Paninis & Writing

There is one thing you need to know before you carry on reading this little thing of mine. One thing that may or may not change your thoughts on whether this relationship of ours is going to go any further. One thing that might indeed change EVERYTHING.

Well this is awkward, it seems I’ve amped it up so much that I can never make it sound as awesome as it needs to.

So here it is: right now at this point in my life I have exactly three things on my brain. My kids well-being, the panini palace and writing.

A while ago Sophie told me she wasn’t exactly fond of me writing all of these, she says “embarrassing” I say “adorable” stories about her. So I will respect her wishes and the tales of the children will have to be kept to a minimal. Which leaves us with paninis and writing.

Hence, if you choose to continue frequenting this account you will probably be reading about a whole shit-ton of misadventures which Jamie and I find ourselves getting into daily at the shop. That and my ridiculous obsession with pop culture, I will probably throw that in here somewhere too. Example, Vampires. Another example: my love for Mindy Kaling…She’s so fucking cool.

Ahem, allow me to paint you a little picture here.

It was lunch-rush and busier than we’ve ever been before. INSANITY to be exact. But good insanity. Exciting insanity. We were running into each other like chickens tend to when their heads get cut off except babbling back and forth so perhaps more like a pair of challenged baboons. I was panting for the love of God! Panting! I’m so out of shape.

Then everything froze.

Now everything did not actually freeze to be literal, it’s not like there was some kind of super natural force which actually stopped time or anything. This was more of an emotional freezing moment where I looked at my husband and this sandwich kingdom we have assembled and I couldn’t be more honoured to be in this thing with him. Like, how did I become so lucky to have found a partner who I can raise a family with but build a business alongside too? It is nothing short of a miracle.

Time jumps back to reality and Jamie runs past me clutching his hand. He returns to the line a few minutes later with his index finger wrapped up like a mummy and two clear plastic gloves on over top.

“Did you cut if off? Do you need stitches?” I ask with not a hint of yarn in my voice because my husband has literally cut off the tips of his fingers several times before in his career and had to get them sewn back on. So this was a serious and vital question at the time.

“No I just sliced it down the middle.” He said. Then we disinfected what needed disinfecting (becasue a restaurant is nothing without clean and proper health standards) and continued on with the lunch-rush because stopping just isn’t an option these days.

I’m not going to lie, it’s been a tough go of it lately. We are feeling the debt that we created when setting up the shop and it’s proved to be a lot more difficult than we anticipated to begin paying it down.

Of course, it’s all part of it. This is the big shebang of starting a business. Them’s the ropes, as they say. We get it. But if you’ve ever had debt hanging over you, if you’ve ever felt that suffocating fear of relying utterly and completely on your next day’s sales, your next week’s paycheque, I’m sure you can feel where we are coming from.

So today, this fantastic day that we were not expecting but eagerly hoped for had finally come! At one point as I slid in beside my husband on the line and poured a bowl of soup we caught each other’s eyes. He looked at me and smiled this smile that just said, “I may have just sliced my finger open but that’s okay because we’re doing it! We are making this happen!” and it gave me a stomach full of butterflies.

It was a long day, twelve hours to be exact with even more paper work and planning to be done once I arrived home that evening. When they say starting a small business ain’t for the faint of heart, believe them, they wouldn’t lie to you. **I don’t know who “they” are but they sure know their shit.

When Jamie got home we cracked a couple of beers and talked about the day. It was in fact the busiest one we’ve had yet and despite our aching feet and weary brains it was our day! We had done it. Sure there were a few mishaps but we recovered. We moved forward and now are ready for another day, and that my friends, feels fabulous!

 

 

 

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Early Morning Brain Activity

Well, here I am again. That didn’t last long did it? But, with me being the narcissistic and 100 percent self-absorbed human that I am, I mean really, how long did I expect it to last? So I am back at it. I’m back writing on this blog of epic proportions. It may not be often, it probably won’t be interesting in the slightest, but I’ve got to hear myself think once in a while. Decidedly, this is how I must do it.

So it’s 6 o’clock in the morning, I’m drinking my coffee with almond milk in it and it is probably the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. Hopefully it’s one of those creations that you get used to after a while becasue I’m trying to make “healthier” life choices right now. Or maybe I should just start drinking it black. Like my hair…and my soul.

