September 20, 2008

who says stuff won’t make you happy?

God you people are nice.  As my husband would say, you’re nicer than Gandhi.  (I think that’s from The Simpsons, maybe, from like ten years ago.)

I so appreciate all the thoughtful comments and emails, everything from yes yes I hear you! to actual constructive (and kind!) suggestions for finding happiness.  And book recommendations, too — I’m a sucker for books and I will be checking out all the titles you all sent me.

Thank you.

I’m feeling a little bit like I have too much going on (I can hear you rolling your eyes over there, knock it off) and it has occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, that’s part of the problem (again, knock it off with the eye rolling).  So I’m going to get rid of some stuff and see if that helps.  Physical stuff, yes (I have a Give Away bag going in my closet again) but also less tangible stuff — I quit one of my jobs this past week, which is honestly nice, and I’m working on saying NO when people ask me to volunteer for things (holy hell that one is hard though).

Aside: Oprah did a show on saying no, or something like that, probably two years ago.  She talked about how she says no to requests; she tells people that she needs to pray about whatever it is they are asking for, because this gives her time to think, instead of answering right away, when she’s more likely to say yes to something she can’t, or doesn’t want, to do.  And then, she said, when she comes back and says no to the request, it’s hard for people to argue, because she prayed about it and Jesus said no.

Who can argue with Jesus?  I think I’m going to start using that one.  I think it will totally work in Oklahoma.

Amen.

Anyway, in the meantime, I’m looking for the happy in little things (hey I think you all suggested that …) and since I’m all about sharing, and I feel a little bad for possibly oversharing yesterday, here are a few things that are making me happy.  Or happy-ish.  Or not unhappy.  Whatever.

JK Jemma Kidd Color-Adapt Lip Gloss.  Custom lip color for $20.00!  Woo!  Use this as base for your regular gloss; it lasts longer and gives a more intense color.  Yes I have over thought this, why do you ask?

J. Crew tailored wool Carrie dress.  Arriving Tuesday.  In two sizes, just in case.  Now I need to plan a party, don’t you think, so I’ll have somewhere to wear the LBD.  Or maybe I’ll just toss it on for carpool — why not?!?

The Lucky Guide to Mastering Any Style.   Advance copy!  Also arranging an interview with Kim France.  I have died and gone to Fashion Magazine Heaven.

Starbucks Banana Chocolate Vivanno.   Because it’s healthy AND delicious, or at least more so than the mocha frappuchino that I used to get.  And I believe this is the Official Beverage of Fashion Magazine Heaven.

Your turn — what stuff is making you happy(ish) these days?  Humor me — clearly I need it.

September 19, 2008

please define “happy”

One morning not too long ago, I was sitting at the table with the boys while they ate breakfast. Charlie was swinging his feet and waving his spoon in the air; I probably asked him to stop doing both and just eat his cereal, please.  And he pointed his spoon at me and said, “Mommy, are you happy?”

I stared at him.  “What?”

“Are you HAPPY?” he repeated, taking a bite of cereal.  “Right now — are you happy?”

I continued to stare.

“Of COURSE she’s happy,” Henry said. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

Yes.  Why wouldn’t I be happy?

I use a lot of words during the day to describe myself — busy, anxious, listening, thinking, working, stressed, interested, finished, behind — but happy is almost never on the list.  To some extent, of course, this has to do with the conventions of conversation; when someone calls and says, “How are you?” it’s not really appropriate to say, “Happy!” unless you want them to think you’ve been drinking before lunch.

Which I never do, for the record.

The other day I ran into a friend and said, of course, “How are things going?”  She sighed and said, “Oh, fine.  Fine!  Everything is fine!  That’s what I’m supposed to say, isn’t it?”  “Yes,” I said, “I suppose it is, but how are things REALLY?”

Not so fine, it turns out.

It is hard to find the opening to say, I am not happy.  It is especially hard, I think, when there is nothing really going on that justifies not being happy.  You know, no financial catastrophe or lingering illness or collapsing marriage.

Still.  Happy is not on my list most days.

Why would I not be happy?  I don’t know, I really don’t.  I have great kids and a fantastic husband and a beautiful home; we have plenty of money and good health insurance and stable jobs.  Our parents are healthy, the kids are doing well in school, the lawn is finally looking good.  What is there not to be happy about?

I would not say that I am unhappy.  Tired, yes, certainly.  Frustrated, irritated, some other words that end in -ated, probably. But unhappy?  No.  Just not happy.  And yes, those are two different things, I think, although I can’t explain that just now, just like I can’t think of those other -ated words that I also am every day.

I don’t remember specifically which day it was that Charlie pointed his spoon at me and asked if I was happy, but I can tell you this for certain about that morning: I had gotten up early, before 5:00 am, to make lunches and check email and possibly start laundry or load the dishwasher.  By the time I sat down at the table with the kids, I had been up for close to two hours and had probably drunk close to four cups of coffee.  I was most likely making a grocery list or filling out forms for school or making notes about things that absolutely had to get done that day.  How do I know all of that if I don’t know what day it was?  Because every morning is like that, pretty much, even the weekends.

I can see why someone might wonder if I was happy.

I would love to say that I’m doing something constructive to get back to being happy, that I’m knitting or running or taking bubble baths, but the thing is that I think I only just realized that I was missing happy.  I suppose the first step is to deal with all those other things on the list — anxious and behind and frustrated and tired.  I think that happy is under there somewhere.  At least I hope it is, because now that I know it’s gone I really want it back.

September 17, 2008

I would like to buy Jillian Michaels a hot fudge sundae

Everyone I know is doing this 30 Day Shred workout — do you know about this?  Apparently the short version is this: Jillian Michaels kicks your ass for 20 minutes a day, you can’t walk for the first week, you eat everything in sight, and after a month you look like Elle MacPherson.

