Happy Birthday, Milo!

Training for the new job, getting the office set up, cleaning out the basement (not at all in that order) and general madness: check.

The insanity continues, but this does not stop the march of time.

Today, my Milo - my rosy, rolly-polly little bugaboo - turns 1 year old.  As always, it's bittersweet. But him? He is ALL sweetness.

Happy Birthday, Little Man.

I've had him for a year.  One unforgettable, joyful, incredibly sleep-deprived year.

It's been a good year, and (as you can see, Miss J!) Milo helps inspire me to rock the lipsticks.  Here you are.  Me. Lipstick. Milo.  A happily matched grouping if ever there was one.  *grin*

Year Without Fear: Challenge Edition!

Ah, year without fear. How easily you have blended into the mundane of the every day.

I declare it shall no longer be so!  

I'm failing miserably on the whole "get in shape" part of my self-challenge.  Not for lack of ANY effort, mind you.  I'll shortly be attempting the Butt Kicking Kill that is P90X.  I've cut back my caloric intake as much as possible while still nursing Milo.  We've begun the weaning process, which deserves a post all its own once I can write it without the weeping and the gnashing of teeth and rending of garments.  Once nursing is complete, I can really get on the Calorie Restriction train. (It's a very slow train.  Sluggish, even.  It runs on very little fuel.)

I'm sorry, where were we, again?

Ah. Yes.  A Year Without Fear.

Well, I decided to open it up for suggestions.  Kinda-sorta.  I'll filter through the suggestions and pick a few challenges to attempt.  I'm not explaining this very well, am I.  

I'm asking for suggestions.  Crazy (but not TOO crazy) adventures for me to try out.  They can't be too expensive (because we're on a limited budget here. So, you know, no skydiving.  Not that I would attempt that, mind you. Did you know life insurance doesn't pay out if you die doing something stupid? Like jumping out of a perfectly good airplane?)

So DE-LURK, my friends, and offer your suggestions.  My brain is tired and I am fresh out of ideas.  Between soccer practice, scouts, school, preschool, and various and sundry other items on the Master Laundry List of daily living, I am going to have to work extra hard to find time for this, but find it I shall.

I've issued myself one challenge already:  Make time to go on our annual pilgrimage to the Maryland Renaissance Festival.  The fearless part? Go In Costume.  And take photos for your mocking pleasure. Huzzah!

Ready: GO!

Phobia #4328965342: Babysitters

I've been a mother now for just over 6 years. I know, right?! Stop that insanity. Only it's true, so it's not technically insane in the dictionary sense, but insane in the sense that I should not be allowed to be totally responsible for small humans.  

I was a damn fine babysitter, though, back in my day.

Funny enough, though, in all the time we've been parents, Big Daddy T and I have never really been ones to hire babysitters.  We've borrowed the odd services of family and swapped kid-watching duties with other parent friends. (You know: You take our kids Friday, we'll take yours Saturday, etc.)

It's not that I don't believe there are good babysitters, or that I'm afraid I'll come home to find the babysitter has slipped all the kids a rufee or bedded my husband or anything.  It's more that I'm terrified to leave anyone else the responsibility of these small humans because I don't trust that they will care about them as much as I do.

I recognize that this is patently ridiculous, as nobody else will EVER care about my kids as much as I do.  It's part of the mommy Job Description.  

So finally, when my neighbor/BFF, Sarah, suggested her babysitter might be worthy to be responsible for the temporary care of my 3 small, loud people, we decided to give it a go.

It was like tasting Ambrosia, y'all.

We went out. Alone.  Try #1 we took the baby with us to the movies, with disastrous results, but after that?  Try #2 we went to dinner at the new Wings Place in town, and then a live music show at a local bistro.  It was heaven. All 3 kids were in good hands, and we hadn't a care in the world.

This afternoon we celebrated our 7th anniversary a day early.  We left Courtney The Awesome with our 3 monkeys and headed out to see The Time Traveler's Wife.  Only, I suck and may have mentioned a time or two that my ADD prevents me from - you know -functioning like normal humans, so we MAY have ended up at the WRONG theater and been unable to see our movie.  Okay, so there's no may about it, we did just that, but then we ended up wandering around town and grabbing sangria and chips with guacamole at a hole-in-the-wall mexican place. Then we headed to a 250-year-old bar with a patio surrounded by old-growth trees, where we sat in a wooden swing hanging from one of the branches and sipped cold beers and talked about Life. And The Universe. And Everything.

