Dream It, and Then Just Do It

 

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Photo by Pixabay

I was reminded today that if you want something you just have to go for it. It’s easy to sit and dream away the pounds, spend the money you will earn from all the success you are planning, hear the accolades in your head from those who are inspired by your work, imagine how your book will smell when you flip the pages, how the cover will emulate the amazing words on the inside, what kind of author picture you will take and how it will look sitting in the Barnes and Nobles….sorry, got distracted by my fantasy 😊

It’s important to dream, we need to dream, small, big, feasible and even what some may call impossible.  Dreaming fuels us, it’s exciting, it drives us outside of our comfort zone toward where we are meant to be, but many times this is where we stay, in dreamland. We know what we have to do, we know that in order to run a marathon we must train, and yet as we dream of the finish line, the early mornings, the long miles and the sacrifices are just not as glamorous as the medal. We know that in order to have a successful business, we must build it from nothing, and it takes time, effort, blood, sweat and tears, and in order to publish a book, you must write one. We know this, and yet we sit in dreamland, frustrated our dream hasn’t happened yet and wondering why.

You may have figured out by now, this is really my personal pep talk. I need to replace all the we’s with I’s, but I feel better about myself if I’m not the only one getting lectured 😉The frustration I have for myself can sometimes be overwhelming because every time I think I’ve defeated that pesky fear, it shows up as procrastination, social media, Netflix binges, social media, cleaning out and organizing closets that have never bothered me until the moment I sit down to write, and social media. Man, I really need social media anonymous. Its just so easy to fall into the blackhole of pointless thought, cute dogs and funny cats. It’s like a vacation for the mind, but it can be so difficult to reign it in.

Fear masks itself in many tricky ways, but the worst is when it appears in its true form, and whispers, “you’re not good enough”.  However, this post is my reminder, that the last time I looked fear in the face for the lie it really is, I wrote my first children’s book cover to cover 13k words in 10 days. I just did it and it felt amazing.  

So today, after getting into the ring with fear once again I am reminding myself of that moment, and how I squeezed my dream tight, let it go and then chased it until it was mine.  Our dreams are ours, in our hearts, on so many personal levels for so many reasons, but until we make up our minds to share it, that’s exactly where it will stay, but the moment we let go and begin to chase it, the more likely that dream will become our reality.

Keep dreaming, and just go for it!

Much Love,

Lisa J

Happy New…Wait, What Year Is It?

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So, I told this story to a friend today and we laughed and laughed and then she insisted I blog about it so I listened, because she’s brilliant. 😊  While the following is quite entertaining and ridiculous at the same time, I also believe it’s a testament of my age and the fact that the New Year’s celebrations each year are pretty much the same…lots of people, lots of alcohol, lots of dancing, lots of confetti, some awkward moments…I may be sleeping, I’m probably sleeping, oh, I’m sleeping… and the ball drops.

This year, like several before, we decided to play it safe, light a fire in the fireplace, chill a bottle of champagne for ourselves and white grape juice for the kids and have a relaxing night in the comfort of our home. Don’t yawn yet, we did add a little excitement and play some 2000s Trivial Pursuit. To others, this may sound lame, you may even call me old, but to me, this is the perfect night, hanging out in my pjs, drinking some beers and getting my butt handed to me in a board game.

During our night of debauchery, like every New Year’s Eve we at least like to watch the live broadcast of the countdown. However, Trivial Pursuit was intense and I lost track of time, so at about 11:30 I scrolled through YouTube, because we only have the fire stick because cable is highway robbery, looking for the live broadcast, found it, clicked it and continued our question and answer battle, commenting on the different New Year’s hosts and venues of the evening.

About 20 minutes later my daughter, laughing out loud, somewhat obnoxiously, says, “Mom, why do they keep saying 2018, are you watching the last years New Year’s parties?”

Of course, my initial reaction was “No don’t be ridiculous, I purposely and consciously made sure I clicked the current live broadcast…” long pause…

“Oh, this is last year’s”.

Yep for the last 25 minutes of 2018 we were watching the last 25 minutes of 2017.

Thankfully we caught it about 5 minutes before midnight, while if we tuned in sooner, we would have watched the exact same ball drop in New York for the second time this year, we did catch Chicago ringing in 2019.

Once again, Happy New Year and may it be filled with so much laughter (and intense board games) you only see the sunshine and not the rain.

Much Love,

Lisa J.

Tales of a Three Year Old – Blue is the Color of the Sky, and…

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Photo by Pixabay

Ever since my daughter could hold a crayon, she loved to color and draw. Not only did she love it, she was pretty dang good at it. Out of both my children, I consider her my artistic, creative child (my mini-me). When she got older, the coloring had turned into writing and illustrating, and she continues to inspire me.

As early as two and three years old, my daughter started to find her creative side and I never wanted to limit this creativity. I always wanted her to  feel she could express herself in that way so I never put a ton of boundaries on her imagination when it came to her “projects”.  If she didn’t stay in the lines, or wanted to paint the sky pink I celebrated the uniqueness instead of correcting or boxing in her ideas. I did, however, have rules as to what she could draw on, and she always abided by that rule. (Except maybe one time at my parents’ when she had a little party with a black marker. In my opinion, she was protesting the wallpaper, and I couldn’t argue with her on that point). Besides that one instance, I never worried about my walls being covered in crayon rainbow murals or wood table sketched with pencil stick figures. I did find out however, that being specific regarding the details of this rule is quite necessary to a three year old.

