All I Want For Christmas . . .

is to be healthy.

I was so so excited for Christmas this year.

The Tiny Human was, like, really getting it. 

The anticipation for Ho-Ho to come, the story of Baby Jesus . . .

all of it.

And then we all came down with the plague.

And instead of sparkle and magic and fairy dust,

there was Kleenex and Mucinex and the cool, wet vapor from our Froggy humidifier.

Blah.

I missed Christmas Eve church for the first time in my entire life. 

We sort of did presents, but it was a totally pathetic attempt, really.

We've spent three days in jammies, tucked away in our germ-infested cave of a room,

wiping noses, forcing down fluids, and sleeping in drug-induced comas.

So needless to say, I was starting to feel a bit grinchy and bitter about the whole thing.

And then I decided I needed to start changing my perspective. 

2014 has been a lot of this type of thing-

unexpected chaos that thwarts my otherwise grand plans for life,

let down and hurt and disappointment.

But I wonder if if has to be that way . . .

or if I am letting life get the best of me.

Silver linings.

That's what 2015 is going to be about.

Finding the good. 

Being grateful for what is, not what isn't.

And even though we didn't really get to do Christmas like I had planned,

in some ways,

it was it's own sort of magical.

I got three days of rest and non-stop cuddling with my girl.

I didn't get out of jammies, and that's something to celebrate.

And I got to watch almost every single one of my favorite Christmas movies.

Along with the Polar Express and The Grinch about a hundred times a piece.

So not too shabby after all.

Moustached Llamas and Other Christmas-y Magic

Did you know Christmassy is a real word?

As in totally legit and in the dictionary.

And by dictionary, of course I mean a real dictionary, not the Urban Dictionary or Unwords.com.

I use the word all the time but I have always assumed it was just a weirdo part of mine and LakeGirl's made up language. 

Because we actually have one of those, you know.

But it's real. 

Downside is... the real word is spelled Christmassy. 

{pause . . . crickets . . .}

I left some blank space there so everyone could take their time getting to the conclusion I hope you all reach.

Are you there yet?

ChristmASSy

You can't have ass in Christmas-y. 

The word literally means exploding with magic and happiness because it's Christmas. 

That does not include an ass.

Anyway. 

This is why I choose to spell it like this- Christmas-y. 

With a nice little hyphen and one less "s" so we can avoid this whole ass business and just focus on what an amazeballs adjective Christmas-y is because as I said before it means magic and twinkle lights and all things Christmas. 

There just isn't an ass in Christmas-y.

I absolutely love, love, love this time of year.

Love.

Love Love.

I've struggled a little bit since getting married because I unintendedly (not sure that's a real word) married Ebeneezer Scrooge and sometimes despite my best efforts to feel all warm, fuzzy and magical about Christmas-y things, his grumplestiltskin self sort of sucks the happiness out of it.

I didn't put up a tree for my daughter's first Christmas. 

I remember being all jazz hands and Christmas carol singing under my breath as I chattered on and on about hiking into the woods to find the perfect pine.

In return, I got a blank stare and a grunt. 

I know I should have cheerfully said "Bah Humbug"

 and set off to make Christmas magic on my own . . .

 but it's just so hard to keep up the energy and happiness when you get absolutely none of it in return. 

So instead I turned my Christmas switch off and stopped trying.

I know I can't do that anymore. 

Because my daughter deserves the chance to experience this magic. 

So I'm gonna give her magic.

Christmas-y magic things come in all shapes and sizes.

Including turquoise pajamas with scarf-wearing Llamas. 

Who also happen to have tiny little Hitler-moustaches.

You see, this is why Christmas time is the most magical time of the year.

Because there is magic and happiness and an extra scoopful of joy in absolutely everything.

You just have to chose to see it.

In other magical news, I'm going to quit my day job and start a present wrapping business.

Probably not for real, but I do dream about it . . .

Things that bring me joy. 

The Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee. If you haven't been,

go now.

Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

Just get there.

I got to be there last week for a seminar and I actually just stood in the lobby doing nothing for about 15 minutes.