Just kidding, my soul is grey at best. But it is well on its way. I blame this on two distinct things. One is working in customer service again. Don’t get me wrong, the people I love, I REALLY love—that, may have come off a little too strong, shall I go as far to say creepy? Probably.

We have these regulars that are pretty much the greatest people on the planet! I actually get excited when they walk through the door because I realise that for a mere moment in time I will be relieved of the shit-storm which is the customer service industry. Okay, okay that was dramatic.

But they are just so awesome compared to the horribly awful people that sometimes darken the door of our shop-I won’t go into detail in fear I will frighten you too much. But it makes me realise that nice people are something NOBODY should take for granted. You guys can quote me on this: Nice people are the nicest.

So I’m sure you get it, nice people are nice and rude people can go and suck some big fat monkey balls. Nutshell.

Uhhh what else, what else? *she says mentally sifting through the vast experiences and moral lessons she has had since turning off The Blogging Mama.

Well, I guess the two most important things would have to be that I still haven’t got any fiction work published (my reason for leaving in the first place) and I now have an unhealthy obsession with Vampires. Little late on the last one, kind of missed the boat there.

Which brings me back to my blackening soul. Reason number two for darkened soul: I’ve eagerly turned myself over to the popularly evil side of vampire enthralment. No I haven’t gotten myself wrapped into the whole Twilight mania. I’m more sophisticated than that you guys. I, ahem, have fallen madly and deeply into the grasps of a little production called “True Blood” and it is AMAZING.

Sometimes I wonder what I am doing with my life, and then I pretend that I’m on the run from evil fang wielding vampires and the good vampires have come to save me and then Jamie will turn into a vampire and we will have us some crazy human/vampire lovin’ and it will be glorious until all the crazy religious folk start coming at us because of our taboo Vamp/Human relationship.

And I realise that I am exactly where I need to be in this life.

So Friends, to sum up; still desperately trying to make my fiction work “a thing” (not to sound needy, who me? Never), I love nice people and really really dislike not nice people. I’m going to start writing on The Blogging Mama a bit more regularly than my former verdict of never again because I have a sever inability to stick with any decision I’ve ever made. And, if there is a vampire reading this I’d really like to meet you…But please don’t kill me.

Well, it’s been a slice folks.

And I’m sorry if you got through this post and are now thinking, “What a waste of the last fifteen minutes.”

Jokes on you if it took you fifteen minutes to read this.

 

Wednesday Rambles

 

The house has a muggy calm about it this morning. Today is supposed to be devastatingly hot and I’m not entirely sure I am ready for it. I’m not entirely sure I am ready for anything anymore. For someone who used to be chronically prepared for just about everything, I’ve sort of dropped the ball lately.

Maybe it’s the heat. Or maybe it’s my brain being overloaded with menial tasks. Perhaps it’s my brain being overloaded with all of the non-menial tasks that’s getting me down. The worries and what-ifs about the future. I find myself daydreaming all of the time about what’s to come.

Like, I wonder when that multi-billionaire is going to stroll through the doors of The Hot Wire and give us an offer right then and there that we can’t refuse. He will say something along the lines of, “Boy Howdy I do declare this is the best éclair I’ve ever eaten!” or “Well, I tell you what, I’ve never seen a more original and downright delightful sandwich shop in my whole dang life.” I am imagining this person to be from the Deep South with an accent reminiscent to Foghorn J. Leghorn.

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However right here and now I am reminded that none of this has actually happened yet. A wall of heat is currently pressing up against my back and I feel as though I may be slowly melting away into oblivion. I do hope it’s not so hot there.

Usually I don’t mind the heat. I like to bask or whatever. But working in a kitchen when it is 30 above, I’ve come to discover, is most likely the closest impression of Hell that any human being will ever know.

I literally just turned around to see if I could physically see what the “heat” looks like. I am assuming that because it is so god-damn hot in here (at 6 am) that surely I would be able to spot its wrath. I’m really considering stripping down to the buff and going to sit in the cool garage for a few before I head off to work.

Okay by now I’m sure you guys are asking yourselves where in the good and glorious name of Jeebus am I going with this blog post?

Well, to put it right out there; I’ve been a bit of an asshole lately. I’ve pretty much been the assholiest asshole in the history of assholes (but not the literal kind…because that would be shitty. Ha!)

