I’ve been so enjoying the girls lately. Recently they were in a REALLY difficult sibling stage, full of whining, constant crying, wrestling and generally doing their best to abuse each other AND me. I felt terrible and drained and overwhelmed and helpless and every other word you can think of to describe the total powerlessness that parenthood sometimes serves up.

And then it stopped.

Just… stopped. Cuteness reigns supreme. Talk of the baby is everywhere. Anna is determined to get up in the night and rock the baby back to sleep “if” it wakes up and cries. Silvia tells everyone that her little sister (because no way will she consider we might have a boy) will be here soon and Mama will feed her mommy milk from my “nibbles” (by the way, I’ve tried to get her to STOP telling people this, but since it makes Kurt laugh and snort his coffee, she won’t). All the stuffed animals go through speedy pregnancies every day, complaining about their backs and needing naps.

On top of that, Silvia cannot stop talking. I remember this stage with Anna, where everything was a running monologue ALL DAY LONG. Not that she’s stopped, mind you, but the flow of words has slowed down some and she even sits quietly for long moments, reading her books.

Now it’s Silvia’s turn and, boy oh boy, has she embraced the moment! All through every meal, all day playing, on the potty, during stories– every minute seems filled with her observations. She’s delighting in rhymes right now, making up silly words to go with whatever she’s saying.

“Can I have that book-dook, Anna?”

“It’s time to take a bath-dath-math!!”

All these things, of course, send her into hysterical giggles at which point Anna also collapses. Because, you know, there’s nothing more contagious than giggles. And I tell ya, having the house filled with screaming laughter most of the day is WAY better than shaking down with screaming tantrums.

Last night we were watching a thing on the History Channel about how the earth was formed. They like all the space pictures and get all gasp-y and excited at the shots of a volcano-covered planet. During one of those scenes, Silvia started talking rapidly about olives. Olives?

“And the volcanoes are full of olives and they come out and are hot all over the world and make the planet! Look at all that olives!!”

Anna got up and went to the TV, really scanning the screen for olives, totally confused. Then I figured it out.

“Lava? Do you mean lava, honey?” I asked. She nodded vigorously.

“Yeah. Olives!!”

A simple roadmap of my journey through new client acquisition:

First stop – Information Superhighway. Surf respectable company sites. Find some I like. Research.

Next stop – Outreach Avenue. Send emails to top contact at identified companies. Arrange informational interview. Chat, love, praise, support…all good things.

Merge onto Meeting Boulevard. Fly to Chicago for meeting with business development director for top identified company. Giddy, excited, nervous, empowered.

Arrive at…dead end. ?!???

This was at once, the most exciting and frustrating experience. Yes, I got to visit Chicago and catch up with some old friends and enjoy some good meals. That was great and if I could make a business of gallivanting around the nation visiting friends and eating myself silly-SIGN ME UP. However, I went to Chicago because a company was interested in working with me on a partnership. The BDD, let’s call him Jack, indicated that they are planning to expand their business to Detroit (my neck of the nation) and are looking for someone to oversee this expansion. Their company is one that I patronize, I think their model is brilliant and I think I’d be a perfect ambassador for their organization-so I agreed to a meeting at his office.

I packed up the kids and the husband, jumped on a flight and landed in the Windy City three weeks after our initial conversation. Upon arriving at our hotel (strategically close to the business), I promptly contacted Jack to confirm our appointment. “Oh, Trish. I’m so glad you called. My BIG boss came to town and we’re meeting right now to discuss our move to Michigan. This shouldn’t take more than a few hours. Can we meet later?” “Sure! It will give us something more to talk about. Just call me when you’re done and we’ll meet.” A few hours go by with no contact from Jack. I send him a text, not wanting to interrupt the inevitable brain flurry of activity. No response. I figured the meeting must be going so well that he simply lost track of time and would reach out in the morning. He knows I’m in town for the weekend, so perhaps he could see me Saturday or Sunday before my departure.

Saturday morning phone call from Jack: “Trish. Hi. I’m sooooOOOooooo sorry about last night. The boss was in town, and we had this big company outing at a bar, so I couldn’t get back to you. Are you free today?” “Of course I’m free. Just let me know when and where and I’ll be there.” Jack: “Great! I’ll call you after my breakfast meeting and we’ll get together.” (Jeopardy theme song plays repeatedly over the next eight hours. No call from Jack).

