-       David Bowie

Here’s what I know how to do.  One foot in front of the other.  Grammy always said, “keep on keeping on.”  And that’s what I’m doing.  However, I think I just need a good cry.  Or a vacation (though we never seem to have the money or time for that).  I’ve got a couple of great friends who are stepping up to relieve the pressure I’m in and I’m seeking help on the things that I can change.

But change is at the crux of it all.  There’s a lot of change going on.  Change from within.  Change from the outside.

Last week BigBoy started kindergarten.  He is loving it.  It’s giving him a sense of purpose and he’s eager to do well.  I think his teacher is a great fit for him.  I have volunteered to work in his classroom twice a month.  That appeared to be a good commitment for me.  Not too much, but participating nonetheless.*  Then I also signed up for being the room Scholastic mom.  Well, you know about my love for books and that will be every 6-8 weeks.  So other than writing a check for the PTA and the social events that support our school, I think I’m good and I’m not signing up for more.

Luckily his kindergarten is from 8:00 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. and then released early (around noon) on Fridays.  I do the drop off, pick up, lunch making and homework reviewing (yes there is homework for kindergartners).  I’ve attended the orientation, first day meeting and back to school night.  I’ve entered in the full year of calendar events on our family Outlook (don’t laugh, but how else do you keep it all together?).

The next biggest change that has occurred is that my unemployment ran out and I’m now a part-time work from home mom.  I had to come up with something to replace that income and I don’t want to sacrifice my relationship with the boys for a full-time paycheck.  I don’t want to go down that road again.  So if I can creatively come up with contracts to work from home, then you betcha, I will.   And I have.  And I actually think that we can make it work and pay our bills.  There is one bill in particular that is out of control (my student loan), but more on that later.

Two days a week and every other Friday, I have BabyD go to our fabulous sanity-saving, in-home daycare friend down the street.  So I have two days a week where I’m focused working for a good chunk of time.  I can sprinkle in some client work when I have BabyD on Tuesday and Thursday…it’s as Tim Gunn says, “make it work people!”  My first piece of work is that I’m handling some marketing and admin work for a friend and real estate agent a few hours each week.  Then, with the thanks of my blog and love for social networking, I landed a great client (of all things) in the aquarium enthusiast world.  I’ll be writing blog posts and handling their social networking to create a community around their progressive (and green) products.

I’m stoked about the possibilities of it all, but that’s a lot of newness and change and I’m looking for my rhythm inside of all that.  And of course, there are big things that are happening NOW and clients need stuff NOW.  So it’s been a busy week for me to say the least.  AND I’m actually getting some more requests from other sources for work!  I am blessed and trying to see how all this can fit in.

Let me say a bit about BabyD.  He’s a complete 2 year old right now.  He wants to do things his way, he yells at me, he fights fiercely with his brother, and he can turn on the charm at the wink of an eye.  He’s a killer and a tough one for me.  Yes, we’re still going to swim class on Tuesdays.  We also just moved him from his crib to a big boy bed (he loves to show everyone who comes over his car bed…it’s just cars on the comforter, pictures and a pillow, but he’s thrilled about it.)  Just yesterday we sold his crib, chest of drawers-changing table, and linens.  *tear*  I have to admit that I got a bit choked up, but I’m happy to help out a newly started couple with our set.  Like all moms say, “he’s growing up so fast.”  One minute I want to squeeze him so tightly and the next minute I want his bad attitude to stay in his room forever all day.

And for the cherry on top, Husband and I are SO VERY out of sync with each other.  I just want to be held, loved on, and asked how I’m doing traveling at the speed of light with all this change going on.  Hell, just notice that I’m wearing a dress — that would be nice.  Instead, I think that everything out of his mouth is a challenge or critique without a word of care.  He thinks he can’t do anything right by me.  I think he just needs to listen more/better and use his brain.  This could go on and on.  I’ll save you from my relational hell.  I’m not sure if it’s my hormones that our outta wack (I’ve sought help from a regular medical doctor and a naturopath) or if we need some counseling to sort out our communication.  I think we need both.  Stat.

