6. Bedtime

Day 6: Bedtime
     Okay. It's been a long day. Day 6 is going to be short and sweet. I love my bed. I love the smell of the sheets and the blankets. I love that we have at least 8 pillows in bed at all times. I love that Roxy sleeps in bed with us. It's cozy. But sometimes...she's a bed hog. I love watching Seinfeld or The Office before I go to sleep every night. I love that my stuffed dog, "my dog," still sleeps in bed with me. He's been sleeping in bed with me since I was 2. Yeah, I'm 30, and I still sleep with a stuffed dog. So.
     I love every day I spend with my Addy girl. We always have awesome days together. Bedtime is just the icing on the cake.
    
    

5. "Drives" with Patty

Day 5: "Drives" with Patty

     There is an Otterstedt girls tradition. Drives. It is one of our favorite things to do. A drive is something we do when we are happy. Sad. Bored. Hungry. Fighting. Depressed. Stressed. Basically whenever we need to just get away. A drive used to consist of a full tank of gas, a fresh pack of Camels, and Ludacris. Now, our drives consist of whatever gas we have in the tank, some kind of snack, and mellow music. But the journey is always the same. We get in the car feeling depleted. And when we return...we are different. Better. Rejuvenated.

     There is something magical about driving down dark roads for hours with your best friend. And if on some dark night you find yourself with nothing to do, and feeling a bit empty...I suggest a drive with someone like Patty.

4. Rainy Sundays

Day 4: Rainy Sundays

     I love rainy days. Some people loathe them, and I'm not sure why. I would personally hate if it was sunny 24/7. I may be biased, because I absolutely despise the sun. Most summer days...I wish I could shoot the sun out of the sky with a machine gun. (I've said it before, and I'm saying it again.) It's the truth. I actually think that on hot summer days. On more than one occasion...I have been so miserable in the heat of the sun that it actually reduces me to tears.

     But the rain...I love the rain. It gives me an excuse to stay inside my cozy home all day long. We watch movies. We eat soup. We cuddle under blankets. We paint pictures. And read books. Today, Addy did some water color paintings of a skunk, and some ducks. It's a good excuse to let the dishes wait. And to hold off on the cleaning. And to just...relax. And relish in the fact that we have a warm, cozy home to cuddle in.

     I love the rain. But rain on a Sunday? That's the whole package.

3. Ice Cream

Day 3: Ice Cream

     Ice cream. Need I say more?

     It doesn't matter how bad of a day I've had. It doesn't matter how full I may be already. It doesn't even matter if I'm on a diet. I don't even feel guilty about eating it. Ice cream makes everything feel just a bit better. I have always been an ice cream girl. I have always loved it.

     "Moi ein, pees?" First thing I said after my Dad had to literally force feed me my first taste of ice cream. He said I had clenched my teeth closed, and was shaking my head back and forth saying no. Repeatedly. He said he had to grab my face, and literally force me to try it. And of course...the rest is history.

     I have a motto: "There's always room for ice cream." Everyone should try to live by this. I do.  

 

2. Matt

     Day 2 of 100: Matt

     Matt. My husband. My love. The only man I've ever loved. Ours is a great love story. And like every great love story...it hasn't been perfect. There have been bad days. Bad months. Even bad years. But, through it all...he has loved me. Unconditionally.

     Some people may search a lifetime to find the love of their life. Some may never find it. How incredibly blessed I am. I found the love of my life when I was still a child. We fell in love in high school. And even before we fell in love...there were instances of "something" I cannot explain. It was mainly just a feeling I got whenever I was around him.

      We had classes together in middle school. In our History class, Matt would make fun of me constantly. He would call me a Nazi, and march around me saying, "Heil Hitler!" I would do my best to ignore his taunts, but I must confess...I went home and cried about it on more than one occasion. My parents assured me that he probably just liked me, and didn't know how to tell me. Of course, I refused to believe them. Matt said he was calling me a Nazi because I had blond hair and blue eyes. So, I must be an Aryan. And a Nazi. He saw that it made me crazy with anger and frustration. So he continued to tease me. When we started dating, my parents asked him about it one day at dinner. He admitted that yes, he liked me. And he didn't know how to tell me.