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In these last few weeks I’ve pulled away. I’ve withdrawn because let’s face it, things got scary and things got hard. We were struggling to get the business where we needed it and doubt plus many misgivings were running rampant. I stopped calling my friends and family because I just didn’t have anything positive to say. I didn’t text, and when they texted me I shot back with insincere one word answers.

Assholery I tell you, pure assholery.

Now, it is time for an apology! I’m sorry dear loved ones…I love you all. Love, love, love, love and some more love. Yes, this is in fact my idea of an apology. They’ll get it.

The smouldering and fiery facts—that accompany my current state of sweltering alive—are that I was a little depressed for a brief moment there, and it scared the holy molies out of me.

But then one day not too long ago something happened and although it doesn’t solve all of our “starting a business stresses” it gave me that little bit of oomph I was in need of to get up and get on.

A dude sitting in the shop so very nonchalantly muttered to his Panini one random day, “I love you. I never want you to end.” And in that moment our suspicions about failure vanquished. We realized that we have something here, something good. It was about at that time when grandiose delusions of talking roosters paying us millions to franchise our panini palace came into play.

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Maybe that’s a little much, I don’t know.

What I do know is that I cannot allow the down days to affect the relationships in my life. Our humans, the ones who get us through the everyday, are our everything. There are going to be bad days. Days when the bread doesn’t rise and the cakes all fall. There will be days when the equipment brakes. When the kids act up and lash out. There will be days when we want to tell the whole entire world to just fuck right off.

And then, there will be days when we find a grown ass man telling his panini that he loves it. There will be days when we feel invincible. Some days we will find that we have the ability to do just about anything.

These are the days we must hold tightly to. The days that remind us that we are doing something wonderful and fulfilling.

Some may even go as far to say; these, are the days of our lives.

*mic drop.*

Lindsay Out.

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Life: Open For Business

So going back to work has been a bit of a learning curve.

You know, I really didn’t think it was going to be that difficult to get back into the swing of things. I imagined I would breeze in there all like, oh yeah I’m Queen Bee of working and moming and I am the master of both my domains!

**followed by exaggerated maniacal laugh. **

Except this is not at all how it has been going.

Every day I drag my tired screaming body out of bed and wonder what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into. I think about how easy my previous life was in comparison. I fondly reminisce about all of my worry-free days of stay-at-home mom-ery and I fawn over those memories with longing.

However after a cup of coffee, I punt myself back into reality while I slather on some mascara and get on with life-as does every other person on the planet.

I do the mornings at the shop while Jamie does the long afternoons. I can’t complain. Jamie typically bests my nine hour shifts by two or three hours more each day. He almost lives there. But I do complain, a lot. Not about the fact that I’m tired and I am having a difficult time getting into a routine—these things will come. I complain about the tiny, minuscule things I miss about the ‘before times’.

I miss Sophie’s haphazard and dazed look when she awakens and trudges her way upstairs in search of cereal. I miss the way Lars would hide around the corner of the kitchen only to yell, “GOOD MORNING MOM!” as loud as he possibly can in those wee hours as I myself would be trudging into the kitchen. I miss Jamie rolling over still half asleep, putting his arm around me and whispering that the kids can wait just five more minutes as he nuzzles his cold nose into my neck.

These are the little things that I complain about not getting enough of anymore. And although they are small, the price seems like a big one to pay.

Aside from the mom-things that have been effected, there are a few other aspects of this new life that are quite daunting.

Let’s begin with the fact that Jamie and I are business owners! Do you know how different that is than being an employee?! When I worked outside of the home I always considered myself a pretty star wage earner. I’d show up early and stay late if needed. I went the extra mile. I was always friendly and courteous. I was one hell of a trainer when necessary. And I felt like I treated my position with as much respect as I would if I owned the place.

Except I didn’t. Not. Even. Fucking. Close.

The truth of the matter is, one doesn’t know what it’s like to be a business owner until you are, in fact, a business owner. Before, I never understood exactly how much was on the line if something (anything) happened to screw up. You don’t realize what one bad review of your company could mean. You have no clue how completely and utterly accountable you are until it is only you, you have to answer to.

We’ve done well thus far but the sneaking knowledge that our entire future is riding on this venture is always weighing in the back of our busy minds. It’s a large burden to bear to say the least.

So there’s that.