On Sunday evening, after I was long home and thoroughly confused and bummed and convinced that I was making a terrible decision to work for myself, I received an email from Jack. “Trish, let’s connect the next time you’re in Chicago. Hope you had a nice time with your friends while you were here. We are still planning to expand to Detroit, but not until November or so. I’ll be in touch.” My mental response: “Dear Jack, by November I will have moved onto bigger and better things and won’t have given you or your crummy business a second thought. In the meantime, I will be patronizing your competition who has already made the move to my area and working on locking down a real contact. Love, Trish.”

I love vegetable gardens.   I am not an expert but with a little bit of research and creativity, I continually craft different types of gardening spaces in my yard, each one unique.  Aesthetically it adds so much to the landscape. For the last few years I have had my garden on the side of my front yard and it became the neighborhood destination.  If I ever didn’t have my scarecrow up, the neighbors would complain.  An older man once came up to me when I was out working in the garden and told me he liked to come by each year and see how she (yes my scarecrow is a woman) was dressed.  So if you think that you don’t have the space for a garden, don’t be afraid of the front yard if there is a way to make it quaint and beautiful.  I like to use all the spaces on my property.  Even an unused side yard with good sun can be transformed into a little farm. 

Scarecrow in my front yard garden

After years of gardening and trying different things, there are a few useful tips that have always proven to work.  Keeping it tidy and uniformed is a must – DO NOT let it get tady and full of weeds.  I like to make my garden useful but also kind of artistic.  Using trellises and teepees get things growing up which adds an artistic flair.  And last, I like to over plant, so it is lush and full.

A great resource I have found is www.growveg.com.  They offer a 30 day free trial of their Garden Planning Tool.  It’s so easy – from creating a plan to how much to buy and even reminder emails (just in case you forget to tend to your garden), it’s all included.  It’s really great.

Whatever the landscape of your yard, you can find ways to work with it. The front yard garden had a bit of a slope, so I could not do raised beds. Instead I dug trenches and mounds of dirt for the vegetables.  The idea is to get 18” of loose soil for the roots to spread.  This trenching took me a while, but it was worth it – it really took off.  Growing the veggies up on teepees is very helpful as it gives you more space (and looks beautiful).  I did several different veggies this way, but I loved the sugar baby pumpkins.  They really become works of art.   It helps keeping all the foliage off the ground to avoid pests and diseases too.

Baby pumpkins "before"

Baby pumpkins "after"

This year I am trying a new space in a sunny side yard.  It is flat so I (along with my gardener) built two raised beds from 16 landscape ties.  We cut them down a little so the beds are 8’x6’.   You need to be able to reach the middle without ever stepping on (and compacting) the soil.  This size is a bit of a stretch, but I always like to push things a little.  We used L brackets that I got from the hardware store and attached them together leaving about 18″ between the two.  We brought the sprinklers up into the boxes, filled them with ½ compost and ½ potting soil and now we are ready to rock.  There is a book I think I might have mentioned before called The Vegetable Gardener’s Bible by Edward C. Smith…it is also a really helpful reference.

My new garden space

Brackets and landscape ties

Ready to plant

I think I will put pea gravel around the beds and in the pathway and maybe under a big picnic table for summer dinning.  I am also planning to put a peaceful place to sit on the path to enjoy all the sites of the developing vegetables. I can’t wait to see how it all unfolds and develops and will be sure to share more pictures as it does.

So give it a try. If you are new to it and unsure, start small and experiment. You will learn what does and does not work along the way. It is so exciting to watch the crops grow and then be able to feed your family with them.

Someone died. Someone I knew very casually, many years ago. But it is another death.

This has happened with ever-increasing frequency. It started randomly……a kid in grade school who lost his brothers in a train crash. A kid who’s dad had cancer. A friend who lost a child. Illness, accident, overdose, suicide. On and On and On. The list of the lost is getting longer, the deaths seem to be more abrupt. No time to say goodbye. Just a post on Facebook with funeral details, a link to an article, or an email, or a voicemail, or just stumbling upon the obituary and realizing that the name, the face in that photograph, is one you know. One you knew. All of these losses seem so……senseless. So tragic and terrible and heartbreaking and UNFAIR. So unfair.

