Category: Blogolicious

I like to try to cram as much as possible in to every day. This has it’s upsides. It’s too early to really remember what those upsides are, but I know they’re out there.

It also has it’s downsides.

I hear it a lot around the office. “Just one more thing.” The call of my people as they try to do just a little more before they head home for the day. Trying to get a leg up on the next day.

The challenge is, there’s always more than one more thing. Parkinson’s Law of Triviality says that your work will always expand to fill the amount of time you have available. (Trying to sound smart there. Did it work? Bwah ha!)

My interpretation of this law is that time needs to be maximized in efficiency. (Ironic side note: I was NOT AT ALL efficient in spelling “efficiency.” Throw me a bone, Siri!) We all have 24 hours in a day, but how we spend them varies greatly.

I try to focus on doing the things that are my version of what I HAVE to do before taking on the things I WANT to do. I say “my version” because a)everyone’s version is different and b)a wise man once told me the only things we really HAVE to do are eat and shit (thanks Dad!).

I screw up a lot when trying to cram in too much. I’d like to say that I was never late to work because I felt the need to empty the dishwasher as a part of my busy morning. Or that I’ve never had Parking Structure Rage when waiting behind everyone else who also is trying to leave and restore their work/life balance. I’d like to say those things, but I’d be a liar.

With varying degrees of success, I try to give myself permission for these blunders. Please share your hacks with me if you’ve figured this out.

It’s great that there is more than one right way to parent. It’s also challenging, becuase there’s a lot of room for interpretation, and sadly no blood test that can be performed to let you know if you’ve done it right.

Sooooo,….I guess a mom/dad has got to look for other signs if they’re on target.

Sure, you could look for yelp reviews on your parenting, maybe spend your days comparing yourself to others “What is Billy’s GPA?” “Which mom brought the best bake sale goodies?” “Why does Susie’s mom look so well rested?!” “SERIOUSLY! Why!!!??”

If you know me, you know I’ve spent a lot of time being “that guy.” Completely true story: for 6 months I had a race with a neighbor about who could get our kids off to school first. She didn’t know about this race, which didn’t help my parenting self-esteem when I lost, but that didn’t stop me.

I’m continually trying to let go of those comparisons. Trying to find alternate ways to know if I’ve done my best at parenting. With the young men in my house, uncovering those indicators is kind of like an Easter Egg hunt. One of those really hard Easter Egg hunts where they have big cash in plastic eggs. Not coins, cash!

Here’s some of the signs I’ve dug deep for recently:

Danny laughed at my joke. It wasn’t even a little bit of a courtesy laugh

Dirty asked me if I wanted the last banana. He didn’t take it and then leave the peel out for me to trip on and break a hip, he ASKED me if he could have it.

Dirty picked up that banana peel after only a day of prompting.

Sure; it’s a short list, but I’ll take it. They are great humans. You hear that well-rested Susie!? Now, what’s the recipe for those cookies. I want to see if I can make them better.

Any love song can be a song to your barbell if you really want it to.

I was at the gym. CrossFit. Not the side gym. Or the other side gym. The box. Each of the places I spend time to try to be healthy has an important, unique role. 

For me, in addition to the functional fitness, I go to CrossFit to drop bars. Of course I only do it with the appropriate weights. And also of course, I’m very dramatic when I do. 

Drop it like it’s hot. Drop it like I’m a something-Dottir Non CrossFit readers…feel free to google Sara Sigmunsdottir, Annie Thorisdottir or Katrin Davidstottir. Only they lift real weight. I lift little weight, but still ghost bar that thing like it’s 300 lbs. There’s a very cool feeling that comes from taking something heavy, putting it in the air, and then giving it back to gravity. The sound alone will make me feel stronger. It’s all in my head, I know. But it doesn’t stop me.

The other day, doing some hang cleans, appreciating the sound of our work, and my darn bar kept dropping farther away from me. Coincidentally, whatever moving music had a line about “why do you leave?” Or something like that. It reminded me that many songs can be odes to your barbell.

“Baby, why don’t you just meet me in the middle”

“Ain’t no crying in the club”

“Who hurt you?”

“I like me better when I’m with you”

This relationship has some pitfalls. All do, and require work if they are to thrive. But as for now, me and my barbell are growing as a couple. So check it sad break up songs….you can not be about barbells. 

Today there was a conversation about that wonderfully unique time Of life when some kids decide to try to reinvent themselves between 8th grade and freshman year. I’m not sure entirely what drives it, but now that I’m through with it, it’s fascinating to watch. 

Teens, much like humans, want to know where their tribe is.

For me, I was bent on being “punk”; a far reaching goal for a middle class kid growing up on a ranch in Cottonwood. 

I remember my undercooked brain making very conscious decisions to try to be noticed as weird, but still feeling like I was going to get found out as being poser weird. (Hey, brains really are still developing at 14,..cut old me some slack). 

My world revolved around it. Choosing only to listen to music that hardly anyone has ever heard of, trying to wear as many rubber bracelets as possible, making sure my bangs hung in my face, intentional sullen looks, fuschia pink highlights, the whole nine ridiculous yards. 

Putting in my best efforts. Wondering if I passed.

Then it happened! I was at Carl’s Jr on Cypress, wearing my finest “I’m weird” regalia, right down to the red beret. The employees were having a judgy conversation. With disgust; one said to the other, “We’re getting more of these punkers.” She curled her lip and gestured…towards me!!!I’d made it!

In those days, I was pretty sure that no one else was struggling to find their niche. Turns out, lots of teens want to be different just like everybody else (bwah ha!). 

So, if you know the kids doing weird shit as teens to figure out who the heck they are; ride it out. They may be tomorrow’s quirky adults in the making!

3. That’s the entire number of prompts needed for me to try a blog. Well, technically, one prompt and two “yea”s. So, yea…I’m like the Rock of Gibraltar up in here when it comes to peer pressure.

I’ve never blogged before, but I’m usually not short on words. Some of those words are even clean.

If y’all are interested, I’ll happily share my unsolicited thoughts on a number of subjects. Preliminary entry ideas include gems such as “Arthritis and Hook Grip” or “Don’t Box Jump with Bifocals” or “Instant Pots and Crockpots: Not All Heroes Wear Capes”

If I’m hitting the mark in what I think of blogging, reading will result in maybe a little entertainment, maybe a little motivation, and a lot of permission to be your version of okay. If those fall short, maybe a watermark for how not to be. (i.e. “Whew! I’m feeling a little undone. Let’s check in on Adams and see if she’s off the tracks more than me” bwah ha!

Allright Bonnie! Get to following! 😏