I have to confess that he did bring me flowers this week after a tiff we had.  That was nice.  Really nice.  He’s not all bad.  And I just noticed that he fixed BigBoy’s curtains that have been broken for over six months.  That was nice. Really nice.  (see, trying to focus on the positive)

It’s just a lot right now.  A lot of change.

But we got sea legs
And we’re off tonight
They can’t have that to which they’ve no right
You belong to a simpler time
I’m a victim to the impact of these words,
And this rhyme.

Sorry, random but poignant reference to my favorite Shins song (“Sea Legs”).

San Elijo State Beach - yeah, this is where we go camping

I find what brings me peace and hope and I pray.  Music helps.  The ocean helps.  We’re camping this weekend at the beach with good friends so I’ll eat, drink, and find merry.  But mostly what I’ll be doing is putting one foot in front of the other and trying to find my rhythm.  The way out is through.  Right, Mary?

Champagne.  It has bubbles.  That will be my drink of choice this weekend.  It will help lift my spirits and find the brighter side.  Clearly, there is a lot to be happy about.  I just need to get my sea legs under me with this change.  Cheers friends.  I hope you’re also finding your new rhythm with school back in session.

*One of my dear Jen friend’s (cuz you know I know over a dozen Jens) advice was to not sign up for too much at kindergarten.  She told me that there will be ample requests for help throughout the year.  However, she said the one thing to be sure to do is to volunteer in the classroom.  Her thinking was that you get to know the children well and their little personalities.  Then you know who to help steer your little dude (or princess) toward and/or away from.  The insightful thought is that mostly these kids don’t change a whole lot from kindergarten into junior high and on up.  You’ll know who’s trouble. 

To help me adjust to motherhood, I made up a saying that is a declaration, a meditation, and an affirmation; something that just helps me to get by.  It is “there’s enough room here for everybody.”  What I mean is that there’s enough room here (in my family, in my house, in my community, among my friends) for everyone to have a little space, have their needs met, get a little love and happiness.  There’s enough.  We’re all welcome here.

That’s me being happy and open, ready for the possibilities of what lies ahead.  You know, “the hills are alive” and all that jazz (sts).

Then there are also days when I really hope that we don’t run into each other at the grocery store.  I’m grumpy, short-tempered and the kids are in the way…you know that feeling?  In fact, I’ll even admit it, I (accidentally) knocked BigBoy over in the store today.  It was a big boo-hoo scene.  Suck it up kid, was the extent of my sympathy (sorry it just goes that way sometimes).  We go to an unconventional grocery store with smaller aisles and I really ask that the boys (I try to keep BabyD in the seat) to pay attention to the cart and other people in the aisle.  They need to stay out of others’ way and watch where I’m steering.  They can’t just wander (or run) around the aisles aimlessly.  Because kids like that are annoying and I’m sorry because those may be your kids.  (Don’t hate me for asking the question, but you do know that behavior is annoying, right?  Especially in small markets or areas with limited spaces or crowds or…I better shut up now. )

But here I am correcting BigBoy, holding BabyD because he’s about to have a meltdown and unloading the grocery cart all at the same time.  I hate these days.  I’m in a mood.  I never feel less sexy than going grocery shopping in my mom uniform.  You know what I’m talking about, right?  Mom uniform:  capris, non-belly flab revealing t-shirt and matching flip flops, which is of course the dressier version of yoga pants and a two-day old tank top.

I promise you these are not my capri pants. But it's how they make me feel.

There is nothing redeeming about capris.  Your legs are either too chubby for shorts (or you’re demented enough to think so) or it’s too cold for exposing your legs, but all your junky jeans really need to get washed.  I try to cute-up my capris with a cool t-shirt and matching flip flops.  And you know what Grammy taught me, “A lady never leaves her house without lipstick and earrings.”  I put in a good minimal effort.  But the simple truth is who looks good wearing these?