And about a hundred other things that continue to make me look back on the days before The Hot Wire, before moving, before everything changed, with fond recollections.

How easily it would be to slip back into those days of carefree living.

That is, until I dredge up how ‘carefree’ it wasn’t. Perhaps before the Panini shop (which now feels somewhat like a lifetime ago) we may not have had such *pressing* (see what I did there) issues but we did have issues none the less. We felt like we were standing still and not progressing in the life we were living. We felt like we were teaching our kids to sit and complain about all of the woes in life rather than going out and doing something about it. We felt lost because we simply weren’t doing what we were meant to be doing. We didn’t feel in control of our own lives and there is actually nothing worse than that kind of a thing weighing you down.

Now, those feelings are but a mere story of how we started on this current journey.

I think anywhere we go in life there will always be the learning curve. There will forever be challenges and worries that we aren’t doing right for ourselves and our family. There will be doubt.

It doesn’t matter how far you move, what new challenges you face, there will sometimes be moments of suffocation. There will always be moments of victory. I don’t think any successful human being can have one without the other.

So whatever it is you are doing, keep doing it. Keep trying the new. Keep yourself on your toes. Be scared and excited and thrilled by anything. And do it every single day.

Life is weird and uncertain and totally terrifying at times. But at any given moment it can also be very very magnificent.

 

 

Taking a Breather

Quickly I run the mouse over the red X in the right hand corner of the screen. If I am going to get anything done I have to pull myself away from the tantalizing grips of my Facebook world. As I watch the screen disappear I feel a momentary melancholy because all I really want to do right now is mindlessly scroll through a sea of Selfies and dumb political opinions. I don’t want to think, or read or have to conjure up anything from the foggy depths of my brain because I am just too damn tired for that.

It’s been about two weeks now since I’ve sat down at this computer and wrote anything at all. I force myself to put my fingers to the keyboard because whenever I happen to go this long without writing a sneaking fear begins to burrow its way into the better judgement section of my brain. What if I forget? What if I lose the ability to sling sentences? What if I lose interest in the art of wordsmithing altogether? What the hell then?!

As much as I don’t actually believe this will happen, there is a small part of me that will probably never let go of this completely irrational worry.

So here I am, writing. I don’t really know what to write about at this very moment but my hands seem to be clicking away at a good pace so I will just let them do the work I suppose.

Everything has been going pretty swell at the Panini factory. Our doors are open and every day we seem to be gaining more happy customers which is truly a beautiful thing. I think one of my favourite parts of this new adventure is meeting all of the people who walk through The Hot Wire’s doors.

A few have been back several times and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that our little shop is a place that people just like hanging out. This is what Jamie and I always envisioned when we talked about opening The Hot Wire. Now, it is coming to fruition and we couldn’t be happier.

Of course it hasn’t all been a pleasure cruise. For the first few days we were pretty dead. Like I mean NOBODY new about us at all. Here I was thinking I was such a marketing wizard with my awesome Facebooking skills. What I’ve learnt about Facebook advertising is that a whole lot of people can “like” your page and that does not mean jack when it comes to them coming into your shop.

On grand opening day we were packed to the roof with prep and bread from the hordes of people we imagined would be fighting each other (literally just destroying each other) to get a mere taste of our sandwiches. In reality we had about ten costumers. It was not very glorious at all. So in the days to follow Jamie and I would be mentally willing the people who walked past the front of our shop to pop their head in and take a whiff of the delicious treats we had on display.

Now, by “mentally willing” I actually mean awkwardly staring down anyone who came near our doors as we wore ridiculously large smiles and expectant expressions on our faces. We were probably scaring more people away than anything. I would have been scared.

However a few humans did brave the weird vibe we were giving off and ended up loving the food. This is exactly why you shouldn’t judge an oddball book by its cover people!!

And there it began, the infamous word-of-mouth advertising. Seriously it works like a charm!

Each day our numbers are growing. We are becoming more confident in this huge endeavour we’ve taken on. And damn does that ever feel good!

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Letters For The Past

January eleventh nineteen eighty six a baby was born. She was five weeks premature, had a skull full of thick black hair and even back then was a stubborn little bugger. This baby’s name was Lindsay Rae Sawyer (that’s me!).

