Scent-illating

Driving home tonight in my car I had a plan.  I had this whole post all mapped out and ready to go.  

And let me tell you what.........IT.  WAS.  AWESOME.

But then the munchkin needed a bath and a bottle and lots of cuddles.  And quite frankly, even though the monitor is quiet except for the dulcet tones of U2 lullabies, I'm not really sure she's quite ASLEEP-ASLEEP yet.  

Anyways.

After thirty......okay, forty minutes of bedtime shenanigans, I sat down to write my blog and fill up the interwebs with all my astounding knowledge and wonderful words.

I find the pictures I need and get them all situated in the proper order of this soon-to-be-awesome post.....

AND................I go completely blank.  Where to start?  How to segue?  What was the real point of this blog?  Do I need THAT much backstory?  Ugh.

So I'm just going to go for it and dive in.

I used to live in a really awesome apartment.  It was on the third story facing west with big picture windows that let in just the right amount of rays during the day and evening that I hardly ever had to turn on the overhead lights.  Sure most of my furniture (except for my splurge on two couches) was from IKEA and the decor from Target but the fact of the matter was - it was decked out and fabulous.  I had a bar in the kitchen with stools and even a computer nook in the corner of the kitchen.  One of my favorite features was the built in bookcase in the dining room which displayed my huge collection of novels (okay, you're right - chick lit) and DVDs (NOT all chick flicks).  My bedroom had a huge walk-in closet complete with tons of fabulous clothes (Banana Republic, Ann Taylor - I miss you!!!) and at least 40 (yes, FORTY) pairs of high heels.  Outside the dining room was a fantastically large balcony where I had two huge Adirondack chairs perfect for sitting, reading, drinking a Shiner, smoking a cigarette (eek!) and watching the storms roll in from the west.  Out in the covered parking lot sat my baby Delilah, my fully loaded 2006 charcoal gray Acura TSX - the first brand new car that I had ever owned.  I was living large.  

Nevermind the fact that I was a binge drinking party animal who was completely lonely and desperately wanted the life I have now.  But that's neither here nor there.

The truth is - that apartment was my sanctuary.  My little quiet corner of the world where I could let things get as messy as I wanted, watch bad reality television while eating bad fast food on the coffee table and stay in bed playing Guitar Hero until 3:00 in the afternoon.  

That part of living on my own?  That's the part that I miss sometimes.  

Craig and I were dating during the last year that I lived in that place.  Long story short (and really, it's not quite my story to tell) Craig was living with his mom at the time despite renting an apartment of his own in a city pretty far away from our school.  The drive from my place to school was a little far for him to do during the week so he mostly stayed over on the weekends.....and maybe a lot more than that during the summer.  We played house in that apartment.  I cooked him dinner.  He carried my trash down three flights of stairs.  We sat on the couch watching movies and playing Peggle, passing the computer back and forth between the two of us.  It was those moments - the completely lame Tuesday nights spent watching bad television and giggling - that I realized I could marry this man.  Not because he was sweeping me off my feet (although he did plenty of that at times) but because it was comfortable.  It was easy.  It just flowed.  

I wrote a blog a while back about missing the *MAGIC* of dating......more specifically.......of those times spent in my apartment just the two of us hanging out and doing whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted.  I thought I was the only one that missed those times.  I know that Craig has everything in his life right now that he has ever wanted.  He's got his wife and best friend, his beautiful daughter, a gorgeous home and even a crazy mutt.  I thought maybe I was the bad one - the one wishing we could revisit those carefree moments without the responsibilities weighing down our day to day life.

I was wrong.

On Monday the weather was great, we had a day off and after an acute PPD attack on Sunday night - Craig knew he needed to get us out of the house.  We headed to a local "town square" with lots of open space to stroll Natalie around as well as some fun window shopping.  One of my favorite stops?  Anthropologie.  Mmmm....the clothes aren't really my style (or my size) but I absolutely adore their quirky home goods. 

Specifically?  THESE.