I think the simple fact of the matter is that these capris to blame.  They made me grumpy.  It’s their fault.  So if sexy is an attitude and a feeling then my carpis make me feel so not sexy, frumpy, generic, like a mom who has lost herself and I don’t give a shit.  And then f-off thankyouverymuch.

Excuse me.  I think I need to go change out of these capris and back into not just another jen.  Cheers.

For more rage against capris, here were some good ones:

FLAM’s Fashion Fail: Capri Pants

Mom Uniform Not for Me

Capri Alternatives, or That Girl That I Hate

Red alert! It’s another anti-capri sortie

The Tuesday prior to our trip, my Dad had his first doctor visit in probably 25 years Welcome to Medicare physical exam.  My Dad didn’t even get to ask the doctor the list of questions that my sweet Mom had made up for him.  His blood pressure was so high the nurse practitioner thought he was about to explode.  He had to go to the hospital right away.  A bit strange to my Dad, for sure, since he’s been feeling that way for such a long time.  While my parents were here for Christmas, we expressed our concern for his inability to climb the stairs in our house without being out of breath.  He is just 65.  My brother and I knew something was up.  You couldn’t go through our childhood with that many sodas (Dr. Pepper at 10-2-4 comes to mind), cookies and Miracle Whip sandwiches.  My Dad is old school, grew up in Texas, and even if he ever had health insurance, he probably wouldn’t have gone to the doctors anyway.  Yes, my parents are two in the 37 million Americans without health insurance because they can’t afford it and never worked for companies very long that had coverage.

To make a long story short, Dad had three stints placed in his heart and one artery is completely collapsed.  While I was assured that this is no big deal, practically out-patient surgery (“even President Clinton had this done and look, he’s fine”), I was still a bit shaken up.  I mean, it’s MY Dad.  We’ve had a bumpy road of father and daughter, not the traditional hero worship/Daddy’s little girl affair.  The past has been forgiven and I’ve let go of it, now we’re at a great place of mutual love and respect for each other.  I want this time to endure and build memories from.

Fast forward to the Village Inn (similar to Denny’s) in Apache Junction, AZ.  Mom, Dad, BabyD and I are having breakfast together.  Seeing Dad eat pancakes, eggs and greasy sausages had my heart sink a little.  Let’s not even talk about the cheeseburger and fries consumed the night before.  Killing time before the memorial service we tour my college campus and my old apartment building.  My dorm isn’t even there anymore (it’s been torn down and replaced with fresh, new residential living) and my apartment building is now gated.  Conversations with my parents about old boyfriends, roommates, and drama have me feeling heavy and that this past life in Arizona is so far removed from who I am today.  This jen has come a long way, baby.

I am touched by the turnout at Steve’s memorial, even with the torrential and odd downpour.  This service is for a man that while I was growing up often scared the shit out of me when he yelled at us kids.  As an adult, he was the guy that would flip you the bird, shove his middle finger in your face and say, “Want to see where the scorpion stung me?”  He was a Vietnam Veteran, a father to a dear and lifelong friend, a husband to one of the nicest ladies, and my Dad’s old golf buddy and farkle adversary.  We shared some great time with him and his family while we were young.  Steve died after a year-long battle with cancer.  I looked over to my Dad during the service who was bouncing Baby on his lap.  I see that he has tears welling up in his eyes.  He says to me before the 21 gun salute, “we’re going out front.”  I get it Dad; things are a bit too intense right now for you.  They are for me too.

So fast forward to this week, I feel like the Universe has really been speaking to me.  I’ve been all emotionally clogged, didn’t write all week, and feeling ponderous.  I know that the blahs have been with me too long and I need to move on.  What do I need to learn, see or hear here?