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Thirty, can you believe it? It astounds me how quickly thirty years has come and gone. I can remember being a child and thinking about how my teen years couldn’t come fast enough. Once those hit it was pretty much a blur for an undetermined amount of time but once I pulled my head out of my you-know-what I found myself quickly nearing the terrifying twenties.

Turns out this age was way more fun than the teens because you’re legal to do whatever (well, mostly whatever) you want. For a time I took full advantage of this. These last ten years have taught me so many life lessons. I can honestly say, without a shadow of a doubt, my life has so far been exceptional.

And now my family and I have set off on our new adventure. The new place has been painted, the city explored and we have said goodbye to the house that had felt like home for so very long.

I think about the young girl who once stepped into that house, still only a child herself—pregnant and terrified for what the future held and I cannot help but smile. If only I could tell her that it would all work out. If only I could write a letter to the person I was so many years ago, explaining that this is exactly the way that life is meant to be. I would tell her to embrace every moment.

I would tell this naïve and scared person that raising an infant is difficult even in the best of times. However there will be nothing else she does in her life that is more important. Also take pictures; there can never be enough pictures of these moments in time.

I would tell her that despite being young she and her spouse will be strong. They will go through the toughest times she has yet to see in a relationship and only come out of it sturdier than before. And somewhere along the line there will be a realization. After all is said and done, once businesses have been built and entire lifetimes have been lived it always comes down to the two of them. Friendships will have come and gone and the children will be embarking on their own journeys—these two people who so long ago began a journey with nothing more than an infant and a pile of dreams will still be holding hands and venturing off into the sunset together.  It will be a romance that endures the ages.

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However I would also have to say that these next years will not only be sunshine and puppy love. There will be more heartaches and strife than she will know what to do with. Whether it is her parents, siblings, the children, in-laws or friendships—there will be upheaval. After all what is family for? There will be moments when this woman will assume that she will never again speak to some of those she has come to love. The heartache of the matter will be so grand that it will seemingly take up every spare minute of her life. She will discover herself downhearted and glum dwelling over what has went so terribly wrong to cause such turmoil in her life.

These times are painful but entirely necessary. They are there to assist us with the essential growth we need to move on to our next journey in life. And if it is meant to be the relationships we’ve broken will become mended bringing us closer to those we love.

Throughout a lifespan I can imagine how many times we think back and say to ourselves, “if only”. If only I would have said ‘this’ instead of getting angry. If only I could have told them I loved them once more. If only I might go back in time to tell my former self the lessons I have learnt.

Yet it is not really about the “if only” is it?

At some point or another we are all just a terrified person not knowing how we will possibly get through this next hurdle. I think that if we can embrace the scariness that is inevitable in life, we can find peace in knowing that one day it will be something we merely look back on.

And maybe uncovering this knowledge will not assist in comforting a young and scared Lindsay Rae Sawyer but it certainly makes me feel better about what’s ahead for a certain Lindsay Rae Brown and her family.

 

Changes, Happiness and Feeling Alive

20150724_212817As I walk Lars to school this morning it hits. A foreboding magnitude begins to press down on me and the looming feeling of fright is palpable. However there is nothing I can do about it since I’ve played my own key role in this massive turn of events. The only way out is to travel forward.

We’re moving. Even writing it seems surreal. We are moving to a new house, in a new city, a new school district and an entirely new place. We are venturing into unknown territory with two small children and a brain full of hopes and dreams for our future. It is the most terrifying thing I have done since bringing my two small people into this world.

As I write this at my usual spot I look around at the backdrop. I am sitting in the same kitchen we sat in with a three day old Sophie as we watched Lars blow out a wax candle shaped as the number two. It is the place where Jamie proposed to me, right here on the kitchen floor while baby Lars played in the living room below. It is the home, where in the last eight years there have been countless arguments, ridiculous nights of merriment, and so many moments forever sealed to memory. It is the place where Jamie and I have created a family.

While I am walking hand in hand with my son I quietly think about what will soon be changed. They will be attending a new school which means making new friends and building new relationships with teachers. It means saying goodbye to the people they have grown to love here. It means more change than any of us have ever dealt with as a family. It is damn intimidating.

Intimidated—that is the perfect word for how I feel right now. Will I be strong enough to assist my family emotionally in this move? Am I forthcoming enough to make the new friends I know I will need in this unfamiliar place? Will I be collected enough to stand confident even when both Jamie and I experience moments of self doubt? Yes, in the deep of my soul I know the answer is yes to all of these questions. But the intimidation still lingers unremittingly.