Voluspa - French Cade and Lavender

Voluspa - Santiago Huckleberry

I've been around the block with candles.  I have tried everything.  Scentsy, Tyler, Yankee, Slatkin & Co.  You name it, it's burned in my house.  But these are my absolute, hands down, 110% favorite candles of all time.  I can't really put a finger on why I love them so much.  Maybe it's that they're not your "typical" candle fragrances.  Maybe it's that they're from Anthropologie, cost $18 and make me feel fancy.  

Or maybe it's because one whiff of either of these candles and I'm instantly back in that apartment.

French Cade and Lavender was in my bedroom and Santiago Huckleberry was in the living room and they both burned constantly.

I picked up French Cade and Lavender, popped open the tin lid and held it out to Craig to smell.  He sniffed and his blue eyes flickered up at me, twinkling furiously.  

"Your apartment," he smirked at me followed by a wink and then he was off strolling with Natalie.

Aha.  He did remember.

And now I sit here with tears in my eyes because in that moment I knew that he hasn't forgotten those days.  He hasn't forgotten falling in love with me.  He hasn't forgotten the woman that he fell in love with. 

I think I know what I'm getting him for our anniversary.

Just what every man wants - an $18 candle from Anthropologie.

Past Life

Let's be honest.  I don't watch quality television.  My favorite channel is Bravo.  I watch the Housewives and I revel in their stupidity and their drama....probably because I'm happy that I don't have "friends" like them in my own life.  Since August I've been watching Most Eligible Dallas and it turned out to be one of my favorites - probably because I recognize the nightlife scene and I can somewhat relate to their sense of humor, morals, expectations, etc. when it comes to life and dating. 

The other night was the season finale and the "will they, won't they" moment between the two featured people, Matt Nordgren and Courtney Kerr.  They are two best friends who everyone in their circle believes are in love and should be dating each other and the whole season was built around this dance that they did of flirting and fighting. 

I can relate.

When I first met Craig there was a large group of us at my former school that hung out together after hours at Thursday afternoon happy hours and Saturday evening get togethers.  There was a lot of flirting.  A lot of eye contact.  A lot of innuendos.  A lot of heart fluttering and butterflies in the belly.  And a ton of speculation from our friends and co-workers. 

And our "season finale, will they or won't they moment" when we finally kissed for the first time?!  Not as romantic as Courtney and Matt's hot tub rendezvous at the lake, but instead as he was "tucking" me into bed after I sprained my ankle playing basketball against 6th graders.  He had come over after his 8th grade basketball games to bring me dinner and make sure that I had everything that I needed.  I'll admit.  I was a little nervous and definitely scared to try and date him.  I had dated my best guy friend a few years previous and after we broke up I had lost not only his friendship but the friendship of the circle of guys that we had hung out with together.  Craig was my best friend and I didn't want to lose him but at the same time, there was definitely that spark and chemistry between us.

So where am I going with this?

I got a little sentimental watching Most Eligible and I had a mixture of jealousy and sadness in there as well.  Being married is wonderful....most of the time.  There is a sense of security in knowing that I have a partner in life - someone that will back me up but also challenge me to be a better person.  Life is better with Craig as my husband that I know for sure.  But in the back of my mind there is a little part of me that misses the mystery, the guessing game, the flirting. 

My best-friend Amy has been married for more than seven years and she will be the first one to say it - marriage is always like a roller coaster and everything circles around in seasons.  Right now for Craig and I, life is crazy and hectic and we don't have a chance to catch our breath much less any time for romance.  It's not ideal and I would like to be able to slow down and enjoy each other's company a little bit more, but I know that it will circle around.

And although the guessing game that Craig and I played was fun, exciting and entertaining, I wouldn't want to return to that point in my life.  It's fun to reminisce about the "good ol days" but when you get right down to it, I wouldn't trade in my current life even with all the craziness and exhaustion.

Past Life

I have an almost debilitating addiction in my life....to the Bravo network on television.  Whatever Andy Cohen decides to produce, I will watch.  The Housewives, Flipping Out, Millionaire Matchmaker - I love it all.  Miss Andy's newest venture has landed here in the Metroplex and features six young and hot singles living and working in Big D. 