Facing this fear has been entirely positive, and now I am left only with the regret that Courtney is headed back to college this week.  Which means I am now sans babysitter once again.  

This is what I imagine it was like for Val Kilmer's character in "At First Sight" when he got vision for the first time, but then lost it again.  And if you think I'm being melodramatic YOU DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN.

So facing this particular hurdle in my seemingly endless series of fears? It's been good.  Now who wants to come be my au pair? (I hope you're not adverse to My People doing a background check and taking a urine sample. You're totally okay with that, right?)

What can I say?  I'm a little protective.  It's a virtue. (Shut up, it totally is.)

How Much Ado Is Too Much Ado?

So how have YOU been, internet?

I know, I know. I got you all riled up about photos and adventures and a night out and blah, blah, blahgety-blah-blah, and then I leave you hanging.

Sorry about that.  What can I say? It's been a rough week.

Meeting up with bloggers is not something I expect to every thoroughly get used to.  I'm not good at cracking the code of social interaction when I'm "The New Kid".  When I was growing up, every two years (or less) brought a new move, and it usually took me a good year or two to find my groove and feel at home.  You know, just in time for another move.

When I was 14 we moved to California and finally stayed put for the next several years.  I even got to attend a single high school for all 4 years (something few of my siblings were able to do).  The only problem? Being a mormon in California was probably the worse possible place to be for a kid like me.  I was gangly, just coming into my height, totally unaware of my body or my appearance.  I had been told I was chubby my entire life, and I simply accepted it.  

When we arrived in California, I was actually a trim 135 pounds on a 5' 6" frame.  I felt fat.  I had a weird accent from living all over the place, my clothes were hopelessly out of style, and I hadn't the first clue how to put myself together or fit in with the kids around me who seemed just effortlessly cool.

By my junior year of high school I was 220 pounds on a 5' 8" frame.  I had given up on clothes, and my bleach-blonde hair had gone through various stages of being dyed brown by my sister (I spent half my sophomore year being questioned about the odd green shade, what with brown dye over bleached hair turning a lovely shade of puce-brown), and finally dyed a little-mermaid red to cover it.  I ate lunch at my locker, hunched over my dog-eared copy of Nicholas and Alexandra, rather than put myself through the cringe-inducing spectacle of trying to make conversation with the kids from my church group at "their spot" on the back lawn.  

By my senior year I had tried every possible way to lose the extra weight, and finally settled on running and walking as much as my body would tolerate.  I slimmed down to a healthy 140 and let my natural hair color grow in.  I still hadn't the foggiest idea about clothes or makeup or hair products, but I had found a group of friends who seemed to "get" me.... or at least to accept me as I was.  It took 4 years, but I finally felt at home.

Then I graduated and headed for Provo, Utah and BYU.  It was the final straw, and the beginning of everything else.  After 18 months, I moved to the East Coast and started again for what felt like the last time.  Maybe because it was the last time I would have to "reinvent" myself; or maybe because it was the first time I didn't have to, and could just discover who I was.

All of that backstory (this new honesty, it stings a little sometimes) is to say that so much of that feeling of "other-ness" rears up again when I put myself somewhere new.  I struggle to read the social cues, to pick up on the dynamic of the group.  The major thing that has changed is that I no longer base my sense of self-worth on whether or not I fit in.  But I still try to connect, and I hope that never changes.  Maybe I'll get better at this with practice.

So I made the 90-minute drive to Baltimore, stopping along the way to meet up with the lovely Miss Laurie, who was kind enough to take me under her wing to get me into the city.  

Once we arrived, I met (or re-met, as the case may be) some of the wry babes from MamaPop and a few of their friends.  What follows is the abridged story, in photos.  

What you won't see is how I giggled awkwardly at regular intervals, tried to make a point to talk with each person there one-on-one and, failing that, retreated to "Hey! I make cakes! My weird hobby, let me show it to you!" and basically, yeah, I'm pretty certain by the end of the night everyone there was wondering who had invited the crazy redhead, anyways, and should they start talking restraining order?  But, at least outwardly, everyone was lovely and funny and kdiddy is wicked hawt. (Sorry. I'm partial to redheads. What can I say?)  Although I don't think I'll ever get used to watching 6 people sitting in a row in a club and all twittering on their phones.  (in best old lady voice "you kids today!" etc, etc.)

