The Universe Loves Me, It Really Loves Me!

I have been having an affair for some time now.

With the Universe.

Don’t worry, my husband, Thurston Howell the Fourth, knows all about it. In fact, he’s totally fine with it.  He understands and accepts that there’s no fighting a love like this!

Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband a lot. He’s the absolute best man for me on the whole planet. There’s just one thing.

He’s only human.

Still, my Thurston brought sexy back long before Justin Timberlake. And you can surely see why, right?  Is he not absolutely adorable? Incidentally, that scar on his cheek is from the time he saved me from a giant 420-pound coconut crab (a.k.a. Birgus latro), the largest anthropod in the world.  (Actually, Thurston doesn’t smoke, but I think the cigarette makes him look exactly like the Marlboro Man.  Smokin’ hot, don’t you think?) 

Did I just digress or what? It happens every time I talk about my little scarface. So, let’s get back to my love affair with the Universe, shall we? ‘Cause that thing is B-I-G!

Don’t laugh but I once wrote the Universe a love letter. I’ll share it with you. It’s kinda embarrassing but, who cares?

And guess what?  The Universe wrote me back! By email. I am not sh!ttin’ you. This is the email:

A Note from the Universe
InboxX
TUT/The UniverseX
 Reply |The Universe to theworstmother
show details Oct 5

 TWM, I can’t even remember the last time I was this excited for you over all that you’re on the verge of doing, being, and having.
Just sayin’ –
    The Universe

ps: actually, there was that one time, just before this very life began….!

I was in shock. This is a snapshot of me (taken by the Universe) at the very moment I read the note:

I was so excited. I was on the verge of something. Something big. And the Universe has known about this all along?

Even before I got here?

doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo

That’s some crazy sh!t, Batman.

And then I had this ultra cool thought:

The Universe Has My Back

Yup, the Universe has my back every second of every minute of every day. In fact, I came to realize that I didn’t have to know EVERYTHING (what a relief!).  And–I came to trust that the Universe always always knows what it is doing. After all, something that big must know what it’s doing, right?

So now, when I have a problem I can’t figure out, I just hand it over to the Universe to take care of. It’s like having a virtual assistant.

No matter how many problems I present it with, the Universe listens patiently, without judgment, while holding a great big space (pun intended) for me to dump the contents of my endless mind poop. 

Now that’s what I call having excellent listening skills.

And then, after I get everything off my chest, I just wait around.

But in a good way. I do stuff I enjoy. I don’t worry…. as much.

And without fail the Universe sends me The Answer.

Sometimes when I least expect it. 

Just like that, The Answer pops into my head. When I’m not thinking.

It’s not always the answer I would have predicted, or expected. Sometimes it’s downright bizarre. Other times I don’t like the answer. One time, the answer was simply “Yes“.  That’s it. So, I said, “yes”.  And it worked! (ps: I always know it’s the right answer because I feel it in my gut).

And that is why I am in mad love with the Universe.  It always knows what’s best for me.

Even when Especially when I don’t. 

Hey, if you want to get notes from the Universe, go here.

Have fun.

And remember, the Universe is all mine.

But we can share.

**Note back to Universe: Thanks for sending Thurston to me. He is the love of my life.

–

My Vitamix Does Not Complete Me!

It may come as a surprise to many of you but I shmanclonn flook. I mean, I blangnok crook.

Okay, I CANNOT COOK!

There, I said it.

But there’s an explanation.

Apparently I have a defect on chromosome 14 (b), a.k.a. the cooking skills chromosome.

I admit, it’s hard on everyone in my family. I feel bad. I really do. But I think I make up for it with all my other excellent skills: I can run really fast on ice while flossing; I can type backwards; AND I can make stuff up.  It’s a gift.

Don’t hate me because I’m multi-talented.

However, back to my culinary skills, ahem, non-culinary skills, I mean, unskilled culinarianism–whatever you want to call it–I thought I had finally found a solution. After all these years, I thought I was going to be able to make dinner for my family.

Actually, I was counting on a machine to make them dinner, or at the very least soup. Called the Vitamix, it’s been all the rage. Everybody’s been getting one.  Ergo, I had to have one, too.

I was sooooo excited, as you can see by the expression on my face, above.

Wait, here’s a close up so that you can better appreciate how excited I really and truly was…

Okay, well, that’s embarrassing.   It appears I have broccoli stuck in my teeth. Please disregard.

What’s important is that this really big and powerful machine that everyone was talking about also promised to make me a better mother. At least I think I read that somewhere in the fine print.