Most Eligible Dallas had me a bit skeptical at first - was it going to be like that bomb Miami Social of which I only watched one episode before cutting out?  Nope.  I'm hooked.  Maybe it's the fact that I get to scour each episode trying to figure out where exactly they are and if I've eaten at that restaurant before.  Or maybe I'm a bit nostalgic for the days when I ran all around North Texas from one bar to the next and getting to hang out with my big group of friends at my own leisure. 

Post college was a blur of the neon lights of bars in Ft. Worth and big bar tabs in Addison.  I relate to these people - the group of friends that I hung out with in my early twenties could have easily comprised the cast of this show.  Jennifer and Zach: the ambitious almost married couple living and working in downtown Ft. Worth; Cody: the lovable goofball with the most brilliant one-liners...but not the best of luck with the ladies; Justin and Laura: semi-high school sweethearts each trying to figure out their place in the working world....and possibly in a relationship with one another; Meggie and Ryan: a traditional romantic and a irreverant cowboy that secretly fell in love but are now living their own fairytale.

Where was Andy Cohen six years ago?!  I could have been a Bravo reality star!  Ha!

But in all honesty, although those crazy years of my life were some of the most heartbreaking and confusing, I wouldn't change it for anything because I think it has made me so much more appreciative of the life that I have carved for myself in suburbia with the hubs, the pup and the baby girl.

Words of Advice

While catching up on my DVR, I came across an episode of "18 Kids and Counting" and the mother, Michelle, was asked an interesting question:

"If you could meet the 21 year old version of yourself, what would you say or what differences would there be?"

That got me thinking...what would I tell younger versions of myself?

Age 5: What an amazing imagination you have...you've given me the best memories of my childhood.
The response: Wanna play Barbies with me? My brother Mike always does.

Age 10: Don't get the perm!!!
The response: But I want wavy hair like everyone else!

Age 13: God gave you this height so you can be better than everyone else; quit complaining about it and start using it.
The response: Who cares about being the best at basketball when no boy likes me and there aren't any cool jeans that are long enough?

Age 15: Apply yourself...your good is great but your great is outstanding. And quit trying to compete with her...you've got her beat in the humor and likability category.
The response: I'm not going to be as smart as those kids and why try harder when I'm already making straight A's?

Age 18: Really? Another shot? Do you really think that's a WISE decision?
The response: You sound like my Mom. Shut up.

Age 21: You're okay and everything will work out...just be patient.
The response: When? Because I'm ready now.

I guess the moral of the story is that hindsight is always 20/20 and there were already people along the way telling me the things that I would eventually want to tell my former self. So that puts me in an interesting spot - should I quit telling my students all the things that I needed to hear because they're going to have to learn it for themselves or should I not stop because I will never know the morsel of wisdom that will stick with them and help them in the future?

There are a few things that my teachers said growing up that really stuck with me...
- My choir teacher, Mr. Antinone telling me that I was an underachiever. I wasn't an underachiever...I was just taking your class to get my Art credit for high school graduation.
- My Senior PEAK English teacher, Mrs. Edgington leveling with me about the Senioritis I had= Retiree-itis that she had...and we both still had to do our work until the last day of school.
- A random Sophomore English teacher in college that allowed me to "prove" to her that the Beatles were in fact poets in an essay.
- My high school basketball coach, Coach DeBord telling me that if I spent as much time in the gym as my boyfriend (a fellow basketball player) that maybe I would be as good as him. Awesome Coach...and you wondered why I quit. It's okay...I'm sure you were relieved to get rid of me.

So maybe I shouldn't quit saying those things...and maybe I should make sure that they are only nice things because I would hate for them to remember me like I remember my high school coach.

Wasted Energy

I've spent my life wasting energy on being angry. Angry at the kids who tormented me for being tall in elementary school, angry at my mother for not being what I thought I wanted her to be in middle school, angry at God for making me the way I am, angry at the superficial girls in my sorority for making me feel less than them because I didn't have the right clothes, boyfriend or car, angry at David for leaving my life in such shambles, angry at so many guys for tossing me aside.....but mostly, I've always been angry at myself for everything I am and everything that I'm not.