I hoped that by standing there long enough perhaps Christmas would seep into my veins. 

I think it worked. 

We also enjoyed Christmas-y magic in the anticipation of a visit from St. Nick.

When I was a kid, instead of stockings, we left out shoes. 

At some point, I came up with the genius idea to leave out one of my dad's shoes instead of my own.

He wore a men's size 12, which clearly trumped the size of my own footwear. 

I'm pretty sure I thought I had pulled a fast-one on the man in the red,

since he would have to bring more presents to fill up the giant shoe I had left by the fireplace.

In the end, my trickery was for naught . . .

 I got the same amount of loot as my little sister,

who of course I enthusiastically encouraged to leave out her own peanut-sized shoe.

Model older sibling I was . . .

The Tiny Human left out her little boot and was absolutely thrilled to find it chock-full on the morning of the 6th.

Some of the goodies were actually courtesy of her fairy godmother, LakeGirl.

I mean, who else would track down the only Christmas book in the world about a unicorn?!?

Such a win.

Somehow the month is half past . . .

and another year is threatening to be a part of history in no time at all.

How does this happen?!!

I swear, I swear I make a conscious effort to slow down, and soak it in . . .

but time marches on.

I've always thought this life of ours is never quite long enough.

And then I read this on a card the other day . . .

Life is long. It is living we risk being short on.

Christmas-y magic. 

Living every single moment you've got. 

And what better way to really start this business about living than with threads like this that speak the truth. 

Thankful(ish)

Hi. 

Remember me? Likely not . . .

since I sort of just disappeared for a month or so. 

But here I am. The pretend girl, who pretends to blog, albeit very infrequently.

But I will be better about that.

Or I won't. Meh.

So I figured nothing screams "Welcome back to my blog!" better than a whiny, woe-is-me sort-of depressing and much too heavy post. 

So let's get to it, shall we?

I know this. 

I swear to the sweet baby Jesus, I really, really do.

And 99% of the time, if I just take a deep breath, or two, or three,

I can snap myself out of whatever funk I might be in and drag myself out from under the black cloud I am convinced has rooted itself perfectly in place over my head, 

and find a way to see some sunshine. 

But then there's the little bitch 1% where I just. can't.

And wouldn't you know, my inability to get over myself and be really, really thankful for the amazing things in my life happens to take root the day before the holiday where we are supposed to take stock of the blessing in our life.

Very funny, fates. 

Your timing is impeccable. 

Truth be told . . . for the last . . . well, let's just leave the amount of time part a secret.

For the last (fill in the blank), I've so very much wanted to answer the question,

"Are you okay?" like this . . .

And since we're all in the whole tree of trust, spill your honest soul zone right now,

I will admit I am being a little melodramatic. Ish.

In an effort to feel less like I do now and more anything other than I do now,

I am not going to get into all of the details. But the long and short of it is this . . .

I've lost hope, which means when things get tough, and lately that's most of the time,

I struggle mightily to believe that "this too shall pass." Because it never does.

I just feel defeated.

And stuck.

And I am scared to death that I am not making the most of this all-too-short life we are given.

I'm smart enough to take stock of the things that are making me feel this way,

and yet I am a total chicken when it comes to making the choices that I think, and probably know, I need to make to do anything to change it.

So I'm stuck. On repeat. 

And I am thoroughly exhausted. 

The Tiny Human is the source of most of this exhaustion . . .

I started seeing a child psychologist a few weeks ago to help me deal with her explosive, manic, fiercely stubborn personality,

but I think the road ahead of us is reaaaaaaaly long when it comes to managing and hopefully changing her behavior.

So there you have it.

But I pinky-swear promise cross-my-heart that this little place of ours isn't going to be a constant dumping ground for my weary heart.

It's just that now and then it's sort of cathartic to release some of this stuff,

even if it's only onto a computer screen and out into the world where no one will ever really hear it. 

It's out there. And that's enough.

And just like, we're back to the fun-loving, light-hearted magical this place should be.

I present me, pregnant with my turkey baby. 

