It's STILL Winter...

Even though I woke up early with the kids yesterday, I didn't find myself openning the blinds until nearly noon. I was taken aback - stupid, I know - by the overcast sky and the fresh two inches of snow blanketing the ground. I don't know what I had been expecting. This is the Midwest. It's January. I've lived in this climate my entire life. I completely know better than to expect any kind of shortened winter. Even so, I was knocked down a few pegs, my heart sinking into the frozen ground. I want spring. I crave warmth. I thrive on sweet, sweet sunshine.

I turned away from the window and hunkered down on the couch, burrowed in a fleece blanket, and closed my eyes. I transported myself to a better place, a warmer place, and no, it wasn't some tropical beach. Instead I found myself smack-dab in middle of Milwaukee in July, the muggy air sticking uncomfortably to my skin and the smell of rain stirring in the air around me. Sitting on a concrete ground with my back against a retaining wall and my extraordinary friend, T, by my side, I sipped on a plastic glass of cheap wine, the sweat of it seaping through my fingers. Having seven kids between the two of us, we managed to pass off our motherly duties to our significant others to spend the day at the lakefront listening to music. As we sat and chatted about anything and everything, except motherhood (tsk-tsk... we were trying to take a much needed break from that "title" for awhile, though), a storm hit. Hoards of people ran for cover under the roof where we sat. We could barely hear each other over the music and the hundreds of people packed in such a tiny area, so we continued to sip and laugh and sip some more. It was glorious.

When a band that we had waited for all day was nearing their concert time, we looked at each other, knowing we'd have to run for it to the uncovered stage, as the storm was still going strong. It wasn't even up for discussion. We were there to hear music, and by God, that's what we intended on doing. Never had playing in the rain felt so liberating! By the time we paid way to much for a Miller Lite rain poncho, we were already soaked. It was all I could do to keep from constantly shaking my head, thinking "My God, if my kids could see me now!" I think we managed to get one photo of the two of us before we were completely drenched, a crappy photo at that, but to this day it brings a stupid-ass grin to my face! (Thanks, T! ♥ you!)

So, when the long, frigid, gray days of winter get me low, low down, I click my heels three times and jump back to brighter days, knowing that they will once again be upon me. I just have to hold tight... just a bit longer...

For all my fellow freaky friends out there, raise your glass if you're wrong in all the right ways! (yup - borrowed that line from Pink...) Cheers! *clink*

Confessions of a Young Soul

I was watching "The Real Housewives of Orange County" today. Why? I don't know. They completely piss me off with their crazy-ass attitudes and their fake bodies and their sheer abundance of everything materialistic. Nonetheless, I sat there, soaking them in, wasting an hour of my day. Thoroughly wasting it. I had laundry to do, a house to clean, bills to pay, dinner to think about. Yet, there I sat, daydreaming about their problems. ("We should really sell one of our homes or our yacht... we don't really need to be spending so much money every month on places we don't even sleep in and toys we don't play with...") Boo-hoo. I feel so bad for you!

It got me thinking, though, about the whole "Keeping up with the Joneses" thing. It bugs me to no end that so many people feel the need to keep up with their neighbors. If anything, I feel the desire to be the opposite of mine; the freaks of the neighborhood, the family that the neighbors shake their heads at as we drive away each weekend while they mull endlessly in their yards. I want to live. To hell with a manicured yard. The image of perfect surburbia be damned.

My kids came early in my life. Married at 23, right out of college, all three of them were born by the time I turned 29. I gave up my twenties and the first half of my thirties entirely. At 37, I want to rejoin the living world. I want a life outside of dirty diapers and endless homework and chauferring kids to way-too-expensive club sports. I want to explore the world; breathe in fresh air, see the beauty that lies beyond the cookie-cutter homes with their pristine facades and blooming landscape. I want my kids to see it, too. I want them to love the wild, erractic ways that the forests grow, the majestic peaks that jut skyward from the Earth. I want them to be lulled to sleep by roaring waters from their cozy mummy bags in our cramped tent. I want to smell the heavy mix of firewood and pine that permeates our clothes and get annoyed by the sand that sneaks its way into everything we own. I want to live off the grid... yet what am I doing? Diving deeper into technology - the antichrist of nature! I'm blogging!

In all fairness, there is a happy medium. And I find that I'm always in search of it; teetering back and forth between what I want to do and what I should do. Can you have both? I sure as hell hope so! Otherwise my hubby and I are barking up the wrong tree. That would suck. And as much as I want to expand our horizons as a family, what I really feel I'm in need of is an expansion of myself.

I feel myself regressing - reverting back into the life I would have had in my twenties had I not been elbow deep in motherhood. I'm rediscovering some of my old passions and finding many new ones to dive into. I've been to more concerts in this last year than all my previous years combined. My daughter, thirteen and a bit of an old soul, accompanies me to most of them. I drag a few of my friends along, too, kicking and screaming (yeah - right!). Having their young souls in my life makes me feel vindicated - less of a freak for wanting to be who I am and live the life I want to live. God bless them!

So why am I sharing all of this? Why have I decided to blog about it? Hell if I know! Guess it's just another whimsy, one more thing to keep me from falling back into the trap of being everybody's everything and more of the individual that I am. The girl my hubby fell in love with. The woman my kids can admire for being true to herself. If I'm fortunate enough to live a very long life, I want my grown children and grandchildren to say, "She was the best - such a young soul!"