Mood Swings

Restless. Like the pounding of the sea in that ancient rhythm. The ebb and flow of my life leaves me wanting more. My soul is itchy beneath my skin, desperate for meaning. I look to menial tasks to make me feel like I've accomplished something in a day where my only duty is to answer the phone, answer the email, answer the same question over and over. There's no logic to it. There's no real reason to feel this way. And yet, I do. I need to get out. I need to get away. I need to bury my feet in the sand, lift my face to the sun, and purge discontent. I am restless.

Content. Like wrapping hands around a steaming mug of fresh coffee. It spreads its warmth up through my chest, wrapping me in an embrace as familiar as time. I prop my feet up on my husband's lap, cover us both with the gray-green afghan, and sink into gratification. There's nowhere to be tonight. No deadlines to meet, no tests to cram for, nothing requiring our immediate attention. Brian rubs lazy circles on my calf with his thumb and my eyelids begin to droop. As the moon rises in the sky, I feel my heart fill with unrestricted, absolute love. I am content.

Listless. Like every muscle has turned to water and any spirit once perceived has now dissipated. Lifeless, limbless, I am so much flotsam on a lazy sea. I have no desire to move, no desire to breathe, no desire at all. I float on an air of laziness. The only energy spent is that of the solitary tear drop that ekes from my eye. Questions bounce around in my brain: When is it my turn? When will life stop being so hard? What did I do wrong? A thunderclap outside and all I can think is finally, the weather will match my mood. I am listless.

Hopeful. Like a gull on the edge of the wind, soaring up, up, up into the blue. I place my hands on my belly and close my eyes, imagining what it will be like to feel life move beneath them one day. In the deepest parts of night, I lie awake, eyes barely focused on the popcorn ceiling, and pretend I can hear her cries for me, wailing through the gloom. I can almost trace the swell of her cheeks, the curve of her elbow, the slope of her nose, as if it were my own face in my mind's eye. Hair, thick and dark; eyes the color of rain clouds; fingernails minuscule and translucent: I can see her. How I dream for her. How I wish for her. Knowing that she is still within me, somewhere...I am hopeful.

Hurt. Like a child sent to bed without her supper for no reason she can understand. I am bewildered, rejected, discarded like so much trash. I reexamine everything I ever said, everything I ever did, to deserve this treatment. I turn to those I can still trust, those who love me for who and what I am, those who don't judge me for my misgivings. And still, it is there, in the back of my mind. Each word a weapon, and the silences that are deafening. They seem to go on forever. I've wished for a chance to understand. But I do not. I cannot. And I have to stop trying. For my own sake, for yours. I will retreat to my corner now and lick my wounds. Self-preservation is the only avenue I know now. I am hurt.

Optimistic. Like the very knowledge that the storm will eventually blow over. The bits and pieces will be picked up and put back together again. I will find a way to move past the others and be victorious. My life may not be perfect, but my life is my own. I will live it to the fullest, find a way to dull the aches and overcome the pains. I will revel in my love, my family, my friends. I will write and write and write, peeling away a layer each time I hit "publish." I will laugh too loudly, love too fiercely, and live too largely. I will be okay. I am optimistic.

I am linking up with Yeah Write today,

because it's not very often that I'm in a serious 

mood, and so it should be recorded

for posterity.

A Princess Party for Two

Reason number eleventy hundred and twenty one why I adore Twitter---it gives me the opportunity to talk to other bloggers. Case in point: about a week ago, I was perusing my Twitter feed when I noticed friend and fellow blogger, Laverne, from Kindred Adventures, was tweeting about a somewhat boring experience at a child's birthday party. I jumped in, hoping to give her a reason to giggle. 


And our conversation led to this blog post.


And so, without further ado, I'm thrilled to give you my very first co-blog, written by Laverne and illustrated by yours truly. Please enjoy!

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     

White mock-vintage mirrors hung on the purple walls. A table in the middle of the room held china place settings, ready for a tea party. A small stage in the back of the room waited to be filled with 5-year-olds dressed as princesses. Rock-n-roll musical chairs, Justin Bieber, hip-hop-hokey-pokey and Taylor Swift pulsated continuously. Smiles painted their faces and rosy cheeks, glitter and giggles and screeches showed their happiness. A room holding racks of princess dresses, rows and rows of bedazzled shoes, pails of crowns and containers of wands waited to transport the girls from a birthday party to the world of princesses.