     We had another History class together in high school. He sat in back of me. He would stretch his legs out around my desk so that when I looked down, I could see his feet. He was usually wearing sneakers or a raggedy pair of Adidas sandals. I loved seeing his feet there around my desk. As I said, I can't explain it. It was just this feeling I got. Cozy. Safe. Like I was home. The only explanation I have for the feeling is that we are soul-mates. And being near him even before we fell in love made me feel...whole.

     We ran track together. There was one track meet in particular where we came back home changed and different. It was at Virginia Tech. An away meet. I was there to high jump, and he was there to do some distance run. We spent the entire day together cuddled in my sleeping bag under the bleachers. Playing hang-man. Flirting. Talking. Brushing my hand against his made my stomach jump. I saved one of the games of hang-man we played together. I had to guess the words, "I know somebody who likes you." Of course...it was him.We came home different people. We came home in love. And that love has never ceased. 

     Matt is the most incredible man I know. And he's mine. He's my husband. My love. The Father of my children. I get to kiss his lips for the rest of my life. I can hold his hand whenever I want to. He amazes me. His love for me, and for our little family is so real. And so big. He works so hard for us. I am literally living my dream life because of him. We have an amazing home. Two beautiful daughters. I get to be a stay at home Mama to my Adelyn because he works so hard. And everything he makes, he spends on us. On his girls. He is a dream come true.

     I'm going to end this with Matt's words. Words that he has written to me. Because they are too beautiful not to share:

"My love, my life, my wife,
You are my best friend, my soul-mate,
You are my everything.
My life is nothing without you.
Without you my lungs have no air,
My voice has no soul,
My heart has no reason for beating.
You are the reason I'm alive.
I love you with all my heart."

100. 1.

     It started out as 30. Then 60. Then 90. And then I thought...go for it. If I can do 90, I can do 100. 100 posts. 100 things that make me smile. 100 things that I am thankful for. 100 things that I don't deserve, but yet, have been given to me anyways.

     It has been a roller coaster the past few months (more info to come), and I haven't been able to focus on writing like I have wanted to. My Dad suggested that I write through it. He said that I'm an amazing writer (he biased, of course), and that I should write as a way of working through things. I haven't taken his advice until today. But he was right to suggest that I write. Because I already feel like I can breathe a bit deeper. The air feels a bit crisper. There are so many things I want to say that I fear my fingers won't be able to type fast enough.

     There may be days where my post of thankfulness/happiness/joy/gifts/blessings in my life is not as detailed as I would like it to be. My plan is to write during my daughter's nap time. But, as she proved yesterday...I make plans, but sometimes her plans are different than mine. She wanted me to "hold you," (translation: hold her) for about an hour. I realized she needed time with me more than a nap at that point. She fell asleep at dinner instead.

     I am aiming to replace all the negative obsessive-compulsive thoughts with my 100 posts. I want to dwell on whatever is good. Whatever is pure. Whatever is lovely. I want to teach my brain a lesson. I have been given so much in this life. I have everything I have ever wanted. And yet...I still find reasons to fear.

     I am so excited about this journey. Seriously...never thought I'd say this, but...I'm gonna kick my brain's ass. Fact. So...in no order of importance, I give you: 100 posts.

Number 1: Eyesight

     I want these 100 posts to be mostly positive. Without going into too much detail...I thought for a while I was going blind. About a month or so. It was scary. And exhausting. A dark spot in the past few months. Honestly, I know my sister was instrumental in bringing me out of my panic. She helped me laugh. She talked me through it. She listened. Countless times a day. I'm sure it was exhausting for her as well. 

     Now that I'm through it, I got to thinking about what I see. What I am blessed to see:

Adelyn. My beautiful, amazing, sweet, Adelyn. Her smile could melt ice. The blue of her eyes. Her beautiful blond hair that reminds me of butter. The way her fingers look holding my hand. Her toes. The way she looks when she is sleeping. The mess she makes eating a meal. The look on her face when she calls my name, "Mama!" Her toys all over the house. The way our home has transformed. There isn't one room that doesn't have a bit of Adelyn in it. Her fingerprint on it. The way my husband looks at our daughter. The way he plays with her. Kisses her. The way he looks at me. The way his lips look when they are going in to kiss mine. The shape of his hands. The arch of his feet. The way he smiles at me. Casey's birthmark. The color of his eyes...like beautiful marbles. His toes. The way he gives a fish kiss. The way he holds Addy's hand. The way he runs. The way he looked as newborn. The way he eats. Especially cake, or chocolate, or something sweet.