Well, Sicko was ready for me to pick up at the library to view and Oprah (the one time I turned the TV on during the day) did an episode on Food Inc. and Michael Pollen, the author of The Omnivore’s Dilemma, was a guest.  The messages from both the movie and television show that I watched really altered my thinking and made a big impact on me.  The first prevailing message was “pay now or pay later.”  You can spend more grocery money and brain power (i.e., conscious thought or in common sense terms “paying attention”) on the food you put in your body and how you care for your life on the front end or you can pay more money and emotional turmoil on the backend when you’re sick, need medication and treatment, and still have to suffer through the medical and insurance systems.  Nutrition, exercise and mindful thinking or health costs, disease and insurance nightmares later?  Don’t care well for yourself on the front end of your life then you’ll suffer on the backend.  How much more plainly should I put it?  Wherever you go, there you are, right?

The second prevailing message is we are a “Me” nation, not a “We” nation.  We’re vastly concerned about how much national health care is going to cost us individually.  We need to be praising the possibility of our parents and children being well cared for.  We need to be affirming our health and the goodness that it is to take care of others (those we know and those we don’t).  Instead, we’re putting our energy on fussing and fighting about it.  That disturbs and saddens me.  We have the opportunity to raise the bar on our humanity. I pray that we make the leap of faith and institute a national healthcare program. If we did then we would save lots of families from worrying about how to pay for their new medications (just like my Mom & Dad).  It’s pretty simple for me at this altitude.

I want to help my Dad through this time; let him know that he can make changes that will extend his life.  I want to create more memories with my Mom & Dad and my family.  I refuse to believe the saying that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.  It’s never too late to care – as a father, a daughter, friend or a nation.  Because the Beatles always speak the truth to me, I’ll close with a song.  Cheers!

Try to see it my way,
Do I have to keep on talking till I can’t go on?
While you see it your way,
Run the risk of knowing that our love may soon be gone.
We can work it out,
We can work it out.

Think of what you’re saying.
You can get it wrong and still you think that it’s all right.
Think of what I’m saying,
We can work it out and get it straight, or say good night.

We can work it out,
We can work it out.

Life is very short, and there’s no time
For fussing and fighting, my friend.
I have always thought that it’s a crime,
So I will ask you once again.

Try to see it my way,
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong.
While you see it your way
There’s a chance that we might fall apart before too long.

We can work it out,
We can work it out.

Life is very short, and there’s no time
For fussing and fighting, my friend.
I have always thought that it’s a crime,
So I will ask you once again.

Try to see it my way,
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong.
While you see it your way
There’s a chance that we might fall apart before too long.

We can work it out,
We can work it out.

I want to give thanks to my girlfriends, Bryn & Tiffany, for the additional support and encouragement this past week.  Also thanks to Mama Kat.  While this isn’t a Whrrl story, it did help motivate me to write it out.  Cheers girls!

No, I want to bask in the (what some would say is) trifling nonsense of New Moon.  Yes, this jen has even coordinated a GNO to celebrate.  I just want to turn myself in and say that yes, I’m swept up in the phenomenon and I’m okay with it.  It’s ridiculous and delicious!  I’m not a member of Twilight Moms, but I’m glad they have each other.  I’m with Sadie, a contributor to Jezebel (I love you, Jez!), let me have my fantasies!  There’s too much reality over here.  I don’t want to defend my squealing inner-thirteen year old.  She rarely rears her head and I’m happy that she’s here.

Even better, I’m looking forward to sharing this experience with my friends (old and new) and the tartlettes and teeny-boppers we’ll be sitting with in the theater.  I dunno it’s like a big mutual crush (whatever team you’re on) that we’re all experiencing together and it’s nice to have those feelings and be able to share them with others.  I guess that’s apart of the appeal too – the sweet innocence that Stephanie Meyers has so undoubtedly captured.  Yeah, it’s corny.  I won’t deny that.  I take delight in the fact that my Sista Sista won’t go because it would be rude to do her Mystery Science 3000 version while at the theater.  But boy oh boy, do I look forward to drinking with her and doing the DVD version of it!  I just like that she respects the mania and will still have fun with it too.