And so, without further ado (because, good gravy, that was a lot of ado!) I present:

Babes In Baltimore:

Going out on the town. This is my game face.

Laurie and Sarah rocking the black. Aren't they lov-er-ly?
Wherein I learn it is not wise to attempt to startle the sweetney in its natural habitat. She sees ALL, y'all.

See, now I had always heard you could tell you'd had too much to drink if the tip of your nose was numb, Mizz Tracey.  But I suppose this would work, too... (now please don't kick my arse..)

Baltimore Gal and kDiddy have a heart-to-heart.

(Love, love, LOVE the green dress. LOVE!)
Disnazzio allowing me to make her totally uncomfortable.  And why, yes, she IS just as charming and delightful as that adorable smile would suggest! 

Um. The end?

Why Jump Out of A Perfectly Good Airplane?

I'm not the most adventuresome soul, come right down to it.  Big Daddy T disagrees with me on this, and loves to point out that I am only on the East Coast because a decade ago I took a flight from California into the great unknown.  He doesn't believe me when I tell him that was not brave, it was self-preservation.  The only way for me to find my way in the world was to start my adult life far away from everything familiar.  It was the only way I could learn to break out of old habits and roles and figure out who I am.

It took years (and a good bit of therapy) to figure out there are words to describe some of the things I struggle with.  Depression. Social Anxiety.  Attention Deficit Disorder.  These things don't define who I am, they're just descriptors of some of my personality quirks.

As part of this ongoing Year Without Fear adventure, tonight I am breaking out of my comfort zone once again.  Other than attending BlogHer in 2008 (which was exponentially less scary than it could have been, thanks to Kelly's sheltering wing) I have never gone out all on my own to meet up with Internet People --  unlike my husband, who still has friends he made on a BBS circa 1994, when most of us still had no idea what, exactly, this whole "internet" business was all about.  (DC Tavern, Hollah!)  

So tonight, I'm heading to my first official tweetup.  I'm driving into Baltimore all by my little lonesome to meet up with some fabulous ladies and do some booty-shakin'.  (That sudden lightheadedness you feel? That is my anxiety-ridden-mother's gasp of horror, sucking all the oxygen out of the atmosphere.)  

Right now I'm busy squelching an anxiety attack of my own, but for a totally different reason. What if they don't like me? What if I'm my giddy, awkward, nerdy self and they don't get me?! What if I drive all the way to Baltimore and I chicken out and can't go in? What if, what if, what if...

So, yeah.  There's that.  I'm hoping to have it under control before I need to leave because, ya know, probably not a great idea to drive while hyperventilating. And yes, I do know how ridiculous this is.

I'm bringing the camera, and I shall return and report.  You'll notice I'm not worried about ME liking THEM.  (In fact, I'm more worried about coming off as a weird fangirl, since Sweetney is one of my most favoritest bloggers and is it inappropriate to lick someone you've only met once before who probably doesn't remember you anyway and oh my lawdy can I make this sentence go on any longer - I bet I can!)

While you are waiting - breathless, no doubt - for the follow-up report on this excursion, allow me to leave you with CUTE BABY to distract yourself.  You're welcome.

Even covered in mashed peas... he is a tiny, delectable slice of AWESOME.

Without Fear

Sometimes you have an epiphany in the middle of a grand, life-changing moment.  This has happened to me before - when my children were born, when I got married, when I got my fist tattoo.

This is not one of those epiphanies, though.  This one came to me over the brim of my coffee cup as I was noshing on a lemon-zucchini muffin with raisins in it and feeding small bites to the baby.

So far, my Year Without Fear has had mixed results.  I have been bolder in making grand changes in my life, the changes I have been wanting to make but was waiting on "someday" to start.  I have been less bold in making changes I know I should make but don't really want to. (Hello, diet and exercise, you dirty, dirty words.)  I started a container garden (only moderately successful), I switched to cloth diapers (VERY successful) and I joined a CSA (Holy Freaking Successful and Hi Farmer Billy! You're adorable!).  I've been cooking healthier meals for my family, eating nourishing foods like Beets, and doing my best to slay the dragons of depression and anxiety in my head.

