  I fed my family canned cinnamon rolls for breakfast, Taco Bell for lunch, and grilled cheese for dinner.  I started laundry at 6 pm instead of 6 am.  I treated Sunday like a Sunday.  For rest and leisure and fun.

A few weeks ago, there was a big stink in Internet land about excuses.  A fitness blogger, who is also a mom of 3 boys, posted a picture of herself, in all her fitness glory, with her three boys and posed the question, What's your excuse?  The Internet world was set afire with support and condemnation. People lit her up like a forest fire, calling her out, and criticizing her life.  Things got personal, very personal.  I didn't participate, but I read a fare share of comments that were either supportive or horrifically degrading to this mom/fitness guru.

Look, I get it.  No one wants to be called out from the couch.  Even I get huffy when my Instagram feed is clogged with 5 am Club posts.  People out on runs or walks, or at the gym. It makes me feel glutenous and sloth like.  Then I remember that I have a choice.  I can be motivated or I can say, not today.  Because we don't always have the chance to work out, or hit the pavement.  Some days we don't even have the time for a shower.  And yes, these are all excuses.  So sue me.  I have excuses. And I use them.

One of my closest friends is a workout/fitness guru.  She has an amazing body, and she is very proud of it.  She has been posting her journey for the last six weeks as she is going to be in a bikini/body building contest.  Her body is amazing and she has worked really hard to get there.  You would think that her posts would make me feel bad about myself, but they don't.  Not even a little.  In fact they helped me come to terms with my reality.

My friend finds happiness in the gym.  Her excuse is the gym.  She will admit that freely to you.  Want to have dinner?  She will say, Can't I'm teaching a class or taking a class at the gym.  She loves to be at the gym, pushing her body and power to the limit.  Good for her. This is where she finds happiness, and I'm good with that.

My happiness is here.  At home, writing my blog, getting my craft on, or watching The Mindy Project. Sure I work out, but it really doesn't bring me the same joy as reading to my kids, or watching the Little Mermaid with them.  The gym doesn't bring me the same joy as sitting down and writing a post, or a short story, or working on larger writing projects.  I'm happy right here, so my excuse is my blog, or my writing.  Sometimes my excuses are my children, or dinner, or girls scouts or dance. Sometimes I can't do the laundry that particular day, because I've had a stroke of inspiration and if I stop typing now I'll lose it.  See, this is my excuse, and I'm not sorry for it.

We all have excuses, but let's celebrate them.  Some of us have our half marathons, our paleo diets, our smoothie challenges.  Some of us have our handmade shop, our blogs, our books that have been sitting on the shelf begging us to read them, our glue guns, our scrap fabric, our DVR full with last nights delights.  Those are all of our excuses.  We use them when we are in our happiest of places.  They are our excuses to the should haves.  Because your should have is going to be different from my should have.

I know what you are thinking.  We have been conditioned to make no excuses.  But sometimes excuses make us happy, and excuses are not regrets.  Remember that, hold that tight. 

Excuses are not regrets.  

Today for instance I needed to skip my morning workout.  My excuse, I needed to go across town to the fabric store, without kiddos, for some me time.  Then I went to another store and did some Christmas shopping, and then to Target.  Alone. That was my excuse, and I carved a little time out for me.  And there is no regret in my heart for not meeting Jillian at 6 am. Excuses don't have to be bad or negative.  Regrets are bad and negative.  Don't have regrets because you were too afraid to use an excuse.  Excuses can happily change your life. 

Because instead of doing more laundry I'm writing.  Currently my excuse is writing.

So excuse me while I do some more of it.

Life Lately (October)

October was...

Days filled with funny faces and giggles.

New outfits for cooler weather.

A giveaway or two, and a mock photo shoot or two.

Time to cheer for our favorite team.

Trying new foods that aren't really new.

What is with kids and cups of noodles??

Stocking up at Whole Foods.

This kid is super selective about what you put in her cart.

Sundays spent doing the ordinary,

which feels extraordinary, because we were together.

Making our case for the Living in Yellow Look of the Day.

Hostess cupcakes making their comeback.

Reading books before bed.

Even the old ones that used to be mamma's.

A date night selfie.

Tailgating with friends.

Getting our cheer on.

Game Day Selfies, in red, as the sun goes down.

Date nights at their finest.

Best Friends and a walk through the pumpkin patch.

Enjoying every minute of Daddy at home.

An outfit of the day or two, cut waistband and all!

Day date with my oldest.

Because it's hardly ever just her and I anymore.

To make up for it, cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate, were a must.

Picking the perfect pumpkin.

Last minute DIY Halloween costumes.

Finally carving a pumpkin for the first time.

Because I'm that mom, and because it's so hot in Fresno,

that if you carve it, it will rot by morning.

For raking the smallest pile of leaves, and then throwing it in the air.

Morning crazies.

Halloween costumes that they picked out.

My pumpkin carving masterpiece.

Winning the Living in Yellow look of the day!

With this costume on Halloween.

Realizing that Santa may need to get a part time job!

Happy mail and amazing friends that surprise you with gift exchange goodies.

October was realizing that I can't do it all.  Even if I try.  October was finally welcoming cold weather, and the scent of cinnamon spice in the air.  October was fun and full and chaotic, and I am so grateful.

I'm grateful for a full life.  I'm grateful for wonderful friends and neighbors that made Halloween so fun.  I'm grateful for a Hubbs that takes his football so seriously, and a Bulldog team that loves us as much as we love them.  I'm grateful for my tailgating crew who makes every game a party, and every party a family get together.  They say November is the month of gratitude, but I say it's October too.  Something about fall, just brings out the best of us.

The Dinner Party {Updates five and six}

Happy Friday. I had a few spare moments to edit and revise parts five and six of  The Dinner Party. Enjoy it by clicking here. And don't forget you can always read it by visiting the page, The Dinner Party.