For the most part, so far, it has been my friends’ parents. I couldn’t understand it, when it started happening. Couldn’t get my head around it. Parents, people my parents’ age, are dying. How could this be happening? And then, I did a little math and realized……I am almost the same age as my mother was, when her mother – my beloved grandmother – passed away.

And that freaked me out.

I just do not know how to deal with death, I guess. The permanence of it. The fear of it. I don’t want to live my life in fear of death. But I do, in retrospect. I don’t feel the fear all the time, I don’t carry it around with me, it does not color all of my decisions……but it rears it’s ugly dark head when someone loses a loved one.

And as I get older, and my friends and my parent’s friends and my friend’s parents get older, this is going to happen more often. The natural progression of things, I suppose. Doesn’t make it right. Does it make it easier? I can’t tell yet – but it doesn’t feel easier. It just feels scary. Like people are just……disappearing. Mortality is becoming a very real concept, and the ignorance (and bliss) of youth is slowly fading away. Every obituary is bringing me a day closer to my own last day. That reality just burns through the grief and shock of the news.

So, what to do. Live each day as if it was my last? A lovely concept, but simply not realistic. I have kids to raise, bills to pay. I can appreciate each day, of course, and make sure that I let people know how much they mean to me, how much I appreciate them – and I try to do that. I really do. But is it enough? Can anything really be enough?

I am at a loss. I cannot make sense of it, cannot find the words to comfort the bereaved, because really……what is going to make it better? What is going to make it OK? I am heartsick for the friends, neighbors, family, acquaintances who are struggling to come to terms with an abrupt end of a life that was an integral part of their own. I wish I had some clever insight, a way to lift the mood or leave you with an anecdote that would put a smile on your face. It hurts me to know that someone who is grieving might read these words, because there is no comfort here. I am scared of death. There. At least there is that. I said it. I am not ready to go. I am not ready to say goodbye. And if I have to go before I am ready, I can only hope that someone will be able to give my children some comfort – someone with a better handle on this then myself.

Whenever someone asks me if I breastfed my son, I’m tempted to paraphrase Rodney Dangerfield and say, “No, I’ve always liked him as a friend.”

This offhand question vexes me, as does the query about whether I’d had an epidural. I’ve found that some of the same women who would otherwise get on their soapboxes about how the government should keep the laws off their bodies, or hoarsely proclaim that what two people do in their bedroom is no one else’s business, have absolutely no qualms about bullying other mothers into accepting their view on these topics.

The second that bump becomes prominent, people begin to lay claim to your body. Granted, it’s often well-meant and innocuous: “Oh,” they’ll say, placing an errant hand on your stomach, “how far along are you?”

Then there’s the woman who should really know better, like the mother I encountered at the register about a week before I gave birth.

“It’s just about your due date, huh?” she said. “I can tell; I had my son a month ago.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s nice. Congratulations.”

“You’re so enormous!” she said. “Twins?”

Later, as I chatted pleasantly about the Yankees with a mother of two small children, the talk somehow turned to breastfeeding.

“I’ll give it a shot,” I said.

“Oh no,” she blurted, immediately leaning in and putting a hand on my shoulder. “You absolutely must breastfeed. Breastfed children are smarter, you know.”

“Um,”

“And they get more of the mother’s immunity. You wouldn’t want your child to miss out on that, would you?”

“Well, no, but –“

“You’ve got to. And make sure you tell your doctor that you want to breastfeed your baby the second he’s born. Don’t you dare let them take him from you. Tell them you want to hold him and feed him right away.”

“So….Derek Jeter’s all healed up. Looks like he’ll be in the next lineup!”

“He’s great. You know, I bet Derek Jeter was breastfed.”

Suffice it to say, she didn’t have an issue with telling me to forgo the drugs either. And this was something I never had an intention of trying. I don’t like pain. I ask the dentist for Novocain even if his drill isn’t going anywhere near my nerve. And I was obsessing enough about other things to add worrying about suffering to my list.

Sadly, there was a snafu the day I gave birth which caused the medicine in my epidural to run out, so I ended up feeling the pain anyway. Which I would not describe as pain so much as pressure, the isolated intensity of g-forces, akin to the unbearable sensations of an untimed rollercoaster ride. Why anyone would want to intentionally feel that is beyond me, but I’m not going to get in your face about it.