In one aspect, however, I have not yet begun to fight.  I don't know if I have ever mentioned before (oh, maybe once or twice or eleventy-billion times) that I have trust issues.  Very few people get past the outer rim into the stratosphere of my inner emotions, let alone down to the hot-molten core.  

When this journal-of-sorts changed from a simple chronicling of my daily life into an outlet to share myself, it was freeing and terrifying all at the same time.  When family and friends found it and began to check in on me with regularity, it was just terrifying.  Over the years since, I find I have slowly begun to lock back up the vault that had begun to open here.

I never thought of myself as a closed person.  I've begun to see how much I have become that way, though.  I should have read the signs sooner; I should have seen a red flag when I went through postpartum depression and nobody but my husband had any idea, or had the first clue how bad it really was.  I'm realizing that I can't expect people to know how I feel if I don't share it.

And so it is that the next step in this continuing journey of self is this: I choose to reopen the vault.

To some family and friends, this means you are going to be allowed to see parts of my heart I have never revealed to you before.  You may not like everything you see.  I have spent my entire life wanting to be a writer while yet shutting down any creative expression that revealed too honest a part of me.

To the rest of you - my intrepid fellow-explorers, my friends at All Mediocre, and the rest of my Internet Peeps - after being with me as long as you have, I know you'll be the first to say "it's about time" and then embrace whatever is to come.  Because you have always done that for me.  Because even when we disagree, you embody the live-and-let-live philosophy I began to learn about in the wilds of Northern California.  (It tends to happen when you live near Berkeley for any amount of time.  Maybe not IN Berkeley, but I hear they put something in the water there.)

ANYwho, the can of worms is being opened.  It's time to practice what I preach.  It's time to let the monkey out of the bag. You know, so-to-speak.  

No more hiding. 

Growing Up, Not Old: A story in pictures.

First, allow me to introduce my very lovely friend Camilla.

Camilla - Internets. Internets - Camilla.

In addition to being incredibly gorgeous, Camilla is also incredibly tall.  Oh, and incredibly Swedish, too.  I know, right? She must have been an angel in a former life to be so blessed, which I totally believe because she is definitely angelic now.  

Camilla celebrated her 30th birthday just after mine, so I insisted on dragging her out sweeping her away for an evening of Grown Up Lady Drinks and time away from our offspring.  

This was my favorite beverage of the night.

Hello, Burnt Orange Martini.  Delicious AND an excellent source of Vitamin C.

And these are the sassy heels I wore, because I am wearing High Heels Now.

They are mustard yellow suede. No, seriously.  Am I not branching out, people?!

And this is my Sassy Face that I wore to match my sassy heels:

Okay, so that's less sassy and more sweet.  Have it your way, HERE is my sassy face:

I wish I could blame my complexion on the flash, but I really am just. that. white.

So we dined on some nachos and had some drinks and then there was dessert.

We were going to take a picture of it for you, but we eated it first.  

But trust me - it was lovely. And delicious.

Spending a carefree evening in the company of a friend? 

Even more lovely. And delicious.

The evening was a complete success, complete with a walk from the restaurant back to Camilla's house and a designated driver for me.  Camilla's husband, Russ, volunteered for that duty.  Russ is from Maine and says things like "Leave yeh cah pahked at the bah and I'll give you a lift home."  This is made even more awesome by the fact that when, in a few months, Camilla and Russ take their baby daughter and move to Sweden, Russ will presumably need to learn to speak some swedish.  I imagine this will be comparable to the sounds I heard while taking a French class in Texas.  If you don't find either of these situations hilarious, you really just don't get my sense of humor and probably need to watch more Monty Python.

Also, I'm trying not to weep over the fact that Camilla is moving back to Sweden.  Did you know that Sweden pays you to have kids? And that they have awesome programs to support parents who stay home with their kids? I am now weighing the chances I could convince Big Daddy to move to Sweden.  

Any-who, this fantastic evening was a lovely panacea to the wounds on my Mom-Weary heart.  Not that I was weary of motherhood - don't go reading it that way.  It's more that I was suddenly forced to face facts about my children growing up much faster than I am prepared to process.  See, just the evening before I was faced with THIS:

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?!

So I'm okay with ME getting older. But that?  That is just... just... I mean, yesterday he looked like THIS:

Hello, Baby who is NOT Milo

But Holy Hannah Montana, do you LOOK like Milo!

And now I am faced with THIS:

And .. just... Wow.  

I might need another martini.

