Indulgence is Exhausting

I really, truly mean that. For the past 18 months, I’ve been working hard on making myself happy. It’s a revolutionary concept that involves a lot (a TON) of introspection and self-evaluation and self-care. When I say “self-care” I’m not actually talking about the nice, posh, easy (ahem -expensive) stuff like pedicures and chocolate eating. I’m talking about the un-fun stuff… I’m talking about making sure your spiritual, physical, and emotional needs are met every day. It’s hard work! Sometimes I think it’s TOO hard and I don’t do it and then I find myself at the end of the day completely overwhelmed.

I just can’t handle LIFE! (Can you see the back of my hand pressed to my forehead? I’m about to faint, really.)

But when I wake up, pray, read something to feed my soul (scriptures, conference talks…) and then I eat a healthy breakfast (no Fruit Loops involved, sadly). I take time to WRITE something every day (usually it’s blogging), and I try to end the day with an evening walk. The walk generally doesn’t happen, and I’m learning that the road to flab is paved with good intentions.

Anyway, all I’m trying to say is that I think I’ve spent almost my entire marriage waiting for my husband to make my birthdays awesome. And guess what? He rocked it for a good 2 years. I think we were happy letting each other make each other happy (follow?) because we’re both so smitten with each other that it’s down right FUN to spoil each other.

But then.

Kid.

Job.

Kid.

Shift work.

Hormones.

And at the end of that story is a weepy wife, wondering why her husband doesn’t CARE anymore. Sorry. Not that the end. At the MIDDLE, because right after the wife mopped up her tears, she cranked some Loretta Lynn, put on her big girl pants, got a new hairhairstyle and BLAM-O! Made HERSELF happy. 

{happiness start with you!}

The whole thing makes me want to burn a bra, or something.
Anyway, last year on this day, I had just finished up mopping up my mess of tears and was trying -REALLY trying -to make sure I was happy on my birthday no. matter. what. But the kids weren’t concerned about whether mom was happy or not, really. Because if they were, they wouldn’t have fought. constantly.
By the time my husband came home and was ready to take me out, I was forcing a smile and saying as brightly as I could, “Let’s just not talk about today, let’s just have fun…” The problem is, if I don’t TALK… I essplode.
And I did.
I burst into tears on the way to the Redbox and my husband turned around to go home (per my orders) and then turned BACK around (things can get pretty hairy when you’re on a highway doing all this) and insisted that WE WOULD HAVE FUN. And we did.
He made me happy. Well, as much as I appreciate that this year is going to be different.
Yesterday I went a little crazy. I was taking my morning bath (showers are for weenies) and I got a sudden urge to completely revamp my bedroom. Now.
Imagine a small, cottage-like community…

RIGHT after it’s hit by a raging tsunami.
THAT’S what my bedroom looked like. And if you think I’m kidding, ask my Dad about the one time I spent a year as a senior in high school and nearly forgot the color of my bedroom carpet (just kidding, who could forget that awesome orange shag?).
I had already made a goal that I would spent August 15th cleaning my house so that August 16th could be spent without a heavy feeling of failure lurking all around. I wanted to rest. Enjoy. Inhale.
Naturally, I had decided I’d just… stay away from my bedroom. But there I sat in my terribly small tub, fairly ITCHING to put on a hazmat suit and dive in. And so. I did!
Guess how long it took… just GUESS. (No fair asking my Dad, either… his answer will probably be the closest.)

