Magic Bullets II

One of the things I like best about being a Domestic Diva is that you can wield awesome power phrases like "New Rule" and "It's Tradition" at will. Having these two phrases in your daily arsenal is like having John Wayne and Clint Eastwood getting your back. You don't mess with the Diva when she's whipping these babies out. Once in awhile, I give my husband a head's up before instituting a New Rule, and if I'm feeling really good, he gets a choice of options, for a New Tradition. Once, he tried to make his own New Rule and I laughed out loud at his lack of vocal conviction and fortitude. You don't pull these bad boys out unless you can stand behind them.

When I left the workforce as a full time drone, I discovered the power of instituting "New Rules". I think I was mostly trying to come to grips with my new 24/7 reality, where previously, rules might be suggested and not really enforced. As the first few months shaped my inner Diva I often found myself increasing my vocal range as I lectured the fam: "New Rule: We always rinse our ice cream bowls! New Rule: We don't scream with delight while running down the hallway in our underpants until after 8am! New Rule: If either one of us hasn't showered in the last day...forget about it!" It worked. NR's wer my new BFF's. Three years later, I can honestly say that the quantity of NR's has decreased, though I have had to revisit a few of them: "Um, remember the rule about mommy needing coffee before anyone speaks in the morning?" I'd like to think that my family has finally recognized my supreme Diva wisdom; what's more likely though, is that they behave so that the Crazy Diva stays on vacation.

"It's Tradition!" (BTW, this must be said with the most perky voice you can muster) is another great tool afforded to the Diva. I'm not talking about being traditional in a red plaid sort of way, but of introducing those lovely get out of jail Diva gems called family traditions. In our house, we have one that is firmly entrenched: Popcorn Sunday's. This means that every Sunday we have popcorn for dinner. Lots of it. I carry this one over from my mom. Her mom had Sandwich Sunday's. Can you see the beauty of either one? Because I think that pizza should be it's own food group, I'm slowly sneaking in Pizza Saturday's (also from dear ol' mom). And the other one I declared this year is: Frisbee Golf Mother's Day, in which no one has to get dressed up, eat out, wait in line, or fight over jello salad at the buffet. I'd love nothing more than a deserted course, my family, and nine baskets of fun for Mother's day. (Okay boys, this Diva is sending a big hint your way....) What traditions do for me is get rid of the meal planning, event planning, and day to day life planning that I endlessly do. Traditions also help moderate expectations and are great for creating consistency, which means this Diva doesn't have to contingency plan either. Score!

Now, I'm a gal that works well with rules. I like things defined and orderly and so all of the above works for me. It wouldn't however, unless I tempered it all with a healthy dose of love. I think me and the fam are on to bigger and better things, but I'll retain users privleges on these babies for awhile yet. After all, A Diva is not a Diva without a few magic bullets up her sleeve.

The Note

There are two separate topics for blogs running around my head, but I can't help putting those off in favor of someone else's words tonight. They are just too rich and yummy to keep all to myself. My lovely Kiel thought of me when he found this tasty morsel. Oh, to re-live the days of giddy delight and anticipation of New Love's sweetness, with letter O's mysteriously shape-shifting into hearts, and Post Scripts detailing the most important message in the world. Young love. Infatuation. Heartsickness. Whatever you call it, and however embarrassing it might be to you now, it is a sweet thing to recall.

THE NOTE

Set-up: Yellow Steno note paper, uneven tear at the top, dated and timed (which cracked me up), recipient name in large passable cursive across the whole top line, the body electric, in neat print, signed in cursive with a heart after her name....all names will be omitted to protect the innocent, spelling is all hers, and my text will be parenthesized.

