Nathalie's Notes

Of Milkshakes and Marriage

Long-term readers of this blog know I’ve been working on getting healthier eating habits, stronger and—out of favor as it is to say it—thinner.

I’m nearly half-way to my goal and as I often used to do when I see the possibility of actually achieving a goal, I sabotage myself.

Just as I was starting to feel better and fit into my smaller clothes, I went on a little binge. (I wonder if I will always have a variety of sizes of clothes in my closet making it look like I have so much to wear but really … no. Just the same pants I wore yesterday.) When my friend brought over a chocolate milkshake I put it in the freezer for later. By which I mean I hid it in the back of the freezer behind the frozen salmon. And then I forgot about it. By which I mean plotted my binge, waiting until every one else was dead asleep before coming downstairs to dig it out of the deep freeze and dig in.

I told myself I deserved it. A little treat for myself. Which really, is so considerate, right? I mean why not give myself something that will make me feel ill for a couple days – milk does me no favors … but this was a chocolate milkshake. in my house.

I enjoyed it to the last drop. By which I mean I inhaled it before I thought better of it berating myself the entire time. I know, total bliss right?

And then—why am I telling you this—I wrapped the empty cup in a plastic bag and threw it in the garbage hid it in the washing machine. Because that’s normal. And went to bed.

I woke up feeling, not surprisingly, sick and a little bit stupid. But not as stupid as I felt when I saw the garbage bag—yeah the same one I’d so carefully tucked among the towels loaded in the washing machine—sitting open in the sink.

Some of you know we haven’t been living in wedded bliss over here so my first thought wasn’t “Busted! How funny!”

It was more like a sinking feeling in my stomach followed by mortification quickly overtaken by rage: “What a jerk! Leaving the bag in the sink to shame me like this.” Because I am super good at jumping to negative conclusions. Awesome at it.

And because 6:30 in the morning is a good time as any to pick a fight I called my husband to inquire about this random garbage bag in the sink.

Husband:  It was weird. I don’t know, the kids must have stuck it in the washing machine.

Me: I think the real question is what you were doing digging around the washing machine at 5 a.m.

Husband: Really? That’s the question?

Me: Well, also why you put the bag in the sink and not the garbage.

Husband: Because there was a metal spoon in it! And so you’d know one of the boys put garbage in the washer.

Me: I will totally have a talk with them.

 

Yeah, we’re healthy like that.

Feel better about yourself?

You're welcome.

 

 

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Christmas (Box)ers

We’ve been reading The Polar Express, You Can Do It, Sam, and A Very Mater Christmas* every night at bedtime this week. Also, Sam is going crazy decking the halls. Here he’s decorated my room with random ornaments.

Which begs the obvious question: WHY?

I’d love to say this is some kind of “fun mom” boredom buster activity but alas … that’s totally not true.

The other day, the Cinco de Mayo, to be precise, Matt was out of clean underwear and didn’t have time to wait for the dryer to finish. So … I dug the last pair of clean boxers in the house out of the Christmas bins. Which is to say I lugged four heavy boxes out from the corner of my closet and rummaged through them until I found Matt’s least favorite, yet clean, article of clothing and tossed them to him. Feliz Navidad!

He didn’t laugh as hard as I did … or at all. But karma got me back as I am still, ten days later, trying to put Christmas back in the box it came from. (Which reminds me of my friend Marcus’ awesome post called The Christmas Thud).

The kids have had a blast with this little seasonal detour making merry with the New Year’s Eve noisemakers and sticking clovers anywhere they can. Finally, I’m caught up on laundry and the darling boxers are tucked away for their December debut. The boys, I’m betting can be distracted by sand, the ice cream truck (that aggressively circles our house at naptime) and sprinklers.

I thought this post nicely shows how life with little ones can make simple things like getting something out of storage turn into a ten-day collect the ornaments from all around the house extravaganza.

Having our Christmas books out did remind me of something I wanted to do this summer to be ready for December 1st. I’ll post on that soon – subscribe if you want so you don’t have to keep checking back to see when I’ve posted. Or is that just you, Mom? xo

Note: And yes, that is the aforementioned boxers lying on the floor right next to the laundry hamper. Which is totally not why our marriage has been a little rocky but … really, dudes … come.on.