I can feel this lump in the back of my throat each time I think of driving away in our moving truck—towards the indefinite. I have never been as afraid as I am in this moment.

And it makes me feel undeniably alive.

This is what we live for. We are put here to make advancements, break barriers, and do something (anything) out of the ordinary. Progress cannot be made by keeping stagnant. This is how Jamie and I came to our conclusion that it was time for us to move on. We want to teach Lars and Sophie that although new endeavors can be daunting, they are essential for growth and fulfillment.

The morning is foggy as Lars and I walk. He grips my hand a little tighter.

“Everything okay sweetie?” I ask.

“I’m just really scared of the fog Mom.” He replies. “We can’t even see to the end of the alleyway. I don’t like not being able to see what’s ahead.”

His comment makes me think about how unclear our own future seems. I realize that this hazy alley behind the only home he has ever known mirrors the anxieties I have been feeling in regards to our move.

“It’s normal to feel scared when you can’t see what’s ahead of you Lars.” I give a gentle squeeze to his hand. “But we know that we have to get to school right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we’ve got to move forwards. See, as we walk, the fog seems to fade away and the closer we get to the school the easier it is to make out. Fog isn’t that bad when you think about it, you just need to move slowly and carefully through it to be able to see clearly again.”

“You’re right Mom and it makes it better when I have someone to walk with.” He said.

Foggy areas are worrisome; one could even call them terrifying. But when you have the people you love holding your hand reminding you that there is clarity on the other side it all of the sudden doesn’t seem so scary.

 

 

 

Critic

We’ve got critics.

Cynics in the crowd that are mocking our every move

Peering at us with tight lips, fists that are gripped, and a hat-tipped gaze.

They are reviewing our inherent and unwary ways.

But days pass by and we still carry on.

Even though we are worn

From words, that Mama said would never hurt us

Our purpose is determined

So we will stand strong with courage-

Attempting to be unburdened by the current.

Because we’ve got critics

Skittish mimics who slink along in shadowed places

Picking on races, faith and, well, anything basic.

It makes us brainsick to watch their archaic ways

It could be hysterical, if it wasn’t so damn hateful.

But we will bear it, refusing to fall short

Sorting through the refuge and waste

Until we uncover our own sacred place.

And there will always be critics

Keyboard warriors who stand strong behind

A cyber interface—

A birthplace for anonymous and unwarranted hate

The gateway for nonsense to be transformed into

Plausible weight.

And that’s okay,

Because it’s not for us to berate

We need not be skeptics of this forlorn state

If you listen to one thing I’m going to say

Know that judgement is addictive,

Evicted imaginings from predispositions.

All that is envisioned from our haters own

Sordid inhibitions.

They will try to steal our happiness, our wisdom, our faith

Our unending conviction for our futures fate.

Yet we will choose to turn away

Continuing to plunge forwards in our freethinking ways

The negative haze will not discourage us

Only give us strength.

Because we will forever have these critics

Cynics in the crowd jeering our actions with a hat-tipped gaze

Crazed by the fact that we’ve forged our own way

Using their rules

As our own personal foreplay.

We will be brilliant

The players of our age

However disgraced by those who couldn’t accept the change.

Engraved by some as the outcast

…But by some as the brave.

And the naysayers indeed in the end

Will inadvertently show us what we need to see.

So we beg of you please

To all of our critics

Never quit us.

 

 

 

 

 

The Death of A 20-Something is lonely

Hello my bloggy blogger friends!

Remember to please take a second to pop by my brand spankin’ new blog

The Death of a 20-Something

It is fabulous and has some pretty neat-o writing there too!

And it isn’t only for 20-Somethings as the title may suggest.

Oh no…

It is for anyone who wants a fun spin on thoughts about growth and maturity.

So feel free to follow the link and check it out!

And remember if you enjoy it please to Like our Facebook page or click follow to receive more posts

As well as share with your friends!

Click here to be transported to the awesome land of-

The Death of a 20-Something

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The Many Faces of 29

Lately I’ve heard much talk about how wonderful 30 is. How once we reach this brilliant age all of the insecurities of our twenties will flit away as though never having been there in the first place. A newfound confidence will wash over us and we will walk with that thirty something bounce that makes all of the awkward twenty year olds green with envy.