My sister's beauty. My mother's beauty. Her nails, and her hands. My Dad's hands. His fingernails. His four freckles under his one eye. Shane. His hair. The way he looked in his wrestling uniform. The first time I saw him. The way he looked on our couch sitting on Patty's baby blanket, when he was a baby. With the blue balloons all around him. The rocking horse he had in his room. They way he would climb into his changing table. My sister on her prom night. Wedding pictures of my parents. Pictures of A.J. as a kid. Seeing A.J. kiss Adelyn. Seeing him hold Casey. Watching him rock Casey when he's crying. My Mom's feet. She has beautiful feet. They make a perfect impression in sand at the beach. Pictures of my Dad with long hair. Watching my Dad cook. Steph's curly hair. The way she looks when she's driving. Seeing Mario for the first time. His long hair. Watching Matt walk Steph down the aisle at her wedding. Watching Sue dance. The way she walks on the beach. The way Bill walked. His hair. The way he looked on our canoe trip. The way Jen dances with her hands. She points a finger. The way she looked leaping across the beach in South Carolina.

The beach. Sunsets. Sunrises. Trees. Especially my favorite trees. Our old cherry tree on China Grove. The pink of the blossoms were so beautiful. The tree by the graveyard. Our cherry tree here on Rogue Forest. The way the water looks at the pool during break. And when there is 50 kids in the water. Butterflies. Hawks. River's feet. Roxy. The way her fur is turning gray under her mouth. Greenie, and the way he wiggles. Goose's head. Duke's eyes. He looks like a friendly lion. Dixie. Watching her give birth to 10 puppies. Watching her lick them after they came out. Skipper. The beauty mark on the end of his nose. Walking into my room and seeing the books he had just chewed up. The way he dug the sand at the beach. The blue of the sky. The way it looks after a storm. Rainy days. Fall leaves. 

Thankful I was able to see all these things. Thankful that I will see many more amazing things in my lifetime.

    

     

     

     

Shut up, Noise.

     It is difficult to hear or think or even see straight when all you hear in the background is noise. Never ending noise. It drives me crazy. It makes me mad. It makes me want to scream at it to just, "shut the hell up," and "go away," but it rarely listens. It is always there. On sunny days. On rainy days. At home. At the grocery store. In the car. When I'm with my daughter. When I'm away from her. In the morning. At night. Night is when the noise is the loudest. I lie awake in bed sometimes very late into the night. Sometimes until 3 and even 4 in the morning. I turn the t.v. on and off. On and off. I look at my phone. I read. I pray. I get water. Reposition my pillow. But that noise is always there. It is thoroughly exhausting. It makes me tired just thinking about it. It has been there forever. My first recollection of the noise is related to thunderstorms in general. Thunderstorm is the term I use to describe what thunderstorm means in my head. Which is: dark clouds, can't breathe, lightning, thunder, why is it so loud, there must be a tornado coming, my head is spinning, I wish I could disappear, what if the power goes out, what if I get struck by lightning, what if a tornado comes and sweeps me away, what if my family is swept away in a tornado, I can't breathe, diarrhea, I remember watching a show one time talking about these kinds of clouds and it produced a tornado, I remember this book I read as a child called Tornado Alert and it had pictures of houses blowing away, when will it be over, can't breathe, can't think, if I could just have a few Xanax, when will this be over...