Yeah, whatEVER.  I don’t need that — I have the Unrelenting Stress of two jobs and two kids and a husband who just announced that he’s buying a new car (this week, even!) to keep me thin.

Good god.

A variety of things, other than the 30 Day Shred, have been kicking my ass recently.  Yesterday Charlie came home from school and plugged up the toilet in the downstairs bathroom, causing it to overflow EVERYWHERE.  I had to choose between wading into the muck in my very expensive Jack Rogers sandals or taking them off and walking into the bathroom in my BARE FEET (you do NOT want to know what I chose — god I don’t even want to think about it).

Henry followed up the Toilet Incident by spending ninety minutes doing his homework, and before you say oh my god how much homework does he HAVE? let me tell you that I’m pretty sure it takes all the other kids in second grade about eight minutes to do the homework because they’re not stopping after every single math problem to recap the plot of Star Wars (The Original Trilogy).  Twice.

At some point I gave up and started drinking.  Seriously.  Because what else was I supposed to do?

Charlie woke me up at 4:30 this morning with a bloody nose, which is always a nice way to start the day.  By the time I got him all unbloodied, it was time for me to make coffee and check email and start my day.

Tonight I took Henry to soccer practice and decided to sit in the car because a) I was too crabby to hang out with the other parents, and b) I was pretty sure I would wind up yelling at my kid if I were outside where I thought he could hear me.  So instead I watched from my Honda as he ran lap after lap because apparently the words PAY ATTENTION are not in his very large vocabulary.

Pretty much the last three weeks have been just like that (although with more homework and less raw sewage and blood) and honestly, it is kicking my ass.  My jeans, which were all too tight at the beginning of the month, fit again, which is a good thing, I guess, if only because I’m getting to skip the part of the 30 Day Shred where I can hardly stand up straight and can’t bring my knees together.  At this rate, I will be a size 0 by November.

See?   LITERALLY kicking my ass.  Dude.

September 15, 2008

blurry (like my weekend)

This is my friend Christa, reading about herself.

Thanks to everyone who came and bought the book!

(Very tired from the weekend — Heather made me stay up WAY too late.  She also MADE me eat Sonic and go shoe shopping, which was actually awesome now that I think about it.)

September 10, 2008

why, is there something else I should be worried about?

I spent an hour this morning Googling everything in my makeup bag to make sure that it was all non comedogenic; the dermatologist gave me a Strict Talking To the other day about how important that was.  You know right before he shot me in the face with liquid nitrogen.

(Aside: Prescriptives Camouflage Cream is the BOMB — total coverage, or at least enough that no one has said OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED?!?  And yes, I totally went for the concealer yesterday because I am shallow.  Get over it.)

So I’ve been using Clinique’s Super CityBlock (SPF 40!) for years; it has a nice light (slightly reflective) tint that stands in for foundation.  Unfortunately, it appears that perhaps THIS is what is exacerbating my acne.

Good to know!

I dug around in my Free Samples Cabinet (yes, I have a Free Samples Cabinet, don’t you?) and found some Aveeno sunscreen that was CLEARLY labeled “non comedogenic” and put that on.  But I’m feeling pretty eh about it (not tinted! just plain! not helping!).  So now I’m all obsessed with finding a non comedogenic tinted sunscreen.

God my life is hard.

Also: I realized today that I really REALLY need a haircut, or at least a bang trim, but there’s no time this week.  Fortunately, HeatherB is coming for the weekend, and I’m thinking I can get her to cut it (shh don’t tell her, you might scare her). I think she could do it, I really do.

We’ll take pictures, I promise.

And one more also!  Keeping the whoa-I-am-shallow vibe going this week is this: I’ve been road testing shapewear (you know, SPANX!) which involves wearing the damn things ALL DAY.  All of you all who are hooked on Mad Men?  You do NOT want to be wearing what those girls were wearing.  Spanx is a HUGE improvement over a girdle, but it’s still not for everday wear.

And last but not least is THIS: in a Super Secret BlogHer project (that you will find out about on Monday anyway) I’ve been shopping with local OKC bloggers.  Like GOING SHOPPING!  For fun stuff!  And having someone else pay for it all! And I am torn between LOVING my job (shopping! with someone else’s money!) and thinking that Clinton and Stacey work really REALLY hard.

And now I have to go put some lipstick on a pit bull, or something like that.

(Book signing!  Saturday!  11:15 at The Full Circle!  Please come — I’ll show you my shoes …)

September 8, 2008

I feel pretty (or I will in six to eight weeks)

I went to the dermatologist this morning.  No, nothing is wrong, unless you can count my obsession with the teeny tiny lines around my eyes and over my top lip and the dark patches on my cheeks and my pores OH MY GOD MY PORES!!!

God my life is hard.

The dermatologist wrote me a couple of prescriptions and gave me some advice about products and then whipped out a can of liquid nitrogen and froze three spots off  my face.  Before he did it, he explained that for the next week to ten days I will look like crap (scabbing! possible blistering! on my CHEEKS!) but then the skin will slough off and heal and NO MORE DARK SPOTS.

And I was so excited about the prospect of perfect skin that I said, “Hey, I’m here, you’ve got the blow torch out, let’s do it!”  And he did.

And THEN I remembered that I have a book signing on Saturday.  Whoops.

(Because I am shallow I asked the nurse when I could start putting concealer on the burned spots and she said, “Oh honey, TOMORROW if you want,” which was a BIG relief although I’ll probably wait until Saturday to let them heal, you know, because I want my skin to be PERFECT.  Shallow.  Seriously.)

Tonight, Wade came home from work and held out his arm and said gleefully, “Look!  I have hives!”  God we are so hott.