SIX BLOODY HOURS.
And I don’t know about you, but I don’t clean up after my husband. I guess maybe I SHOULD, but I hold firm to the belief that it would upset the delicate wife/husband balance in our relationship and turn it into more of a nagging mommy/irritated teenage son. When it came to cleaning up his stuff, I got a bag.
And (you guessed it) FILLED it, deposited it next to his night stand and wiped the sweat from my brow.
Whew.
But you really have NO IDEA what I went through to clean my room. And once I started, it was a huge tornado effect. I took pictures off the walls. I filled a 50 gallon trash bag to the brim. I hung a huge mirror… all by myself. And then I went outside and started grabbing wood. Then I started sawing, sanding, painting, drilling…
On a side note: if you spend an entire day cleaning and your husband comes home and sees how much you did while pregnant, he won’t be super mad that you broke a dill bit off in a piece of wood. Instead, he’ll gently take the drill away, point out that there’s such a thing as torque, and ask nicely if he might finish the project for you. And you’ll let him… AFTER you point out where the broken bit is and he says, “Oh that’s never coming outta that wood…”
After I finished the room at 5 pm, I did the dishes. Then dinner. Then I tackled the laundry on the couch (no small feat, I assure you). And then my son choked on a fake oreo and puked in the middle of the living room floor.
And at the end of the day, when I poured into my big bed… my husband rubbed my messed up lower back. It was all worth it.
TODAY.
TODAY I have a clean room.
TODAY I went shopping and bought stuff to make fish tacos for dinner. I even bought Jones soda, for crying out loud. TODAY I’m going to bake the fattest, thickest, richest chocolate cake this planet has evah seen, and then I’m going to give myself a pedicure (while I still can). I even SET UP AN APPOINTMENT TO GET MY HAIRS CUT. I couldn’t care less if my husband forgets all about my birthday! I’ve successfully MADE myself happy! Shouldn’t someone be playing the theme from Chariots of Fire, or something? My room isn’t exactly the kind of place and space that magazines drool over. But I’m going to share some pictures with you any way. I should have taken before pictures. Ahhhh, it’s like a half-finished painting. There’s more work that needs to be done for sure. I’m going to make some more of those hanging Mason jars, fill the bottoms with salt and add a tea light. I have a similar one in my bathroom, and it is lovely. Three cheers for my headboard, by the way. My Dad made it when he was in High School. Isn’t that awesome?! I didn’t even have to fight my siblings for it (probably because they don’t know I have it, mmmwahaha). I didn’t spent a lick of cash yesterday redoing everything. Everything I needed I found in my back yard and around my house. See the chalk board I made? I found that piece of wood by the side of my house, just sitting there. It used to be part of something. Of what? I don’t know. If whatever it was ever wants it back, they can have it. But I’ve upped it’s value significantly. The Willow Tree figurine was given to me from my husband. It was a Mother’s Day gift. I had JUST miscarried, and he handed it to me and said, “This is us before the miscarriage. This is us now. This is us forever.” Oh my heck, I’m making myself cry. Moving on.. I found an old fishbowl (because doesn’t everyone just have a fishbowl lying around?) and an old candle stick from Goodwill. I married them together to bring us: I put our date ideas in it. Spiffy. Our closet is pretty big. Buying curtains for it would have cost a fortune, but it didn’t have doors or anything and it needed SOMETHING. For Christmas, I bought myself a rod, some curtain rod clip thingies, and a huge canvas drop cloth (set me back a whole $20. I can live with that). I came home, measured and sewed. Then I wrote one of my favorite poems on my side of the canvas curtain cover. I’m still debating on what to put on my husband’s side… it’s a serious commitment, people. For someone who obsesses over words as much as I do -it is not to be taken lightly. Here’s a not-so-great shot of a hanging Mason Jar. The wood piece it’s hanging from is from my old piano. It just needs some salt and a little candle! I can’t wait to make a bunch more of those little guys and hang them all over the wall! I would have made more yesterday had the handle of the hack saw not been sun-rotted. Remind me to put “hack saw” on my shopping list… right next to “drill bits.” I made something similar to those last year and put dried flowers in it. The flowers were a gift from my husband after our daughter was born. He snagged them in the hospital gift shop. And I can’t talk about my bathroom without bringing this little lady out to play. Best vintage post card EVER: And finally… here is the project that has a drill bit buried in it. After I bought a canvas drop cloth with my Christmas money, I bought myself some awesome knobs. Because I loved them so much, I didn’t want to use them for just ANYTHING (again, commitment issues), so I kept them with my crafty things until yesterday. When I craft, it tends to be spontaneous and completely reckless. I grabbed a piece of my old piano (how would I ever decorate if I hadn’t thought to chop that thing up? I shudder to think) and then after many failed attempts to put put the knobs on them, I set them aside and let my husband do it. Once we get some printer ink (which HAS TO BE SOON or I’m going to essplode again), I’m going to print off one of our wedding pictures, one of my parents’ wedding pictures and one of my husband’s parents’ wedding pictures… mod podge them to a piece of painted wood, attach a ribbon to the back and hang them on the knobs! And one last shout out to Dad’s head board. And yes, that is my 9-foot pillow thankyouverymuch.


Yesterday about killed me, but it was worth it. There’s nothing a mother wants more on her birthday than to feel good about herself. I worked hard yesterday so I could feel good about myself.

Like a pirate!

I’m off to bake a cake. Later on I’ll be at the Book Fair, which still gets me as giddy now as it did when I was in grade school.
I may or may not have stolen $20 from the food budget to spend on books… but hey.
It’s my birthday ;)

Comments

  1. My mom struggled for awhile not getting what she wanted from my dad on her birthday. So for the past few years she has made bread and delivered it to random people, without telling them what it was for, and in the process has made herself happy on her birthday. Yes, she is a friggin’ angel.

    Happy birthday!!! :)

  2. oh man i wish my husband picked up after himself!!!! in our house, if i don”t do it, it doesn’t get done! Don’t get me wrong, i ask for help everyday, but i DO turn into the nagging wife. I’m not the cleanest person either, but if it was up to him…oh boy…there is a difference between messy and filthy. i love him, he has many good qualities, but cleaning up after himself is just not one of them.
    ALSO!!!!!!!! – my birthday was a week ago…he had the day off…he watched me do the dishes…while he played on the computer…he watched me pull weeds…while he sat inside the A/C house…oh girl dont get me started. for my 25th birthday he bought me some nighties! i was like “honey, it’s my birthday, not yours!” lol!!! I think after that birthday, he just lets me take care of myself and not deal with the wrath. oh well, they are lucky we love them!
    I may have to start being like Candaces mom!!!
    Happy Birthday my friend! Make it a good one!

  3. Kourtney Rivera says:

    HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

    I love reading your amazing blog….it’s just so much fun.

  4. Yep, that is the world’s greatest postcard. And your bedroom looks like an attack of awesome hit it.

    ALSO. Don’t know if there’s any consolation in this for you, but The Boy has had croup for the past three days and there’s been at least one dramatic vomiting episode every day. This morning, it was white grape peach juice. And it was on me.

    So, enjoy some birthday cheer on me. No charge.

  5. I’ve been getting crazy itches to get things cleaned up and such, too… hooray for babies. ;) (I love how your room looks)

    Happy Birthday! I hope it was a lovely day. :)

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