Of course, once the baby’s out, the needling turns to other things. Your kid’s eating too much sugar, or not enough organics, or SpongeBob is going to make his eyes fall out of his head. Maybe life really is just like high school, and it’s all about wearing the right dress all over again, only this time, your kid’s doomed if he goes to the wrong kindergarten, or too big for his age, or can’t moderate his all-consuming obsession with dinosaurs.

And now, like then, the same lessons apply: to thine own self be true, and don’t let the bastards get you down.

The past few weeks have been busy over here in the Colorado mountains. Not so much physically (unless you mean kids running in cabin-feverish circles through vastly too small spaces) as theoretically. We’ve been moving around a lot of what-if’s and how-to’s. The reality begins to set in–in a few short months, we’ll be a family of five and a few months after that our oldest will start kindergarten.

It’s time to get things in order. Problem is, when you sit back and start to shake out all your plans and realities into the fresh light of day, well… there’s a lot of dust. Complacency and denial come to light, like finally admitting that those size 4 jeans you’ve been squeezing into every day are REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. One of the hardest things about sorting through your closet, and your life, is admitting when it’s just time to let something go.

So we’re walking through our marriage, our goals and our family, the plans and dreams we waxed poetic about when it was all just hypothetical, back in the halcyon newlywed days. The fun part about a big change is the CHANGE. Of course, that’s the big ol’ scary part, too, but still… taking something old and making it new has a lot of appeal. The pile of mayhem in our living room goes from trivial to nearly impossible. One corner is a clutter of logistics to move the girls to share a room. Toppling over under the window is a massive stack of possibility around down-sizing our house, cars, life. Then there are the elephants of time-management, responsibility and prioritization sitting boldly in the middle of the room. We’re still walking delicately on their outskirts, waiting for the right time to pounce.

I tell you, though, it’s HARD to sneak up on an elephant. They know you’re there and those suckers are SOLID.

In all this flurry of action and consideration, it’s been easy to get bogged down in the little details. The stuff that you run across every day always seems to be the most important, which is, of course, the whole reason we get complacent in the first place. It’s stressful to have to push aside your day-to-day agenda in order to focus fully on the big picture, but we’re trying. Actually, that’s one of the reasons Kurt and I do so well together. It’s never been just one of us trying to do anything, figure something out alone. It’s always been “we”, even when it sucks.

And let’s be honest, moving those big pachyderms off of the living room carpet is not going to be easy. But with us both pushing together, I know we’ve got more than a fighting chance. And the clock is ticking, my friends, if for no other reason than that enclosed-zoo-area smell. Seriously. I have to live here, you know? Opening a window only goes so far.

by Beth Smith

Are you looking to launch a small business that utilizes your talents and passions to earn an income? Creative ideas for the startup entrepreneur that require little capitol and a lot of flexibility remains a hot topic for our moms. Here are some ideas I’ve come across that I thought worthy of sharing:

Maternity/kids’ consignment shop: I remember feeling frustrated paying for a maternity dress that I knew I would be wearing only once. Many moms feel the same way about buying formal clothes for their kids. This business could be operated out of your house, and because you’re taking the items on consignment, you don’t pay anything for your inventory until it’s sold. Ask your friends to help you get started. I bet they would be more than happy to clear out some closets!

Pet sitter/walker: Last weekend I wanted to go away overnight but had one problem. It was winter break and every kennel I called was completely booked. Oh what I would have paid someone to watch my Yorkie-Poo! My sister started this business and was able to quickly expand by hiring other moms looking to make extra money.

Monogrammed Bathrobes and towels: If you’ve ever been in charge of team jackets chances are you’ve visited your local embroidery shop. Consider contracting them and purchasing items like bathrobes and towels in bulk on a wholesale basis. In addition to people looking to buy these items as gifts, consider marketing to moms. Bathrobes are great for spa/sleepover parties and towels are a cool takeaway for a swim/beach bash!

Do you have an idea to share? Comment below.

List your business in our marketplace. It’s free!

BY JENNIFER RAWLINGS

When the gorgeous Kathryn Bigelow walked off the Academy Award stage after being the first woman EVER to win an Oscar for “Best Director” the orchestra played Helen Reddy’s “ I AM WOMAN”

The music struck me as ironic. “I Am WOMAN” was an anthem for women in the 1970”s – my mothers generation. The song was originally released in 1972; almost 40 years ago and 46 years since “The Women’s Liberation Movement” began.