I had better taste in music to have been swept up in the boy band phenom or maybe that’s my snobbery of the time and maybe I’ve lowered my standards.  But no, I shall continue my reluctant defense because of what I read last night in Salon (oh how I love thee!).  Sarah Helpola writes in “Twilight of Our Youth” (funny f’n picture, btw!) about thirtysomething Charlotte who just joined the party after watching Twilight on cable.  I wholeheartedly agree with Charlotte when she says, “Reading is an act of defiance in the world today. I owe Stephenie Meyer a thank you note for reminding me of that.”  I’m an avid reader and am not scared of big books.  However for many to get through the 2400+ pages of the series, I’ll gladly give them that Brownie badge to finish the books with excitement and vigor.  Way to go, girls!  Especially if you have the ‘distraction’ of children, home, husband and work.

Okay, so maybe I will check out Twilight Mom’s reading list, but I won’t sign up.  And maybe I am tempted to buy that darling charm necklace as I’ll admit to the fantasy and think it’s funny (I also love supporting women’s small businesses!).  I didn’t buy a t-shirt for our GNO because, quite frankly, I couldn’t decide whose team I’m on and I don’t want to.  I like it all and I’m happy to share it share it with my inner squealer.  It’s nice to see her again.  Cheers girls (but that’s a virgin daiquiri for her)!

So I went to my 20 year high school reunion this past weekend.  Really there was no reason not to go.  It was within driving distance and I was going to share the hotel room with a friend.  After all, I was reminded over and over from my GBF (who did not attend, btw) that I had missed our 10 year reunion and made him go.  (No, I am not bitter)  Back to the point at hand, I had such a spectacular time and honestly, I am a bit surprised.

My GBF was bound and determined not to go because he felt strongly that the people from high school that were meaningful were already involved in his life.  I think a part of it was that he didn’t want to explain to dozens of people that in fact, he is gay.  That was the question most asked of me when I explained that my GBF and I lived together for years and remained very close.  My answer was always, “Yes he is, but we all already knew that, didn’t we?”  C’mon people.

I saw the reunion as an opportunity to reconnect, share some stories, and hopefully have my mind changed about who I thought people were.  We all had our high school drama growing up, didn’t we?  In high school, we make presumptions about people.  We were friends with some, but not others for stupid reasons.  We categorized people and I’m sure people did the same with me.  I arrived at GHS as a new girl from Texas whose skirt was regulation height, however at my new school there were no teachers measuring skirts.  I will never forget seeing a girl with a bathing suit top covered by a Corona tank top sitting in front of me on my first day of school.  I was both appalled and delighted by the new fashion (or lack thereof) opportunities.  Please know the anxiety of fitting in was always present for this new girl.

The reunion was no exception.  Of course my first thoughts were, “what am I going to wear?!?!”  After charging up a storm to find just the right dress and shoes, I settled on a dress I thought was relaxed and pretty, more fun and less vavavoom.  (Thanks Lola and boys for your input and yes, I returned –reluctantly- the other dresses and shoes.)  Once that was settled, I wanted to give some thought about how to answer the cursory questions one would ask after not seeing you over the last 20 years.  How do you briefly sum up your life so that it’s a bit more funny and refreshing than reporting your status (married w/two children, living in San Diego).  And what questions would I ask?  I only went to GHS for two years, so I was particularly concerned if I was even going to recognize people there, let alone remember their names.  And you should know, that when I moved I landed in a particularly great group of people – friendly, fun, good students in a sheltered suburb of L.A.