I have spent a lot of time moving forward along in life, but yet at the same time, looking back at events in my life and how they have created the person I am today. Retrospection can be a good thing - learning from past mistakes, such as bad haircuts, too much alcohol on an empty somach and not studying for tests. But blaming the way I am on things that have happenend in my past? I can't blame my insecurities on other people any more.

I've been angry at myself for not being "perfect." For not always knowing exactly what to say, when to say it and how to deliver it without stepping on any toes. For not always looking perfectly put together. For not having this adult life totally figured out. For not keeping everyone around me happy with me. An entire doctorate thesis could probably be writeen on my self-anger. But what has it led to? At certain points in my life it has shown itself in the form of self destructive behaviors like drinking excessively. At others it surfaced as devastating anxiety attacks. Most recently it was a deep and debilitating bout with eating disorders. Were any of these healthy? Obviously not. So therefore, one could logically conclude that the self-anger isn't working out for me anymore. Well, it was never really working out for me, but it has definitely taken a turn for the worse recently.

It's time for a new life plan - a mental adjustment you might say.

I can't be angry at myself for any of those things anymore. The only thing that I can be angry about is that I haven't noticed this sooner, which is again - counterproductive.

I've doubted myself every step of the way - was I wearing the right clothes, did I say the right thing, am I making the right choice? I always looked to other people for the answers because I never trusted myself enought to come to the right conclusion. And, if things didn't work out the way they were supposed to, I didn't have to take any of the blame - I could just pass the buck on to someone else's poor decision making. But why shouldn't I trust myself? Look at my parents - they are responsible, well adjusted adults. They have provided me with more than enough tools to become a functioning adult on my own. But more than a functioning adult (anyone can pay the bills on time) but an acutal functioning human that learns to adequately cope with day to day events.

Life is short. At the end of a person's life, they don't look back and regret not staying angry at themselves or other people for longer amounts of time.

This anger takes up so much of my time and energy. And it's pushing people away.

I remember the moment when I woke up one morning and I was tired of being angry at David. I realized that he wasn't a part of my life anymore and therefore blaming him for me having a crappy Tuesday afternoon wasn't working. I refused to give him anymore power over my feelings.

Therefore, today I am refusing to give the power to that little voice inside my head that tells me I'm not good enough because I'm not perfect. I was made exactly the way God intended me to be.

I must come to reconcile the fact that I'm going to make mistakes. People will get angry with me. I will have to deal with the consequenes of bad decision making. I can't go through life desperately trying to tip toe around anything and everything that might cause me failure. In my head, I always was of the notion that failure wasn't an option. Growing up as an athlete, it was a phrase ingrained into my head. Of course failure isn't an option, because if it was, everyone would obviously choose success. Failure is an inevitbale event. It will happen in my life and I can't keep avoiding situations in which I could possibly fail. If I do that, nothing exceptional will ever happen. I will never have the life I truly want; more importantly, I will never have the love that I desire.

I have been so decided determine din my life not to screw up in relationships, that I think I actually end up being my own worst enemy because I lose who I am by turning myself into a pretzel trying to be the "perfect" girlfriend. And now I think I might have someone in my life who sees me not through rose-colored glasses, but with a clear view of who I am and what I'm about. And my own insecurities are getting in the way of allowing him to love me in his own unique manner. As much as I realize that I'm not perfect, nor will I ever be, I must come to the logical conclusion that he is not perfect either, nor should I expect him to be. He will make me mad sometimes. And I will most certainly piss him off as well. Is this the end of the world? It shouldn't be. I should have the confidence that I'm a pretty spectacular person and even though he might not want to be around me because of his frustration, that in no certain terms mean that he's throwing me away. I guess I have to trust him and trust his feelings for me. But at the same time, that pesky self-anger issue sneaks up again. In retrospect, I look at how I behaved and I agree with him - he should be angry at me, which in turn makes me angry at myself for my actions. Then the evil self-deprecating cycle begins and before you know it, I am in a very bad and dark place.

So what's a girl to do? How exactly does on banish that nasty little voice in her head? Grab an old priest and a young priest and hope one doesn't end up head first down the stairs? I think the voice will respond best a big fat dose of "SHUT THE HELL UP."