I will soon be the ripe age of twenty nine- my very last year as a twenty something. And all I can think about is how much evolving I still have to do before I get to that awesomely self-assured lady of thirty I’ve been hearing so much about these days. I am nowhere near that person that everyone says I will miraculously become once hitting this very specific and very conceivable age.

Many times I feel less like that person than I did when I was a weirdo teenager with no purpose on this earth other than terrorizing my brother and striking unabashed fear into the souls of my blameless parents. At least then I was comfortable in my skin. I was me. Plain and simple. And how beautifully simple it was. How easy it was!

Now on any given day I can wake up being a different Lindsay. Most days I wake up as Mom. I groggily get out of bed swearing under my breath about tiredness and etcetera. I pour cereal and more times than not change a set of peed on sheets before the sun rises. I make lunches and walk kids to school in below freezing temperatures- coffee mug in hand. I plan play dates. I try to decipher what my lisp-y four year old is saying without hurting her feelings. I end my days as Mom and I feel good. I’ve helped. I’ve assisted. I continue to do my part to raise this upcoming generation with love, intelligence and compassion.  And at end of the day that is a wonderful feeling.

I wake up some mornings with the sunshine glistening through the cracks of our heavily draped window. I see my husband’s nose wrinkle in just the way I have learnt it does when his deep sleep is disturbed by morning daylight. These mornings I am Wife.  I will gently kiss his clammy sleep sweaty forehead to wake him for work and as he rouses I will pour him a coffee in his favorite mug. I will send him to work and wait for his arrival home that evening expectantly. I listen to his woes and support him in his decisions. We will make inside jokes and talk quietly about our budding life over wine, mussels and blue cheese on Ritz crackers. We will imagine the future and make plans for what’s to come. We play fight. We real argue. We understand we are opposites but appreciate each other’s ideals. And I will love him, because I chose him and he chose me and together we created two beautiful little human beings. It is these days that I am reaffirmed that I am doing things right. I am doing what I was meant to do.

Other days I wake up with artful words plucking at my fingertips- waiting for that pivotal moment of release. These days I am Writer. These are the days I am invincible.

Some days I wake up and immediately am deemed Friend- I can be a shoulder to cry on or an ear to vent at. Or maybe simply just a friend to chatter with.

I am Daughter. I am sister. I am Confidant. I am Secret Keeper. I am Gossiper. I am Feminist. I am Peace Keeper. I am Trouble Maker.

And with so many different personas that I take on daily I can feel myself being pulled in fifty different directions. There are days when I wake up wondering what Lindsay will be called upon first and I am overwhelmed by the possibilities. I find the idea of coming into ones ‘own’ a difficult to process.

It feels like now more than ever I am a hundred different women just trying to get through the day without falling over that proverbial edge of insanity. Because god forbid we offend the guidelines of what women of a certain age should behave like.

So yes, here I am in my bed typing away currently indulging in my role as Writer. Maybe I will always be more than one woman. Maybe I will always find myself pondering the mysteries of womanhood and life in general. And possibly, that’s okay too.

Maybe it’s not about blindly listening to what we ‘should’ be feeling by thirty but instead accepting the realities of who we truly are and embracing that to the absolute fullest.

To The Girls

Cheers!

Here’s to the tears that roll down her wasted face

To those droplets of fear and pain and life and loss

That release into a torrent stream of uncertainty.

Here’s to the notes of self-doubt

When a “more important” voice interrupts hers.

To cries of insecurity,

For all the times she’s been called too skinny or too fat

Here’s to whispers of diffidence

From when she discovered that criticism was a real thing.

To every god damn teacher who told her

It wasn’t realistic to follow her dreams.

To every freaky dude in dim light hiding in a club corner-

Grabbing her ass while telling her she’s only ‘kind of’ pretty

To the boyfriends; the not-yet-men

Who once said she could never do better than them.

To the rumor creators- the truth takers

The breakers of promises and trust

Here’s to it all!

To the moments of wonder,

To the moments of what if.

To the difference between

Comfort and bliss.

Here’s to the pipedreams

Those shapeless ideas

Which floated gently into her psyche

Later realizing…They were insanely unlikely.

To being called flighty!

Here’s to every individual who has made her feel

Uncomfortably. Subtly depriving her

Of that usual bubbly redundancy.

