I never use to get sick.  When people would ask me how I managed to avoid the cold going around the office, I always use to tell them it was mind over matter.  A healthy mind produced a healthy body.  I believe that.

Well, I seem to be sick an awful lot anymore.

In my last post, I hinted at how I was going to make myself happier and healthier this year.  And no, I am not referring to giving up potato chips for lent, but the part where I joked about saving the world, albeit one step at a time.  I plan on joining a group or volunteering my time to a worthy cause.  Because I have discovered that this makes me a happier person. 

I use to volunteer my time and energy a lot before I “settled down”.  I use to work in the mental health field.  I use to be committed.

And I never got sick.

But somewhere between the house, the kids, the job and full time life, I lost that part of me.  And I need to get it back.  Although I enjoy my job, it is in the wee hours, while lying in bed at night where I start to feel the void.  What did I accomplish today?  Yeah, I figured that thing out, I solved that problem, I helped those people.  But all those actions only amount to earning my paycheck, by making other people more money.

I want to lie in bed and rattle off at least one accomplishment which did not benefit me or make someone else wealthier, and I want to do it without a stuffy nose! 

{What are your plans for a healthier new year?  Share them over at Blogher and you might win a trip to BlogHer ‘08!}

Hello.

Consider this an apology more than anything else.

I know I have been MIA in the past months (has it been that long?).  Please let me explain.

It goes something like this…  remember that baby I had? The one that was just starting to bloom, exploring language, figuring out life?  Well, she’s all grown up it seems.  Yep, I now have a little girl and the baby is all gone.  It seems like over night that Piper went from a toddler content with examining her socks for hours on end and going to bed at 7:30, to this… this… amazing little girl who soaks up life at every second and responds to me as a complete person.

Gone are the days where my evenings stretched before me with hours of time to spare, all for me.  Now, after dinner with the family, the chirping begins.

“Mommy, come play with me.”

“Mommy, come read to me.”

“Mommy, come draw with me.”

“Mommy, come cuddle with me.”

And the thing is?  I want to cuddle, I want to play, I want to draw.  It’s not like I don’t want to blog or catch up on what everyone is up to and how your little ones are also blossoming by leaps and bounds.  I just can’t keep up with my own budding flower at this point.

And then there is the job, the one that has hit a critical point, a top-priority-everything-must-get-done-right-now point.  And I want to deliver and do well with that, even if it keeps me at the office an hour later each night, or makes me go in an hour earlier in the morning, or makes me work through my lunch (which tends to be my real blogging time, but please don’t tell).

I’m still here!  Thanks for asking, all you guys!  And I do still care very much how everyone is and what you are all up to.  When things slow down at work, or the little one can manage without me for a spell, I will be back and catching up.  I often have posts to write, but somehow feel like it’s cheating to post while knowing all too well I can’t reciprocate back right now.  So, I find myself holding off until I can do it right.

And I still want to go to BlogHer this year, so I am saving my pennies!!! 

Worst case scenario? We catch up in person!  I can live with that for now, can you?

P.S. Just for the record, my bloglines alert is telling me I have 864 new posts to read! I’m trying to get there my friends, I’m trying!

Jen of One Plus Two recently wrote a wonderful post about mourning the magic. The magic and joy our toddlers see and feel within the world every day. Here is a snippet of the post which you must go read (in my typical fashion I never got my shit together to nominate it for a perfect post award).

I lost this magic, this utter precocious appreciation for every single color and every single thing. Rampant wild joyous magic. It’s this loss I mourn the most. And I thank all that is holy that I have been graced with a daughter who is kind enough to show me the way back. Back to the magic, back to myself.

I cried when I read this post. I still think about the words she wrote all the time, especially when I watch my daughter play in her magical world. I too have lost the magic. Yet like Jen, I have my untainted, pure toddler to bring it back to me in golden snippets that never fail to pleasantly surprise me. With her absolute excitement, her never ending awe and her openness to receive and give to everyone and everything.

The way she interacts with all the inanimate objects around her brings me back. When I was little, the whole world was alive. I remember taking great pains to rotate the chairs I would sit on. To me, they all had feelings and hearts, so I tried my best to sit on them all evenly, lest one of them think I liked another one more. I see this personification emerging in my daughter stronger and stronger everyday. And it fills my heart to the point of exploding.

Her world is alive. There are friends and playmates in every direction, appearing in a blink of an eye. True, with it comes some foes like the scary monsters that lurk in the shadows. But even those can suddenly become a giggle partner when exposed by the light.

Every day there seems to be a new adventure with a new pal. She is a caring soul, my daughter. She delights in making others happy and making sure they are well tended to in every way. And that includes our new trash can.

When Piper saw that sticker on the front of the new trash can, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Pointing at the photo, she exclaimed in pure and absolute excitement, “Ooooooh, loooooooooooook! Trash can, that’s you! That’s you! That’s your picture right there!”

Her face, her voice, her excitement and joy. Over a trash can. Over a picture of a trash can.

And just like that. {Poof}  My heart melts all over the kitchen floor. With every object she brings to life, I become more alive. Like magic.

Last year for Thanksgiving was what I call an “alternate year”.  It seemed like everybody was heading over to their in-laws, or significant alternate families.  My husband and I decided not to cook, seeing as it was just the three of us.  Then it turned out that none of our alternates invited us over.  So there were, with no family to eat with and no plans whatsoever.  So, we got in the car and drove to my mother’s house and took her out to dinner.

There is something spontaneous and fun in eating out for Thanksgiving.  I hadn’t done that since my college years, when all us misfit students got together and hit the local Radisson Inn (cooking was not option).  It isn’t the same as eating out any other day.  Patrons in restaurants are friendlier, more talkative, reaching out.  That sense of Thanksgiving, a special holiday, breaks downs walls and barriers, extending your “family gathering” to the entire restaurant.

But still, it is not the same as an old fashion gathering of loved ones.  Needless to say, we are cooking this year. And the whole gang is coming for the most part. While I am excited and will certainly be thankful come Thursday, right now it is just mayhem.

Cleaning. 

Need I say more?

What are your plans? Are you getting away scott free this year? Or like me, are you running around like a chicken without a head, with the windex in one hand and the vacuum in the other?

And just think… Once it all ends, you get to start all over with Christmas! Toss in a 50th birthday party in between and color me chaotic all the way.