Good Things Growing

I can tell that Spring is finally (nearly?) here.  There are signs of it all around.  

There are roses from Big Daddy.  These are very special roses, also known as Apology Roses.  Because my husband realizes he married a crazy person who immediately assumes, if she hasn't heard from him by 7pm, that he has been in a horrific industrial accident and is right this minute bleeding out from a wound that she would totally know how to apply a tourniquet to but how can she when she doesn't know where to find him ZOMGWTFBBQ?!  So.. yeah.  Apology Roses.  They smell sweeter than the regular kind, I swear.

Several days ago I planted seeds in some paper cups to get the seedlings started indoors because, sweet jumping Joe Jonas on a Pogo Stick, the danger of frost has STILL not passed.  Jack has been terribly upset by the fact that nothing has grown yet. (It's been 5 whole minutes, though, Mom! Why aren't the seeds growing us food yet?!)

And then, today, we spotted this little bugger.  I'm gonna go ahead and assume that that's spinach, since that's what's written on the side of the cup.  I've never seen spinach seedlings before, so I'm not really sure if that's what they're supposed to look like.  But look! How brave he is! Grow tiny spinach, GROW! Make us food, and bring me one step closer to winning Granola Earth Mother Of The Year In My Own Mind!  Because I've heard that's basically the recipe: cloth diapering + grow your own food = Green Parenting WIN! (Don't pop my happy little bubble by dispelling the delusion.  I like the bubble. It's warm and sparkly in here.)

Planting these food plants, in addition to the strawberry, blueberry and raspberry plants that I have planted in the yard, is another step in the Year Without Fear.  I've always wanted a food garden, but always been afraid I'd go to all that effort only to end up with no food to show for it.  I may very well end up with nary a bean for my efforts, but then again I might end up baking blueberry muffins with my own berries.  You never know until you try.

These are snake plants, birthed of some other snake plants, that are originally from a mother plant that was cared for by Big Daddy's Gramma Tina for I don't know how long.  The big plant we had - a cutting from Gramma Tina's plant - lived in Big Daddy old apartment in downtown Washington, D.C., where it was fed a steady diet of stale beer and cigarette smoke for many, many moons.  That plant finally started to lose its long battle with sickness and, despite my less-than-stellar track record at keeping green things alive, I took some cuttings from it and rooted them in water.  2 years later our original plant was finally giving up the ghost, but those babies were still going strong in the water in my kitchen window sill.  They're like the Britney Spears of houseplants: every time you think they're going to make it, they start to croak... and just when you count them out, they're BACK, Baby!  (Suddenly I'm seeing a parity between Britney Spears and Zombies that I had heretofore failed to detect...) 

Anyway, they are finally safely ensconced in some lush potting soil... which is to say that you can probably take safe odds they'll be hunched over limply in about a week.

Happy Spring, Everybody!  Go grow something.

Oh, wait.. you want to know about this?  *pointing at this here blog scenery*

What, THIS old thing?  Ah well. It IS spring, after all - time to make all things new again.  It was about time for a redesign, and this free template (courtesy FinalSense) was just too good to pass up.  A few tweaks to the design and... tah-dah!   It will take some getting used to, but I'm embracing it.  I hope you will, too, internets.

Favorite Things, Tempting Fate, Embracing Love

Love and gifts from faraway loved ones.

(Especially ones who remember I have a weakness for pretty necklaces)

Definitely some of my favorite things.  

As to tempting fate, it's of course immediately after my year of Living On Purpose - "A year without fear" - begins that Milo has a double ear infection (with a perforated ear drum on one side, naturally), Tobin declares he does not want to go to school ever again, thankyouverymuchbuhbye, and Jack falls off the climbing wall at school and bashes his head on a metal ladder.  

But everyone is okay, and to scornful fate I say "pfffthhhbbbbbbt."  No one ever said it would be easy.  But life is something to be embraced.

This week, in spite of their minor complaints and my minor whining, I am embracing my children as tight as I can and silently hurting for the parents of Maddie.  Their sweet, beautiful little girl was born too soon and had to fight with all her might to live.  They lost her this week, and I can only imagine the shambles their world is in right now.  I can't let myself think about what it would be like to lose a child, most especially one for whom they had to fight so hard for to begin with. My heart is aching for them.  Follow the link to send them some support, or go here to find out what you can do to help.

And go hug your loved ones.