Regardless, I had to have it.

I couldn’t hit the ‘buy’ key fast enough.

I was rather shocked at the sticker price… as much as a pair of Manolo Blahnik’s! But the fine fine print also promised that the Vitamix would make my calves look just as good as Mr. Blahnik’s sumptuous creations. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it said that, too.  You’ve got to believe me.

The super duper fine fine print also said that I must never ever ever never call the Vitamix a ‘blender’, even though it could blend anything. Anything. Even a car! It’s so big and powerful that it’s sometimes mistaken for the Large Hadron Collider, which happens to be the world’s most powerful superconducting magnet. (I’m getting one of those for Christmas. I hope!)

And so, the Vitamix was going to change my life.

Forever.

I was delirious with anticipation.

And for the next ‘seven to ten days’ all I did was wait.

It was torturous.

I hated not knowing whether it would be seven or eight or nine or ten days.

But finally, on day Eight-And-A-Half ( at 5:30 p.m., too late for dinner that night) my Vitamix arrived and it was delivered by four men in suits.

Hazmat suits.

I just love all the excitement that comes with being me!

But the excitement soon dissipated. There were too many boxes. That could only mean one thing.

Assembly required.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

I don’t do tools. That part must have been in the invisible fine print.

I stared at the boxes for two days.

Finally I put protective gloves on (to protect my glorious machine) and went to work.  But when I was finished I was horrified.

I had created a horrible, vicious beast!

It looked like a cross between a Monster Truck and Hannibal Lecter.

It is, without a doubt, the biggest, scariest, meanest kitchen appliance I have ever seen.

It even came with its own first aid kit, including a cardiac defibrillator and a prosthetic arm–in case it ate one of mine????????????????

Alas, I have yet to use my Vitamix. I’m now waiting for my Bose Quiet Comfort 3 Acoustic Noise Canceling Headphones (everyone has them!) to arrive so as to reduce the risk of any hearing loss when I turn on Big V.

I’m also thinking of dressing up as a Vitamix machine for Hallowe’en.  It’s either that or the Large Hadron Collider.

Thoughts?

My Son Is Visiting From College… Oh Happy Day!

Those words were music to my ears yesterday. Number Two was home.  My old (and long forgotten) speed running skills kicked in from my days as a super star athlete in third grade.

Yeah, I guess it was pretty obvious that I missed my beautiful boy. Apparently it was written all over my face.

I have been blessed with four beautiful children: three wonderfully delicious girls. And my lovely boy. My angel boy.  When he walked in the door, he took my breath away. Tall, handsome, smiling from ear to ear. A perfect young man. My incredibly special boy.

Please indulge me while I wax ad nauseum about how much I adore this tender-hearted young man.

Imagine all the stars and planets and the endless expanse of the universe, then multiply that by the biggest number you can think of, then take that number and multiply it by 156 billion light years, add a bunch of other big stuff plus infinity.

Well, that doesn’t even come close to how much I love my son.

And yet…

some things ….

Then again, he knows exactly how to make up for it.

What a line! Who falls for that sh … tuff? 

Don’t they all know?  He had me at I’m home.

ME + MEDITATION = &%#@!!

I am learning to meditate.

Actually, I am attempting to try to learn how to meditate. Law school was a piece of cake by comparison.  

What I have come to realize is that my mind has a mind of its own. No matter what I tell it to do, it marches to a different tune.

I find myself listening to whatever my mind wants to listen to. It’s like a radio station that plays the same songs over and over. An incessant medley of songs like: Haven’t You Got That Done Yet?; Did You Just Eat The Whole Thing? and; Oh My Gawd, You’re Late Again!”

Isn’t meditation supposed to quiet the mind? Bring the body back to center? Create a space of stillness between The Person I Really Am and radio station KNUTS FM?  

Nona Jordan, my virtual yogini, tells me it all begins with the breath. She makes it sounds so simple. You breathe in, hold, breathe out, relax. 

Author Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk whose mission is to generate peace and happiness all over the world, says to breathe in as I calm my body then breathe out and smile. I find this hard to do when my teeth are clenched and my shoulders are up against my ears.  But I persevere, because I am committed to getting centered. I breathe deeply. I feel the calmness wash over me. It feels so good to relax.

And then…

“Did you remember to sign Number Four’s field trip permission slip, you crazy lady?” 

As a matter of fact, I did not. But I’m going to ignore that thought for a moment because this is my time to breathe, if you don’t mind, Mind! I’m just doing a little breathing. Is that too much to ask? I am relaxing. Leave me alone.  