To everyone who has fucked her up

To those who have destructively sucked her dry

To all the moments that have gone awry

Cheers to the fall.

Cheers to crawling dejectedly out from the hole she fell into

Cheers to tears of embarrassment and fear

Cheers to the sadness…That somehow brought her here

Because objectively- she now sees, she is where she needs to be.

And she is here because of those dicks in dim lit bars

The scars from rude remarks

The determination from being told NO

The ridiculous saying ‘bro’s before hoes’

She is here thanks to the sideways glances

And most of all the nervous laughter, she began to hear

When deciding their opinions- Didn’t. Fucking. Matter.

And all too soon the old vision shattered

And then it happened-

Happy, Free, Welcome, Pleased

She arrived here

And I cannot think of anything greater to deserve

Cheers

252273_10150988470411068_1875067804_n

Seedlings

The fresh soil has been purchased, the spring seeds meticulously chosen and the trays in which they will begin their life set out methodically.

Yesterday I was planning on starting my seeds for the summer growing season. This has got to be one of my favorite times of the year, as it means that soon, beautiful green foliage as well as fruits and vegetables a plenty will be in full swing.

I wouldn’t call myself a green thumb gardener, my plants are never perfectly flawless, but I do enjoy the practice regardless. Something about watching this small helpless thing grow into a hearty entity helps me realize that we are surrounded by miracles daily.

My seedling development got side tracked though with visits from Lars and Sophie’s cousins yesterday. My brother’s son, Jackson-2 ½ months old, and Hannah- 1 year and 4 months, my sister-in-law Gemma’s little darling decided to pop over.

And as it so happened I ended up babysitting these two babes, taking me away from my original task of planting.

But how could I be mad? Along with Lars and Sophie, I had the 4 most beautiful children I have ever seen amidst my home. I was loving life.

And it got me to thinking about how all of these wee humans have been evolving from the tiny seeds they once were.

Lars sits coolly with Hannah as I begin to prepare dinner. He is playing on his DS (of course) but in the next moment reaches his arm around his younger cousin and leaves it hang over her tiny shoulders. He then begins to explain to her how he is playing his game, and what he will do next.

I remember my first terrified thoughts, when holding my boy for the first time. I wondered so many vast wonders in regards to his life- but mostly I hoped for him to always be kind. And so far in his life, he has exceeded my expectations immensely. For this I couldn’t be prouder.

Sophie gazes at tiny baby Jackson in his bouncer chair. She looks at him with this curious sort of stare and I wonder what she is thinking. In the next tick I find out as she asks me if she can hold the baby. I get her set up on the couch propped with pillows and plunk the babe down on her lap.

The pride in my daughters eyes is engrossing and as she gently strokes the infants belly and leans down to give him a kiss on his bald head, I feel as though I just might melt right there on the spot. I think about how far the girl has come in such a short time. After this summer she will be beginning junior kindergarten and then before I know it she will be graduating her 12 years of school. The milestones just seem to keep whizzing right by me.

It makes me realize how fast the time truly goes in these young years.

I then recall the moment I went to see Hannah for the first time in the hospital. As I held her tiny body two thoughts crossed my mind. Firstly- I was thankful it wasn’t me that had just went through a torturing labour but secondly, more importantly I thought about my instant love for this small girl.

And as I assist her in eating some messy and oh so fun spaghetti I see her personality shining through. She is becoming a little person with her own personality and thoughts. And those first moments in the hospital seems so very far away at this time.

I was honored to be present at the time of baby Jacksons birth, and although it was only a few months prior it feels as though I have known this little man my entire life. He is now rolling over and smiling up a storm. I get to see my brother, and my best friend Ashley in him every day, which continues to make me grateful for all of the close relationships of family in my life.

And as I watch all of these children in my life grow, I smile. Like those seeds I will soon be planting I get the opportunity to watch them develop into anything they want to be. With nurturing, love and tutelage we can all assist our little ones to blossom into anything they desire.

And while sometimes our hands get covered in dirt and grime in the process, in the end it is all so very worth it.

003 wpid-IMAG0861.jpg Lars

 

baby 023 wpid-IMAG0741.jpg Sophie

 

img_7074 1529741_10152272187816068_836276745_o Hannah

 

wpid-IMAG0841.jpg wpid-IMAG0936.jpg Jackson