So here goes: there really is a lot to be thankful for. And I know that.

So despite my exhaustion and the nagging sadness in my heart,

this year, when I count my blessings, I will be especially grateful for these things:

Health. My own. My daughter's. My family's. Life has it struggles and obstacles and challenges, and that is simply unavoidable. But the people I love are healthy and they're here. They're living and breathing and able to fight back when the world tosses a curve ball their way. 

I am so very grateful for that.

My job and the people I am so very lucky to work with every day. It's not the paycheck or the insurance or the fringe benefits (although I am thankful for all of that stuff too) . . . it's being able to come to work everyday and truly enjoy the people I am surrounded by. It's the opportunity to become better at what I do every day because of the willingness of my partners to teach me. And it's the chance, the privilege really, to be a voice for people who need someone to speak up for them. To take someone who is broken, and help them fit their pieces back together. My job is all sorts of crazy stressful but it's all sorts of crazy good stuff too. And I'm grateful. 

Elastic-waisted sweatpants.

You know, to accommodate my turkey-impregnation.

(I can't end on all too serious note, now can I?)

One Rule

If you've seen The Fault in Our Stars,

you know what an encouragement is.

Like Augustus' mom, I enjoy seeing encouragements in the spaces I spend the most time in. 

I have a wall in my office with a bunch of giant canvas black-and-white photos of the Tiny Human. 

And I just recently added this encouragement below her pictures:

I need to be better at this. 

Be your wild courageous brilliant self every single day.

No matter what.

I have found, at least for me, it's easiest to be this most awesome version of myself when I am surrounded with equally brilliant and wild people.

Like LakeGirl, for one. Or my favorite people from law school. 

Morning Jo, mean-mugging' style

Last weekend, I sneaked away for the day and got to reconnect with a few of my soul mates. 

I haven't seen my friend, Count, since we graduated, which is totally unacceptable but life has just gotten in the way. But we finally found a way to connect and it was amazingly wonderful.

We fell back in to place like we had just seen each other, 

when in reality almost four years have gone by. 

Friends like that are the bestest.

It's so hard to describe, but my heart just felt happy the entire time I was "back home."

We spent some time at an old fave hang-out,

Atwater Beach.

The colors in Wisconsin this time of year are my favorite.

You can see why it's so true when I say my favorite color is October.

We also acted like ridiculous weirdos and made an obscene number of slo-mo videos on the beach.

LakeGirl had her new iPhone and we sort of stumbled across the slo-mo video feature and let's just say we rocked it like a boss. 

Think Chariots of Fire. 

Literally. 

It was that awesome. 

We also hit up the best burger/bloody Mary joint in the whole city . . .

and got to witness this beast going down at the table across from us.

Holy Moses- 

that's an entire deep fried chicken, 

two mini cheeseburgers and skewers galore of other meats and cheeses and creatures-of-the-sea.

I really, really wanted to pose with the Bloody Beast but my friends assured me that would be all sorts of awkward and weird, which is likely why I wanted to do it. 

You know, 

Be your wild courageous brilliant self every single day.

My intentions were good.

So instead of creeping on a bunch of random people's dinner,

I just consumed about ten pounds of frickles at my own table. 

What's a frickle, you ask?

A gift from the gods.

It's a deep fried pickle french-fry. 

And eating ten pounds of them?

Brilliant.

Don't Forget To Be Awesome

Until about three months ago, give or take, 

I didn't really drink coffee.

You know, like straight-up, black, plain-Jane coffee. 

As in, "Hello barista sir. I will have a coffee, please."

I have previously talked about my obsession with Starbucks,

but my pre-three-ish-months-ago order was all sorts of jacked-up weirdness,

with the root source of said weirdness being a latte.

I loved sitting in coffee shops, but not because they made coffee.

I bought a sweatshirt that said in all big, bold letters "COFFEE" even though I didn't drink coffee.

I would invite people to "meet me for coffee," but I wouldn't actually get coffee.

I know. It's all sorts of oxymoronic madness. 

But that's me, so just try to keep up.