     My second recollection of the noise is when I was in Elementary school. I felt a bump. And I thought (knew) the bump was cancer. And I thought (knew) I was going to die from it. I remember waking up in the morning and feeling the bump and thinking, "maybe today is the day I will die from that cancer bump?" When going to the Doctor's office for check-ups, I would try to avoid the Doctor somehow finding and touching the bump. I thought (knew) that if the Doctor saw, felt, touched, became aware of the bump, I would die faster. It was exhausting. Thinking about the bump. I thought about that bump all the way up until the ninth grade. I was sitting in English class, and I noticed the girl across from me had a similar bump. I asked her about it. I asked how long she had had it. She looked at me like I had worms crawling out of my ears. But for me...her admission to having the bump--which she stated was, in fact, a bone, that everyone has--made me feel like a dark cloud had been lifted from above my head. I was going to live! I wouldn't die from that bump after all! It was truly a joyous day for me. But, at the same time, very sad. Sad because I had wasted years and years of my life worrying about a bone. A bone! That I thought was cancer and that I would die from.
 
     One of my favorite movies is Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. I can't watch anything scary at all...it messes with my head too much. I stick to watching comedies, dramas, romantic movies, and kid movies. Oh, and old TV shows. It's interesting that a lot of my favorite movies are kid movies. Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium is one of those movies that I can watch over and over. I love it. It's about life. And death. And the wonder and magic of living life with no fear. It speaks to me because I so want to live that way. I want to be like Mr. Magorium. He is fun. And silly. Fearless. His life is like poetry. And he faces his death with courage and bravery.

    I face death everyday. Not literally. But in my mind. Everyday, I am reminded of the inevitable end of my life. All my fears begin with a fear of death. That is the root. And from it stems out a whole forest of fears. Thick and dark. Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium starts out talking about Mr. Magorium and the books written about his life. Eric (boy in the movie, narrator) states, "Magorium's story was reaching its final chapters. That's okay--all stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end. And when they do, it's only an opportunity for another story to begin." What a statement. What truth.

     Driving home the other day, I heard Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten," on the radio. I never really took the time to listen to it before because, honestly, the song kind of annoys me. But the lyrics are actually really amazing.

 I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

     Kind of amazing, right. "Drench yourself in words unspoken...Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten." No matter what one has written about them in the books of their lives so far...the rest is still unwritten. I've kept journals for as long as I can remember. Most times they are just--painful--to look through. Pages and pages of poor me, teen angst, why doesn't the world revolve around me...crap. But some of it makes sense. One such entry goes like this:

Things I have to do during my lifetime...in no order of importance

1. see the northern lights

2.see a whale in the wild, raging sea

3.swim with dolphins

4.write and publish a book

5.make a difference

6.walk down the aisle and become a wife to the man I love

7.have babies

8.be a teacher

9.go skinny-dipping

10.go sky diving, but not just to jump, but to leave the damn past and the 50,000 pounds of baggage behind me. I would just jump--and I would open my eyes and feel the burden gone--and I would look back only once to say fuck* you--I knew I could beat you.

*(Pardon the language...but sometimes there is just not an appropriate substitution for the word that makes a statement what it is.)

     That 50,000 pounds of baggage I'm talking about it is all the NOISE! All the fears. All the times I have laid awake at night thinking that death was upon me. Panic attacks, paranoia, obsessive-compulsive thoughts and behaviors...noise, noise, noise! Noise that steals time away from me. And my family. Noise that makes me cringe. Noise that disturbs me.

    

     Noise has been written about. Noise has already had its place in my life. But, here is the amazing part: the rest is still unwritten. Mr. Magorium has a good way of putting it. He is dying (he calls it departing), and Mahoney (Portman) doesn't want him to.

 
     "Your life is an occasion, rise to it." Ummm, wow. All my life, I've been afraid. Afraid of death. Afraid of dying. Afraid of my loved ones dying. It has been the common denominator of all my fears. But, I'm looking to write some new chapters in my life. The rest is still unwritten. Death hurts. True. There is no denying that death leaves a raw spot on your heart that will never scab over. But like Eric said in the movie, "all stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end. And when they do, it's only an opportunity for another story to begin." What an amazing statement. And it's the truth. I've seen death. I've lost many loved ones throughout the years. And it hurts. And stings. And it is a pain unlike any other. But with each death, with each ending to a book, a new one begins. So, maybe death isn't something to fear. Maybe it's something to learn from. And instead of focusing of death...I will focus on life, because, "your life is an occasion," and I should, "rise to it."