Awesome Things About Turning Thirty.

1) I finally feel like a grown-up.  Well, not entirely... but at least I don't feel like an overgrown teenager any more.  But, lest I despair, I did get carded when buying Big Daddy a bottle of single-barrel Jack yesterday.  I made sure to tell the check-out girl "Thank You!"

2) The Year Without Fear starts TO-DAY.  I'm celebrating by making a huge pot of Oatmeal and having breakfast with my family.  Not that that's something I'm afraid to do. Well, not totally afraid, anyway. (Have you ever SEEN small children eat oatmeal? It's enough to turn the hair white. Let's just hope we keep it off the ceiling.)

3) Big Daddy swept me away last night for a romantic dinner for two at the new local restaurant that constructs its entire menu around locally sourced ingredients.  They change the menu up every few weeks and have an incredible chef who I am now fantasizing about kidnapping and forcing to be my personal Food Goddess for the rest of eternity.  Calamari with bleu cheese dipping sauce (I normally HATE bleu cheese, but I wanted to bathe in this.) followed by marinated hanger steak (medium-rare, of course) with caramelized onions, three-cheese polenta, and braised greens.  We shared a bottle of the most amazing Cabernet from Chile over dinner, and then I was treated to the Best. Creme Brulee. Ever.  If I could have? I totally  would have shrunk down to an inch high just so I could roll naked in it. It was THAT. GOOD. (And you're welcome for the visual.  It's my little birthday gift to you. heh.)

4) Did I mention that today marks the beginning of "A Year Without Fear"?  Because today we're taking the boys to see Monsters vs. Aliens (all 3 kids. To a movie.  I am slaying dragons over here, people!) And also my embrace of healthier eating.  I figure at 30 I'm entitled to set rewards for myself for losing 3-babies-worth of weight, too, so after 10 pounds my friend Sarah and I get to make a visit to the Shrubber.  After 30 pounds I'm getting my new tattoo.  After 50 pounds I'm gutting my wardrobe and starting over. My new wardrobe will contain ONLY pieces of clothing that I love, because life is too short to surrender to the frump.

So share my birthday joy with me, internets.  And don't forget to ride along with me and maybe dive into fearlessness this year, too.

What Have I Been Doing?

There is a list of things that have kept me away from the internets recently.  

Ready for story time, boys and girls? Good. Then settle in and get comfy, because this could take a while.

1) Cake.  Holy Hanna Montana, CAKE.  What started with a single friend asking to hire me to do her daughter's birthday cake has sprung up into a much bigger venture than I would ever have imagined.  It rules, it really does. It's also exhausting and involves hours at a time bent over the kitchen counter with a piping bag in my hand.  That's not nearly as dirty as it sounds.

2) Soccer.  Did I mention that I'm a full-blooded soccer mom now?  Yeah, when I first realized it I actually felt myself die, just a little, on the inside.  But then I was faced with this:

and, really, how could that possibly make a person feel anything but glee?  Wookit my wittle MAN-man, all dressed up in his uniform!  GAH! The cuteness! IT BURNS! (And entirely justifies the excessive use of capital letters and exclamation points right there.)

3) Sushi!  We've started rolling our own, and now it's addicting.  Sushi is the one food that everyone in the house can agree on -- even Tobin, aka "He who has been known to refuse bananas, bread, and basically every other food or food-like product".  So I've been perfecting my craft (which is to say I have been eating lots of sushi recently because, um, research?)

4) Garden.  Okay, so I haven't actually started a garden yet, but I have had every intention of doing so.  I bought seeds and I picked out a spot in the yard with perfect sun. I even looked up how to build raised bed boxes for the perfect backyard vegetable patch.  By next year I might even get some veggies planted.  For now, though, its a lovely little kitchen garden in my mind.

5) Lists!  Lists gets an exclamation mark because I am incredibly good at making lists.  If they gave out trophies for list-making I would have a mantle full of them. (If I had a mantle.)  I am basically Queen Of Listing.  (As in writing lists, not the art of drunkenly walking at an angle. Though I have done that once or twice, but I'm not very good at it.)  When it comes to making lists, however, I totally "make them my companion".  Bonus points if you watch enough news network television to get the reference. (Also, Hi! Pardon the ADD, it's entirely genetic and totally not my fault.)