It was a quiet even, nothing out of the ordinary, and I had tucked my daughter into bed, sang her favorite song and kissed her goodnight. Later, before I called it an evening, I went to check in on her. I could see from the doorway how adorable she was, breathing softly, curled up on her side, looking like an angel. I walked closer to make sure she was covered up and noticed something on her hand. Curious, I flipped on the hallway light to not wake her, and went back to reexamine things more thoroughly. To my surprise her hand was colored completely blue. I immediately check the walls and they were untouched, but as I looked closer at my sweet blonde princess, I realized that by allowing my three year old to express herself with no boundaries had backfired. Not only were both her hand graced with her artistic skills, but her arms, legs, cheeks, nose and forehead were an ocean blue. She looked like one of the Smurfs. I was in awe and wanted to be upset, but she so looked so ridiculous I couldn’t help but laugh and went to get the camera.

My three year old obeyed my rule of what not to draw on, so how could I be upset, I just never imagined that I would need to be much more specific on the proper use of a marker. I was taught another valuable lesson that night, and could do nothing but shake my head and chalk it up as one of those three year old moments.

Much Love,

Lisa J.

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The one time we did let her paint the wall 🙂 Blue seemed to be her color!

Tales of a Three-Year-Old – Let’s Eat Out They Said, It’ll Be Fun, They Said

 

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Innocent right?! Ha 🙂

Isn’t it so very entertaining how there is no one who can turn such a proud moment into such an embarrassing one quite like your three-year-old? Going out in public was like playing Russian roulette, it could go smooth and easy, or you could be shooting yourself in the foot. You just never knew, which made for a rollercoaster of emotion that could lead to walking out of a restaurant with your head held high or slinking out the emergency exit praying nobody saw your face.

One morning while on vacation, we decided to eat breakfast at the hotel buffet. As the waitress seated us, we all were drooling over the spread filled with eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, fruit, pie and donuts. It was a breakfast lover’s dream, and being drawn in by the smells, it never occurred to me that being seated directly next to the food may constitute some worry. Fortunately, my three-year-old snapped me out of my trance and I would never make that mistake twice.

As we were sitting in our booth discussing how it is inappropriate to play with the ice in your water glass, and after the third or fourth time I requested that my son sit in his seat, and stop sliding under the table, he jumped up into a standing position, his eyes wide as saucers, his arms out and stiff as statues and without moving an inch due to what I can only explain as panic, announced to the entire restaurant, including the people in line at the buffet….

I HAVE TO POOP!!

It was like the whole restaurant went silent and all eyes were fix on the four of us. I was horrified and felt the sudden urge to get in line and pretend this was not my family. However, my son made it quite clear he knew who I was as he jumped up and down on bench, suddenly not so paralyzed and directing his focus in my direction, as he continued to repeat himself over and over again until I had no choice but to snatch him up and carry him to the nearest restroom, shushing him and praising him under my breath for telling me, as he laughed all the way there.

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So lucky he was cute 🙂

Tales of a Three-Year Old – Are You Smarter Than a Three Year Old

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Photo by Pixabay

Before my son was born I knew he was bound to be a handful. My pregnancy was not exactly glowing and, due to his impatience, I was ordered on bedrest for three very long months. Needless to say, it was not a surprise when he came into the world full of energy, with vocal cords that put lead singers in heavy metal bands to shame with the same ability to party all night without sleep.

As difficult as the first two years were, it was still bittersweet when my son turned three. He was finally out of the all-night cry fests, and I was adjusting quite well to sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. On the other hand, my little bald-headed, baby-faced toddler with big blue eyes was slowly growing into a little man. Instead of wobbling while he walked, and falling down out of clumsiness, he was running full throttle, and literally crashing himself into whatever was in his way.

In this transition, potty training had begun, or at least the attempt to potty train. The concept did not completely sink in with my son until a couple months after his third birthday. It took a lot of patience and constant reinforcement, but when he finally got it, it stuck. Especially once he learned that he earned candy after each successful trip to the bathroom.

While this is one of many stories that have taught me to never underestimate the intelligence of a child, it was one of the first that made me question my own intelligence. It was the holiday season, and my kids and I were visiting with friends. After they had consumed a package of Pez each, and a few pieces of chocolate, I advised them that there would be no more candy. My son, being the sugar fiend he is, was displeased with my decision to cut him off. When the puppy dog eyes didn’t work, he resorted to attempting to break my friend, however, she, of course, backed me up. After an extended period of begging and pleading, his eyes suddenly got wide as saucers, and his face brightened, as if a light bulb went off in his head.

My friend and I stood waiting to see what would happen next and how far he would go to obtain his sugar fix. He rushed to the bathroom, and after he finished his business, he stood at my feet and as I looked down, he smiled and said, in his sweet, innocent but conniving voice, “Can I have candy now peez, I went potty”?

He used our very hard work against me, and I was outsmarted by a three-year old. He got his candy that day, not just for using the potty, but also for leaving two adults rendered speechless with no viable defense.

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This one is actually my son, running as fast as he could in the opposite direction he needed to be. We were fools to think he would retrieve the ball on the other side of the fence without incident. He was three and he was sure entertaining 🙂