How far have woman progressed in the last 40 years? Well the news is good and bad. There are more female business owners, more female politicians and women now outnumber men at universities across the United States.

Here is the bad news.(I have written some of this before, but it is worth repeating) In the United States a woman is raped every six minutes, and every FIFTEEN SECONDS a woman is battered. Around the globe 130 million women have been subjected to genital mutilation. Nearly a million women and young girls are trafficked into brothels each year or sold into sexual slavery and the numbers continue to rise. Only ONE percent of the worlds land owners are women. Two-thirds of the world’s illiterate are women and in many countries women are forbidden an education. Women make up seventy percent of the world’s poor. It’s estimated 500, 000 women die every year in childbirth that is approximately one death a minute. You are 1000 times more likely to die in chidbirth if you live in a poor country . In many parts of the world female children are less likely to receive medical care because they are simply not important enough to “save” and so those young girls die.

We need to keep raising our voices and continue to fight for sisters. Being born a woman should be celebrated not just at the Oscars but on every corner of this earth. We owe it to all woman and girls to never back down and to keep on roaring.

by Angie Mizzell

This week, I drove to Columbia– about two hours from home– to give a talk. The topic: Tips to help busy moms find confidence and happiness under the spit-up, laundry and mile-long to-do list.

After the talk, I drove home in silence. No radio, no cell phone chats to pass the time. I focused on the headlights illuminating the highway and the words I had spoken. I felt my own insecurities creep in and noted the irony: I gave a talk about confidence while struggling to connect with my own.

Lately, I’ve been counting all the ways I seem to screw it up as a mother. When it comes to loving my children, I get a big, shiny gold star. When it comes to merging their needs with my own, I feel like I’m living the rough draft. A beautiful story cluttered with typos, run-on sentences and incorrect punctuation.

I told this group of women that my mission was not to tell them how to run their lives, raise their children, or “fix” them in any way. I was there to support them… the woman behind the mom. I touched on concepts of balance and living in the moment– topics I often write about. I left with a final thought:

“Resist the urge to compare yourself to other moms. We don’t walk in each other’s shoes and we’re all doing the best we can. There are areas in life where we shine, and other areas where we fall short. Let’s draw inspiration from one another and remember to encourage each other, too.”

The next day, I was thrilled as the emails started pouring in. One mom in the audience wrote, “It’s always good to be reminded I’m doing a good job. The best thing is, it’s always a new day!”

To that, I raise my coffee mug and say, “Cheers.”

My goal had been to inspire them, and these moms, in turn, gave so much back to me. A simple reminder that I’m doing a good job, too.

So tonight is my closing night with Barbra’s wedding…what a run.  It was everything I wanted it to be and more.  The interesting thing about the theatre and I guess acting in general, is that you become a quick and close family with the people involved.  You spend a concentrated, intense time together, which in my case has always brought me closer to my compadres.  It’s strange because you are so close so briefly and then often don’t see the people again.  But tonight we will not say good-bye really, I have made sure of that.  We will gather at my house in a couple of weeks for a little gathering and reminisce on our successes, failures and in this case laughs, during the course of the run. 

The reason I really wanted to write one more blog about this experience was because of the evolution.  Even though we had rehearsed it for six weeks and now performing for four, we are still striving for something different, something more.  You have to be on your toes and you have to really listen to the other person. 

As I race around my day with all the projects I am always working on, I have been thinking about all this and how it relates to the rest of my life and yours too I bet. We can’t get complacent.  Even when we think we have something down perfectly…change it up.  Try a different approach to the same situation or problem. Strive for something better. It’s the only way to move forward in life.

I also thought it interesting that my mood would be affected so much when I arrived at the theatre.  Tired, distracted (by my life), headache, grumpy, what have you…I had to let all that go…you know “the show must go on” and all that.  I would always end the evening happy and satisfied that I had given it my all. We can push through our BS whatever it is, if we REALLY put our mind to it, around it, ect.  It’s those situations you push through that provide the greatest sense of accomplishment and growth. To really be successful at anything you are doing, you have to learn to do this.

I will put this little show behind me and start pounding the pavement for my next something.  In the meanwhile, I just planted those 18 Old English roses I spoke of previously and have started my next vegetable garden or “farm” as I affectionately call it. Tons more on that later.