Also … no, Matt doesn’t read my blog and yes he’d be a little annoyed that I wrote that but I’d totally win that argument because, hello?! I openly admit my little … quirks … like running out of clean clothes for instance.

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{Project Life: week 17}

 

And then nine weeks happened. I think I should rename this Project Life Goes On because I have managed to keep taking pictures and notes on the ordinary and extraordinary highs, lows and mediocre meanderings of our days.

And because, no matter what, life does go on and there is always something to be thankful for. Project Life (goes on) is one of the things I am so very grateful for, so here is week 17 and I will post weeks 9-16 later.

Title card: I was inspired by Maria to dress this card up – it’s one of my least favorites in the kit but when I saw her cute, simple addition I changed my mind and used it for the first time this year. I don’t love how the “week #17” turned out … but whatever.

(You can click on each picture to enlarge it and take a closer peek).

{Week 17: left side}

{Week 17: right side}

{Week 18 in progress}

Notes: I use a lot of index cards around here ala Anne Lamott. I’ve started recycling the backs of them in place of Post-its and write my ideas for journaling or pics I took, or want to take … my current Project Life hack is to tuck the days of the week stickers in the next week’s pocket so it’s right there as I’m popping pictures in the pockets. Not having those stickers immediately accessible was a small thing creating a big block in progress. Your block is probably different than mine but can likely be fixed with a tweak in your thinking, process or expectations.

This week I was inspired by Maria at Crazy Lovely Madhouse and by Christine Newman at My Scrapbook Art – Home is where the art is …

I love what Maria said about the Project Life honeymoon seemingly being over. It’s not that I lost my enthusiasm personally but I hit a rhythm and stopped seeking out the inspiration and ideas of others in the PL community. Their posts inspired me to share again and that makes me happy!

To see all my other Project Life posts click here and here.

My {secret} birth story

 

With Mother’s Day around the corner it seemed like as good a time as any to share my birth story. (Psst … Mother’s Day is next Sunday – don’t miss this chance to celebrate someone who matters to you, or your children … to my Dude friends … Mother’s Day means a lot to your moms and wives … for. real.)

This particular story about my beginning is one I’ve been wanting to write for a long time. (Here’s the link again.)Reading that will give the background for the posts to follow.

My column is only 600 words long. Since I’ve been writing that story since I was 14 years old, there was a lot of my story I had to leave out. The rest I’m writing here in a series of posts to cover that part of my journey …  as a rough draft of sorts and I am thankful for all your comments, input and questions. Truly and totally grateful.

Q: So do your parents know about this project?
A: Not yet. They will as soon as they land overseas. And get email access. Surprise! And p.s. I asked them last time I saw them if it would be okay with them for me to start writing about this stuff. The condensed version of their answer: It’s your story. xo 

FAQ #1: Do you know your real mom?

FAQ #2: So do you know what you are?

FAQ #3: But they lied to you?!

FAQ#4: Do you ever want to find your real* mom? Note: If the questions are asked in this order then this question might say “biological” mom since we’ve already clarified who my “real” mom is!

Did I miss any? Let me know by commenting here or shooting me an email. You can click on the letter image on the upper left corner of your screen. Cute, right? I hope you like it because after downloading this adorable freebie from the awesome Cathe Holden it took me 75 minutes to figure out how to make it work. But now it does, so you know, email me!

If you like reading this stuff would you consider subscribing to my blog? I won't do anything crazy with your address. Promise. 

Friday Favorites and other happy crack

I miss some of my regular blog features so I’m starting with bringing back my Friday Favorites which is really just a way to share some happy crack with you all and a reminder to me that there is always something to celebrate … even in chaos.

1. Every day this month Christina Katz is giving away a book on her blog: The Prosperous Writer. Check out the Writer Mama Every Day in May Giveaway to meet some cool authors and get some insight into your own writing with prompts and good conversation.

2. Speaking of the writerly life, participating in the world as a writer and showing up for each other and local events makes me happy. So this Sunday I’ll be at the final Northwest Author Series Presentation featuring Heather Vogel Frederick. I’d love to meet some of you there but we can only talk during commercials 'cause I'm totally taking notes! To learn more about this author click here.