5/7/08
4:27 pm
SL

My love has grown for you
over the past 2 weeks. I'm
deeply dedicated to you now. I'm
going to love you until the
day I die, no matter what happens.
Now I realize that your much
more than a friend. We were
destined to be together from day 1, and we
both know that were soul mates [smiley face].
One day I {am going to} WILL marry you. [smiley face]
(am going to is crossed out and replaced with a very dark "will")

I LOVE YOU !
P.S.
That day in the practice room,
when we first kissed...I knew
we were going to be together
for a very long time [heart]

-B [heart]

We should all write one of these to our favorite honey and remind them that age, wrinkles, babies, and time, cannot extinguish that ardent desire we once had. C'mon, you know you've still got it in you.

Thank You

Been going through some personal stuff lately. Mostly, I've been unsatisfied with the state of my life as far as my physical and emotional health. I've been lazy about fixing either and have relied on a few friends to help me through this time. I owe a big thank you to everyone that has listened to me crab about not being in shape and encouraged me to find a way to make it happen, and a bigger thank you to those who have patiently listened to the boring monologues about my life without slapping me silly. Sometimes it's the forest for the trees, right?

I am happy to say that my new workout routine has me feeling more fit, energized, and confident. Bring on the sunshine and lets get out and play!

The spiritual/emotional issues at hand will take some fine tuning, and I feel ready for the challenge. We are all a work in progress and work is the operative word most of the time. It is both scary and exciting to move out of a particular comfort zone and change behaviors that have become all too familiar. Two fabulous friends have told me that "you can't change the way other people are, you can only change yourself" (paraphrased) and it's taken me almost 35 years to really understand that. This month brings another year to my life; I pray it is one that shows some much needed growth in the areas of love, grace, and respect-for myself, and those that I hope to remain close to for life. You, my friends and family, are precious beyond words. Without you, there would be no Chelsea Dawn, so thank you a hundred times over for your faithful presence and gentle guidance in my life.

Lucas Reilly

Lucas is walking! He's been hovering in the almost walking zone for a few weeks, but really started to walk for locomotion, not just practice, about 5 days ago. This means that my prediction that he'd be walking at 10 months was true. (Yeah for Mom!) He's now eleven months and has started to pick up the pace a bit already. He does his best barefoot of course, his little toes gripping the floor as he moves along, but even in his new sporty Vans he's getting around. He protested their existence at first, but he's already learned that once mom has her mind made up there is little use in complaining.

It's a big thing this walking business. I'm loving it, he's loving it and David is running for cover when he needs too. We've taught David to "go high" when he wants some space from the ever attentive and affectionate Baby Monster. So David keeps company with his dinosaurs and new V-tech computer that Bart gave him in the window seat quite often. It's better than hitting Lucas or knocking him over or hearing them whine at each other. The window seat is David's place, so when Lucas gets to visit, he is just ecstatic.

Speaking of ecstasy, Lucas has three things he is in love with right now. The broom, the swiffer mop, and the dishwasher. I had to put the broom in another closet because he was licking it way too much for my comfort. Ever since he could crawl he has loved the broom. He did and does chase me around when I sweep trying to catch it or disrupt the pile of dirt it creates. I used to play defense with my leg to keep him at bay; now I'm just fast. The swiffer mop is lighter and cleaner (as I remove the disposable dust thing) and it's a close second to the broom. If the pantry door opens he is there rooting around for it. He wields it like a knight's lance or javelin depending on his mood. Now that he can stand, he yells with utter delight, handle in hand, one foot off the floor, ready for action. Then there is the dishwasher. Ohhhh the delight of the dishwasher. At first, it was the soap dispenser...Hey this opens and closes. Then came the bottom rack...Hey, I can move this in and out and pull things out of here. Then the ultimate discovery: If no one is looking, I can spread eagle face down on the door and lick that cool, cool plastic. Ohhh, it's just heavenly.

He's still in the mouth-as-primary-sensory-unit stage, so it's only natural that the dishwasher door, broom and swiffer should be licked. What else is it there for? When removed from these beloved items he protests like you've just chastised him for some wrongdoing. It cracks me up, these utilitarian love affairs. I can only hope that his infatuation will stick around through his teenage years, when he can put them to use as intended, and wonder what will come next.