And then I woke up one morning, and just like that, 

I decided I loved coffee.

I attribute this mostly to LakeGirl but not so much because she's awesome and my north star when it comes to guiding life's decision making,

but more so because she insisted I borrow her collection of Gilmore Girls DVDs.

And after watching obsessively in marathon fashion Lorelai caffeinate over and over and over,

 I figured, in a truly logical manner of course,

"Huh. Lorelai drinks coffee. Lorelai is awesome. Coffee must be awesome."

And yeah. I didn't pay much attention to the fact that Lorelai wasn't real. And in the end it didn't matter much because the equation was totally legit. Coffee is awesome.

Becoming a coffee drinker has had several unexpected bonuses:

1. I spend less money at Starbucks. High five to being all economical me.

2. On Tuesdays-Thursdays (the days I have decided I will no longer stop at Starbucks on the way to work), I have this fun new morning routine once I get to the office and it's really quite enjoyable. I drop my crap off in my office, turn on my computer and then head to the kitchen to make a few pots of coffee. One of my dream jobs has always been to be a waitress, and when I scurry around the kitchen changing coffee filters, and filling carafes and organizing the coffee mugs in the cupboard (and yes, this is part of the routine), I feel all domesticated and fabulous. Don't judge. One of the best parts of life is being able to find joy in the most ridiculous of little things. 

3. Because I make the coffee (see no. 2 above), the partner whose office is next to mine always stops by to wish me a happy morning and thank me for making the coffee. And this makes me smile. 

4. I have started a collection of exceptionally amazeballs coffee mugs. So yeah, this sort of makes the saving money part of No. 1 moot, but meh. The mugs make me happy. Especially this one.

And by the way, that is in fact a pizza grease stain on my jeans.

 Lunch was especially delicious today. 

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream . . .

I figured by quoting Shakespeare, at least this post would start on a classy note . . .

no promises for how it will end.

So the downside to this whole secret blog venture is I can't post real, legit pics of me, 

or the Tiny Human,

which is unfortunate,

because the Tiny Human is super cute and really rad.

You're not really missing much with the absence of my mug.

But on the flip side, the Tiny Human does make a great unicorn,

so there's that for a silver lining.

Exhibit A

So Octoberpalooza month means I dress the Tiny Human in all things Halloween,

day and night.

Exhibit A is evidence of that, with her all spooky and awesome'-like rockin' her Baby Gap Boo jammies.

So with Exhibit A in mind,

know that I totally felt like a dirty tramp when I cheated on October by not only purchasing but wearing these beauts last night:

Thy eyes doth not deceive thee. 

Those are in fact flamingos, wearing Santa hats . . .

and yes, yes you do spy with your little eye tiny little mobile trailer homes to boot,

with Christmas lights strewn about the trailer-home aluminum windows.

Target, you done real good this time. 

Sweet October

Yesterday got away from me . . .

but know this.

In my humble opinion, there is no month in the year more glorious than sweet October.

I also love Halloween and as a result, 

my daughter has been subjected to what I've lovingly deemed "Octoberpalooza."

Beginning October 1st and until the stroke of midnight on All Hallow's Eve, 

I dress her in Halloween-inspired attire from head to toe,

Every. Single. Day.

This year, I upped the crazy and have insisted that the Tiny Human's jammies also be donned with skulls or skeletons or witchy-like monsters consuming copious amounts of candy. 

It's all sorts of over-the-top and admittedly nuts,

which makes me love that we do this even more.

I was sort of worried that the Tiny Human would protest this year . . .

so I preempted the anticipated resistance by taking everything totally out of her closet,

 leaving only the Halloween Octoberpalooza approved items behind.

That way, when she demands to dress herself,

she'll dress appropriately.

Genius.

To my extreme delight, though, the Tiny Human actually seemed legit excited about the madness,

and was genuinely giddy about revamping her closet on Monday night.

She woke up earlier than usual on October 1st,

before I had to leave for work, 

and the first words out of her mouth were, 

"I wear Haw-wo-ween shirt today."

Done. And. Done.