“You’d better go now and drop it off at the school or you’ll let Number Four down and the teachers will laugh and curse you.”  Ohhhhh, can’t have that. End of meditation session. That lasted all of 47 seconds.  

I have found that the harder I try, the harder it is to meditate. It is the opposite of the Tao de Ching’s instruction to “do without doing”. Even when I’m not doing anything it seems I’m doing something. I need a mute button.

 

And then, just the other day, it happened. I saw a flashing light. Actually, it was the little orange light in my car telling me I was about to run out of gas.  So, I just went with the flow, stopping at the gas station, something I normally hate to do. I was feeling rather peaceful. I began to put gas in the car, expecting my mind to wander. Only this time I decided to just ‘watch’ my mind do its usual tricks. Go ahead, I said, knock yourself out, think whatever you want, say whatever you want, I don’t care, I am putting gas in my car. YOU STINK!

And then I didn’t hear anything. Nothing. I thought maybe I had stopped breathing, but no, there it was, my breath going in and then out.

Easy. I did it– without doing anything. 

Without resistance, I finally learned how to fill my tank.

That Was Kinda-Sorta Easy

 

Ten Things I Love About…Me!

How do I love me? Let me count the ways…

First of all, I am ridiculously smart.

Ridiculously!

2.  I have very pretty feet.

3.  And some smokin’ hot curves.

4.  I can say “NO” in all of the world’s languages. When one doesn’t work, I use another.

 

5.  I am easy to please. I only need two things*.

6.  Wildlife creatures LOVE me. I love that about me!

7.  I have a nice smile.

8.  And I love to laugh. Just saying that makes me laugh. Hahahahahahaha…

9.  I once went in a contest to see who could do the plank pose the longest. I lasted 5 whole minutes. I didn’t win, but I was so proud of myself.

10.  And finally, I really love that I love to read.

Oh, and one more thing, while we’re on the topic of ME: I love to quote other people but pretend it was my original thought. Here is my original thought for the day:

If you can’t love The Worst about me, then you don’t deserve The Best of me.**

Alright, enough about me.

What about you? What do you love about me?

( hahahahahaha… still laughing at number 8 )

* Only a slight exaggeration.

**Fine! It’s Norma Jean’s brilliant quote.

The Cure for a Mommy Hangover

I’m suffering from a Mommy Hangover. And it’s not pretty. To wit:

I know I’ve got a Mommy Hangover when I want to do any one of the following;

• Scream into a pillow

• Go for a run—even if my knees hurt—and keep on running

• Howl at the moon—or Orion’s Belt or, when it’s a really bad MH,  I’ll want to start howling at Vulpecula, a rather obscure constellation created by Hevelius

• Curl into the fetal position while singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” –and I happen to be afraid of rainbows!

Mommy Hangovers occur when motherhood starts to feel more like smotherhood.

It’s not a ‘hood any parent ought to be in, and it’s a good idea to have a road map of how to get out of there pretty darn fast.  It also helps if you stay away altogether. But that’s easier said than done.

Moms are people too.

Still, you’d think I’d know better.  (Actually, I think I should know better, which makes it all the worse, so I try not to feed that thought). At times, even when all the signs are there, I plough right on into the ‘hood.

Here are the signs to look for:

• Elevated basal body temperature

• An increased sensitivity to odors

• Abdominal bloating

• Increased heart-rate

• Excessive lip gloss application (my default feel-good action)

• Popping peanut butter cups with a coke chaser every 30 minutes

• Panting

Since many of these symptoms are the same for pregnancy you may be able to understand why I might get a little confused.

Luckily, there’s a test for that.

Yes, there is a cure for the Mommy Hangover.

Simply follow this 12 step program:

1. Go to a mirror and take a good hard look yourself. The person staring back at you is not you.

2. Immediately start to breathe, deeply, all the way in and all the way out, until there’s nothing left. Hold the out-breath for a count of three, breathe in, deeply. This is called deep breathing.

3. Repeat step 2

4. Repeat step 3

5. Repeat step 4

6. Repeat step 5

7. Repeat step 6

8. Repeat step 7

9. Repeat step 8

10. Go to your child(ren)

11. Look deeply into their eyes

12.  Apologize

Simple. That’s it. Really. Anything else is pointless and futile as well as pointless. And futile.

Except… (okay, there is one more thing). Forgive yourself. It will probably happen again and next time, you’ll be prepared to get out of the (smother)’hood real fast.

Remember the 80/20 rule?