3. Discovering Dave Ramsey = total happy crack.

Yep, that’s my credit card those are my credit cards tucked in this little envelope. This is really its own post so for today I’m just giving a shout out to the hopefulness that comes with staring down what scares you the most and realizing that with diligence, patience and persistence you really can accomplish just about anything.

4. Happiness is … not waiting for someone else to do it for you. This sweet little rub-on sign that says “Bless this house with love and laughter” had ironically become a source of personal bitterness.

It has moved with me to two houses in hopes of my husband putting it up for me. “Next weekend” never came and I never wanted to “do it wrong” and as it fell under the vague category of “his arena” it just didn’t get done. For.Ever. So when he moved out* … I realized if it’s going to get put up, I need to do it. Which, duh!, was true before but I needed to be okay with him being mad if I “did it wrong” or whatever. And that is the true happy crack I discovered this week: if my intentions are good and I am honest with myself about my true motives it is okay for people to be mad at me! (Also a post for another day.) That realization, 36 years later, is liberating. Every time I see this at the top of my stairs I smile. *As an interesting aside: when he moved back home, he didn’t notice it. Good thing I spent so much energy being ticked about it, huh?!

5. And, last but not least, a little Happy Crack for kids:

Heart-shaped muffin cups + water +  food dye + freezer = super fun bath time!

Disclaimer: if you start this you might as well keep a “batch” of these in a Ziplock in your freezer because they will be frequently requested.

Overheard

On this gorgeous Sunday in Oregon, I’m procrastinating writing a final draft of my birth story column … I’m looking through old drafts of emails and posts to find some specific phrases I want to use and found this little gem. I meant to post it a couple months ago, back when we were funny and more happily married. But even then there were cracks in our caulking … metaphorically and otherwise.*

Here ya go – overheard around the Hardy house:

Me: Good news! I finally found something that will scrub that nasty buildup on the caulking in the tub.

Matt: Why are you looking at me like that?

Me: Well, because now it has to be re-caulked so it’s back in your department. But it does look so much better!

~~~

Matt to me early in the morning as both boys are comfortably asleep in our bed while we have cramps, kinks and dead limbs: We have to figure out a way to keep these kids out of our bed!

Matt to me after getting home from work and seeing my new organizing project-in-progress:

That should keep them out of our bed. Where are we going to sleep though?

~~~

When Sam started “marking” his and Jake’s cars with my nail polish, inspired by his dad and uncle’s system circa 1979, I got a headache from the smell. He was marking each one so … intricately.**

 