I have to say some of the most awkward moments of the reunion were in the beginning.  I felt like a Seinfield episode was playing out in a moment and I was caught between the discomfort and wanting to bust out laughing not knowing what to do.  Let me explain…My friend Kerri, reunion organizer and childhood resident of our town (read: she should know everyone!), hosted a champagne pre-party in her room.  Our group of girlfriends showed up first, but shortly thereafter another group of girls joined the party.  I somewhat recognized them, but should have brushed up on my yearbook to have remembered their names.  They were the more studious girls and had their own clique.  I don’t think I ever really talked to them in school as we were just in different circles.  As they arrived, hugs were going all around, but I was riddled with questions and anxiety!  Look, I’m friendly and love meeting new people, but I froze in etiquette confusion.  To hug or not to hug…that was the question.

What was the appropriate level of greeting enthusiasm for people that I barely knew 20 years ago?  Of course, I automatically leaned in for a mild hug because she’s hugging toward me and I didn’t want it to be weird.  But really, do you hug someone whose name you don’t know in any other circumstance?  Does the shared experience of going the same school or knowing each others’ faces because you were alphabetically arranged near each other for a year (lockers, class rooms, graduation, etc.) grant hug status?  I wasn’t sure and honestly a little freaked out about how to progress through the night.  I decided a friendly hello would be my greeting to those faces that looked somewhat familiar.  I wasn’t going in for the hug unless I really knew them and meant it.  Kerri, during our post-reunion re-hash, laughed about the discomfort of having her picture taken with someone she doesn’t think she said more than a dozen words to in the past 30 years.

I got to say thanks to the guy who asked me on my first date.  I got to offer condolences to a friend whose twin brother had passed away.  I laughed so hard with my prom date and we shared some true confessions over a drink (nothing sexy you dirty minds!).  I was surprised by how incredible the women looked and how some people’s sense of humor never left.  I got to dance with my girls and rehash some great stories.  I let go of some stupid high school grudges and things that were said many years ago.  I gave myself and others an opportunity for a fresh start.  And I learned a new way to chase tequila shots (with tomato juice…kills the burn!).

Looking back over the night, I wish I didn’t hesitate with the hug and I wished I would have figured out the stunning mystery blonde sooner so that I could have talked with her.  Certainly I will always have uncertainty about some things, but I’m okay with it because the night was a great celebration of community and shared experience.  The friends that decided not to go (or couldn’t) were sorely missed.  And yes, my hair was blonde in high school, but hasn’t been for a very long time (the odd and second most asked question of the night).  Cheers GHS and thanks for a great night to remember!

Being a Jennifer is a blessing and a curse. It’s also like a huge sea of strange family. When I meet another Jennifer I always ask her what her middle name is. Do you know how many other Jennifer Lynn’s I have met? At least a dozen over the years…it’s very strange. Sometimes, my doom sets in…is being a Jennifer like being a Seven of Nine? (And yes, it’s very revealing to admit that you watched Star Trek TNG) But I’m a Jen and we’re a whole other class unto ourselves. And that’s what this blog will be about – my life as a Jen…well, I’m not just another Jen.

I’m a mom, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend and a woman who works full time. So forgive me if I don’t write everyday. I’m also getting older, which is a weird trip. And I’m trying to defy my body’s gravity and stay sane, which I’m sure there will be plenty of posts about those topics too.

But before I end this first post I should acknowledge someone who is the source of my second motivation for this blog. There’s a woman that I’ve admired for years and something she said about a decade ago, really stuck with me all this time. A while back, I was working in the leadership development world and she was a participant in the women’s leadership program that I was a part of. She was maybe 26 at the time and during the program deeply solidified that as a writer, she had something important to say to the world and her voice was needed. All I could think of sitting in the back of the room was wow, how great it must be to have that feeling. Well, thank you Cheryl for your inspiration, because now I finally feel like I have something to say.

I hope you enjoy the posts and the occasional pictures. Drop me a line from time to time. Or as they say in the South, “y’all come back now ya hear!”