I sunk into the yellow paisley embroidered couch. My daughter didn't want me to leave. (I had planned on dropping her off and then heading over to a coffee shop for some "me" time.) I was here at the Princess Party for the duration...two long hours. Sigh. The smell of bubble gum perfume, children's lip gloss and nail polish saturated the room. The music intertwined with the eardrum-piercing screeching left me of thoughts of my own. I took out my phone and began to tweet. 

I tweeted some more...and still, nothing.

Then, there she was...Abby.

Now it was my turn to smile.

"How are you? What are you up to?" I was happy to find a friendly face that might help make the time fly by.

"Just finished a great run. All good here! How are you?" she happily replied.

"I'm at a princess party right now and hopefully soon, a few beverages, some dinner, and bed!" I shared.

"Aw, man!," Abby tweeted giddily. "I wanna have a princess party!" 

My imagination began to drift. Suddenly I felt like I was with Abby in one of her drawings. Just what would it be like if our life was like a Princess Party?

Of course, the hardest thing we'd have to do in the morning would be just to get out of bed. Our hair, nails, and makeup would be done for us.

Too much glitter and enough sequins--enough to blind a person--would be all the rage. The second hardest thing we would do would be to decide which of the rows and rows of sequins, puffy, fluffy layered dressed we wanted to wear that day.

Our day would be spent twirling in our dresses and hanging out with other princesses, doing what princesses do best.

"Mommy....Mooommmyyy......MOMMY!"

My daydream crashed around me. "Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go potty."

Sigh.

It was glittery and sparkly and wonderful.....while it lasted!

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Princess dresses, tiaras, and Jose Cuervo...you guys KNOW I had a blast working on this project with Laverne!!! I hope you'll check out her awesome blog, co-written with best pal, Shirley. And I hope that one day soon, Laverne and I will be able to have a real life Princess Party...without Justin Bieber. (Just sayin'.)

Today we're linking up with Yeah Write.

Because we have a feeling that there are some

other closeted princesses out there in the

blogosphere that might like to join us for

a royal margarita...or two...

Weekend Warriors (An Illustrated Abby Gabs)

Sundays are Professional Family Days for us. When I say that we have it down to an art, it's not an exaggeration. A typical Sunday consists of Dad's famous country breakfast, time outside with the dogs, a grocery trip (or two, depending on how much beer is left in the fridge from Saturday night), dinner on the grill, and inevitably, a bonfire.


It's pretty perfect. I look forward to Sundays from Monday morning until Saturday night. We will occasionally have a variation on the above-mentioned formula, and that's ok. But for the most part, my Sundays are pretty much always the same.


Except for this past weekend.


We'd easily gotten through breakfast and a grocery trip without incident. There was even a quick jaunt to Sam's Club thrown in the mix, just to spice things up a bit. By the time the sun went down, Adam decided it was time to start our weekly bonfire. And so, Daddy, Adam, Brian and I headed out to the back yard, while Mom finished cleaning up the evening's dishes.


Things started out normal enough. Adam started a pretty low-key fire, burning a few cardboard boxes and an old pallet. We sat around, sipped our beer, and let the warmth of the fire lull us the rest of the way into a full-blown food-coma.

After about 30 minutes (and a few more beers), Adam made the announcement that he had a pile of stuff in the garage he needed to burn. Brian and I glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, as Adam rounded the corner with another pallet and several more cardboard boxes. Dad hummed along with Garth Brooks in his picnic chair, totally relaxed and oblivious to what was coming next.


Namely, Laid Back Adam was now being replaced with Fire Bug Adam. And Dad was none the wiser.

It didn't take me long to figure out, despite my slight beer haze, that Adam's plans may go a bit awry. Especially after he launched Pallet Number One onto the already-blazing fire. Brian was right there with me. Somewhere between Pallet Number One and Pallet Number Two, Dad started to catch on, too. 

But it wasn't until Mom (also known as The Voice Of Reason) joined us that panic began to set in.

You see, there's a small tree that overhangs the fence in my parents' back yard. And the flames from Adam's bonfire were just beginning to lick the very bottom branches. Sparks flew up into the night sky each time my baby brother would add a new cardboard box to the inferno. And we'd all been nonchalantly waiting for one of those embers to catch, and for the tree to go up in flames.


Eleven words from my mother and the entire family jumped into action, like characters in a cartoon.