Wild Child

I have a good friend named Kristin, who I am going to be traveling through Europe with in about 10 days. Kristin and I were raised in similar families: upper middle class, happily married parents, strong foundation in community and church, etc. We both felt enormous pressure to be the "perfect" girls. The ones who people looked at and said: "what a fantastic young lady." And being a "fantastic young lady" never felt like it included being a "normal" teenager. It meant never drinking, never staying out past our curfew, never sneaking out of the house...all of which meant never having any fun to Kristin and myself.

I tried to play the part of the good girl, but my heart was never truly in it. I wanted to stay out all night. I wanted to be a party girl. I wanted anything that was drastically different from what my parents thought was right.

Kristin and I figured out our own little manipulative ways of keeping up appearances to our parents, to the community and to the school that we were still perfect little angels that never did anything wrong. As could be expected, it didn't last forever and after one forgettable St. Patrick's Day during my junior year of high school, the halo slipped off, I fell from the pedestal, I was grounded for a month, and my actions were monitored much closer from then until high school graduation day. I won't go into the details, but in the words of myself at 16 - it sucked.

That curbed any rebellion for awhile. But after graduation...all bets were off. It started with our parents being out of town and continued for about three and a half years into college. Maybe it was a sign of deeper issues, or just the freedom of being able to stretch out my wings, but I went wild in college. I joined a sorority which practically shoved a drink in your hand the minute you rushed.

I was hung over on my first ever day of college. Please keep in mind that this was an 8:00 class on a Monday morning.

I enjoyed the drinking and the partying. I enjoyed looking cute, going out with a big group of girls and that feeling of having an entire night full of interesting possibilities. Who would we meet? What drama would unfold, which we would always rehash the next morning? Would that cute guy from the party call? (PS - he never ever called) How would the girls in our rival sororities drunkenly embarrass themselves, for which we would revel in the idea that we a superior, classier group of women? Neverminding the fact that it had, in fact, been us the week before making complete fools of ourselves on the back patio of RBar in front of a group of ZTAs or KKGs.

I was NOT, by far, the hardest drinker of the bunch. Those girls were weeded out quickly by the end of freshman year. They just drifted away...and none of their "sisters" ever cared to find out what happened to them, or to even worry about their drinking problem in the first place. But I had my moments when I would somehow find myself waking up on the bathroom floor, wondering how I had gotten home. I am completely ashamed to admit this to you, whether you are my friends, my family or my coworkers.

And through all the insanity, the post flag football drinks at State Club, the pre partying before and after Date Parties, and the pre partying before RBar and then to the frat houses after RBar...I somehow kept my grades up. It was like, if I was doing well in school...then there wasn't a problem.

If I met the 19 year old version of myself right now out at a party...I wouldn't like her. I would see her as a stupid, young, brat who had no idea of the manner in which she was presenting herself. I still see girls like this at the bar and they absolutely disgust me.

So...when did it all stop? When did I grow up?

Well, up until my junior year of college (I was still 20) drinking had been fun. Luckily, I had survived the first few years of college drinking without a ticket, an arrest, or being physically/mentally/emotionally damaged in any way. Drinking was fun - it was something to do at the end of the week...I had never truly experienced the darkest depths of what drinking could do to someone.

Then I met him. I met and fell in love with an alcoholic that made me so terrified of drinking. I saw the effects that it had on him and I tried my damnest to stay sober - someone in the relationship had to be. He literally scared me straight.

But, I think he's been given more than enough discussion in this blog already.

And you're probably asking yourself: What does all this have to do with anything?

Since graduating college, I have been living in two completely separate worlds and it is getting exhausting being two people.

Half of me is a teacher - a person who is respected in the community, someone who has a huge responsibility to be a role model to impressionable teenagers.

The other half of me is still that wild party girl from college. I'm only 23 - just because I graduated college doesn't mean that I'm going to lay down and die.

Maybe it all comes back to that point of I always saw my own teachers on this pedestal, and I think that I have to live up to this impossible ideal of who I should be, and how I should live my life.