So, Lists. I have been making a lot of them.  Most notable is the list I am compiling for Things I Shall Do This Year as part of my Year Without Fear.  I'm contemplating a trapeze lesson this summer.  Not even my idea!  But I it fell across my path and I might just have to do it because it seems to fit right in with the whole "grab life by the cojones" spirit of the project.  Did I mention I'm terrified of heights? And falling?  This should be fun.

Also on "The" List for this year are things like "get dirty playing with the kids" and "make a Baked Alaska".   Yeah, I'm hoping the ideas will get better as the year comes along.

Do you have any great ideas for things I could reasonably do this year that would be awesome and fun and not incredibly expensive (and also not incredibly dangerous because - hi! - 3 little boys expect me to be alive to tuck them in at night)?  Leave suggestions in the comments below!  (If it's something like "Dye your hair purple" you'll have to come up with a very good cause I could support by doing so.  This is about doing Good Things, people.)

So there's the sordid, somewhat partial tale of what I've been doing.  I'll maybe get around to telling you more later, but for the moment there is a cake waiting for fondant details to be constructed.

So allow me to leave you with this:

I'm telling you... the cutness! IT BURNS!

A Year Without Fear.

Dear Friends, Family, and Peoples of the Internets... Stay at Aum Mom is about to be forever changed. (Both the site and myself.)  And this is going to be big.  

Ready? * Deep Breath * Here goes...

On April 5 I will be 30 years old.  

In the last decade I have been through many transformations.  I have gone through the painful process of fleshing out who I am, what I believe, and where I want to be.  I have spent the last several years (and many dollars in therapy) identifying and acknowledging that I am, in many ways, controlled by my fears.  I inherited an oft-crippling anxiety from my mother, and a compulsive perfectionism from my father.  That's not a judgment on them, but rather an objective observation.

I have never given myself permission to fail.  If failure seemed a likely possibility, I have simply refused to try.  When I have tried, I have been dogged by the constant anxiety that I might make a mistake.  When I have made mistakes or failed at anything I have engaged in the most brutal mental self-flagellation imaginable.

Yes, on April 5 I will be 30 years old.  

For one entire year I am going to wake up every day and look at my life from a new perspective.  I am going to say "yes" to some things I would have said no to before, and I will say "no" to some things I would have agreed to in the past.

I am going to embrace new challenges, and I am not going to let myself quit out of fear of failure.  

I hereby declare this year my Year Without Fear.  In ways big and small, I am going to change my life.  I am going to change my self.  I am going to make an action out of my motto - "Live Life On Purpose".

So what does this all mean? (You and Big Daddy are asking the same question, believe me.)

To begin with, it doesn't mean anything too drastic.  I'm going to start with small things.  I'm going to maybe sometimes wear lipstick.  Did you know I don't really wear lipstick? I wear lip gloss in sheer shades, or lip balm.  Why? I suppose because I have always equated lipstick (especially bright lipstick) with confidence.  It always strikes me as a "look at me" sort of thing to do.  As if a nose ring and occasionally technicolor hair don't make the same statement.  See? I know that it's a silly thing.  It's a small thing.  But for me, it's a big thing.  It's something I have not allowed myself to do.  So I'm going to do it. 

I'm going to stop screening my phone calls, stop fearing the phone in general. I'm going to start wearing high heels again -- something I have stopped doing almost entirely since having babies. 

The idea is to start small, but to face every day with the attitude that I will not allow fear or anxiety to overrule reason in making any decision, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem.

I'm also giving myself permission to screw this up from time to time.  Because I am human (rumors to the contrary have been greatly exaggerated) and because another of my great, irrational fears comes from the knee-jerk response of blaming myself for everything that goes wrong.  

So this year I'm going to be more forgiving of myself.  I'm going to work harder, be braver, and laugh louder.

To top off my adventure, next year -- just before my 31st Birthday -- I will participate in St. Baldrick's Day, 2010.  I'm going to attend an official event and shave my head to raise funds to help cure childhood cancers.  I've always wanted to wear cute hats, but always been too self-conscious to go for it.  It looks like I'm going to have my chance.  (When the time comes a few months down the road for me to start collecting sponsors, I will post the link.  Prepare to click and donate, peoples.  I'll post plenty of photos for you to see the fruits of your labor after the deed is done.)

They say it takes 30 days to establish a habit.  I'm thinking that 365 days will make this one stick.

I'm hoping you'll come along with me for the journey.