Brian, always prepared, had his phone at the ready, fingers poised to dial 9-1-1 at a moment's notice.


Adam sprinted across the yard, hauling the water hose behind him, shouting, "Dad! Dad! Go turn on the water!!!"


Mom and I jumped behind Brian, to protect ourselves from errant flames that may decide to dance on our heads.


And Dad stood calmly by the conflagration now threatening his tree and, ultimately, his garage, and directed Adam as to where to point the hose.


Ten minutes later, crises averted, we were back in our chairs around the fire, enjoying our frosty beverages, tree still (mostly) in tact.


I can't wait until next Sunday.

I'm linking up with Yeah Write this week,

because I'm hoping someone out in the

blogosphere will appreciate how much

my drawing has improved, thanks to 

the handy dandy Draw Something app. 

I've been practicing!!

Make sure you stop by and read the other

fantastic blogs that are linking up, as well!

Adding Another Resolution to 2012

Ever have one of those conversations that makes you stop and think? The kind that sticks with you hours, even days, after its conclusion? I had one of those conversations recently, with my husband and my friend, Dana.


Topic: The possible end of the world.
Question: If it all ended tomorrow, and you had a moment of knowledge that the end was coming, would you be ok? Happy? Satisfied?


When Dana posed this question to me, my gut reaction was NO. (Followed by my deepest hope that the end of the world doesn't mean a zombie apocalypse. Because zombies creep me out.)


I have to much to do for my life to just end in a <POOF.> Too many things I haven't accomplished yet. Too many dreams I haven't fulfilled. Would I go into that moment kicking and screaming, shaking my fists at the universe? (Or the Mayans?)

Maybe the Mayans just had a warped sense of humor.

As Dana and my husband talked about how they felt about the (impossible) situation, I found myself listing all those things in my head. Those things that plague me everyday, just out of reach.

List of Things I Don't Have Yet

(But still really want, thereby making the end of the world even more sucky.)

*Kids

*A job I love

*My own house
*A second car

*A published book

*A million dollars (yes, I realize that's a bit of a stretch)

The thought of not fulfilling these dreams makes me a little panicky. I've waited so long! I've been so patient! It's almost within our grasp! With the conversation still going on around me, I focus on steadying my breathing, calming my rapid heart rate. It's not going to happen, Abby, I tell myself. The Mayans just ran out of rock. We'll be celebrating 2013 with Ryan Seacrest and the giant sparkly ball with everyone else on the planet come December 31st.

Moments later, I confess my answer to the question to Brian and Dana. I feel guilty saying it. Ungrateful. 

"No."

I say that it's not that I am not appreciative for what I do have, it's just that I want more. "Everybody wants more, Abby," Dana says wisely. 

And that's when Brian says it. The thing that I'll mull over for hours, even days, far after the conversation has ended. The thing that, at first, hurts my feelings until I realize the truth behind the statement.

"Abby tends to focus more on what we don't have. 

It makes it harder for her to see what we DO have."

Oof.

And yet, it's true.

I lie awake at night, imagining what my life would be like if I could turn off that maternal desire to have a baby. How much happier I'd be if I could stop yearning. I pass by houses with "For Sale" signs in the yard and am bitter that I don't have one of my own. I get up at the crack of dawn to schlep my husband to and from work, grumbling all the way about my own lack of transportation. I talk about the book I'm writing, and the other one I've got floating around in my head, with gusto (even though I haven't touched my manuscript since Thanksgiving.)

With his words bouncing around in my head, I've spent the day berating myself for this flaw in my personality. Asking myself if I strive too much (or plan too much) for the future, thereby letting today pass me by. And I started listing all the things in my life that I DO have, (for my reference, and Brian's.)

List of Things I Do Have

(Thereby making my life awesomely awesome)

*A steady, healthy relationship with a man I admire and trust.
*A family that supports me, loves me, and makes me laugh.
*Friends who appreciate me for me, no matter my flaws.
*Four cats who let me hug them, even when they don't want to be hugged.

*A job that allows me to follow my true passion--writing.

It's not as if I don't know how blessed I am in life. I just want more. More, more, more.

Does that make me greedy? Selfish? Ungrateful?

Or does that make me normal?

Regardless, I've decided to add a new resolution for 2012. I'm going to stop focusing so much on the things we don't have and spend more time in the moment, loving everything we DO have.

Including, but not limited to, my Twitter follow by Donnie Wahlberg.

Because that belongs on the list, too.