Me to Sam: You’re not taking them to prom! Just do one dot and move on.

~~~

Me to Matt (after the aforementioned project was completed***):

I’m not sure which is the title, the deed, and what all that stuff means so in the event of my untimely death it’s all in a file marked “{street name} – title.”

Matt: I’m not planning to throttle you or anything.

Me: Or, you could’ve said that in the event of my untimely death paperwork would be the least of your concerns … not to put words in your mouth or anything.

 

*Guess what? We are working on repairing this marriage of ours. Despite what anyone else tells me that feels harder than going through with the divorce. I have faith, though, that it’s the right thing to do for me personally, and for our family.

** Why, you might wonder, are some marked with pink AND red. Well, naturally those cars belong to both boys.

*** Y’all get that when I say “completed” I mean, removed from the bed and turned into small landmines throughout my office/bedroom/studio right? Okay, good.

Missing socks (and other things)

Project Lie.

Whoops. I didn’t mean to write that. Freudian slip much?

I’ve been working on finding the right words to follow up my abrupt cyber silence.

There just aren’t any … so I’ll simply tell the truth and trust you to be as kind as possible to all parties involved.

I suppose long time readers of this blog could see this coming before I did. While it does not come as a complete surprise it is still a shock to share with you that at this time my husband and I are separated.

I was waiting to say anything until I heard through the grapevine that he was sharing the news with people as he is an intensely private person. (Just one of many things we don’t have in common).

I also don’t know where this separation will lead us … only that it is a relief to have stopped trying so hard and pretending that all is well behind our white picket fence.

I wrote about our unraveling last September. And I can’t explain it better now than I did then. Except to say we’ve traveled farther down the path and in the wrong direction and are currently on distinctly different roads. We might find the intersection of us again. And, we might not.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I appreciate your support and kindness toward our family, fractured as it may be.

I am, obviously, working on a new path since being a write-from-home mama might not be a viable option any longer. Unless I have a reader who’s been longing to be a benefactor?! I would totally dedicate one of my books to you!

I am sorry to those who feel it’s selling out to monetize this blog, and I hope not to lose readers but at the moment I have to do what I can to make the best of what I have. I love writing this blog and ask that those of you who shop on Amazon please consider shopping through the link on this page because as an Amazon Affiliate I get some credit with each purchase linked from here. Thank you.

The horror … shopping and stylin’

I’ve never been a huge fan of shopping. My mom can back me up on that. Hate it. Always have. Luckily I’ve been super blessed by a mom and friends with good taste and have survived primarily on hand-me-overs from them. (And still happily accept them!) But I’ve become a little more particular as I figure out what my own style is. I know, in my 30s. By which I mean late 30s. Okay, at age 36.

Having two little kids has not enhanced my love for shopping even a little bit. They do that whole crawling under the changing room door just when I’ve wrangled myself into something that won’t fit unless or until I go back to see that hardcore spinning teacher dude. (I know!)

All that is to say, I go rarely and I go armed. With snacks, an activity and apologies in advance. I found this awesome little store in Newberg, Velour, fashion recycled. And planned my trip carefully. I knew I only had a small window before the kids were out of crackers and then I saw it in the window. The perfect outfit assembled by someone who knows what they are doing. Which is so much better than my awkward hacking together of what might look good. (Besides my go-to T-shirt and jeans look, that’s always hot.)

So I bought the whole thing, except the shoes which did happen to be in my size as well. I also had time to pick out a new tee. I was outta there in record time and excited to wear it out the next night.

Here’s how that went:

Anyone who’s seen me in the last 36 years knows I’m a pretty conservative dresser. So, when I wear an outfit that’s kind of boob-a-licious you’d think Matt would notice.

He did not.

We had a fun night out with friends anyway. Except the two hours I endured watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show which I hated. (The cast did an awesome job and I did like seeing my friend April on stage. But as for the cult classic itself … To whom is may concern: I want those two hours of my life back!)

Luckily the show was sandwiched between a mediocre dinner with fabulous friends and margaritas with the same rad people, though I’m not sure any amount of tequila could erase the memory of what I’d just endured.

But this post is not about that; it’s about what an adorable nerd my husband is. So the next day, boob-a-licious dress forgotten I’m wearing my new $5 T-shirt featuring the cover of The Great Gatsby and Matt goes: “I like your shirt, babe. Is that new?”

Proving that reading is sexy.

From yours truly

[Editor's note: I posted this after creating my own handwriting font, thinking I was so clever. I was eager to share it, and my love of handwriting with you all. Then I traveled across the country and got super sick. I returned to the land of the living to find Susan Branch, yes THE Susan Branch, commented  on this post asking if the handwriting I was so sure posted perhaps didn't. Even though I saw it on my computer ... because, duh! Your computers don't come with the Nathalie's Notes font. Shocking, I know. I'll add it to my list of things to figure out someday.]

  I LOVE handwriting! Many of my favorite books include the author’s handwriting in them: SARK, Sabrina Ward Harrison, Susan Branch to name a few. I think I love it so much because it’s personal. And I’ve always thought personal is meaningful. One of my favorite memories from my wedding season was when, at my bridal shower, my girlfriends each wrote some advice on a paper my Maid of Honor, Amy, prepared. They were anonymous. But I knew every single person’s handwriting by sight. Loved that.

All that is to say … this is my handwriting. How cool is that?! I used myscriptfont.com to create a font using my own handwriting. [[(Er... see above note).  [[[[

I’d love to say it was in honor of National Handwriting Day last week – but that’s just a coincidence. I’m considering using this for my posts but am not about  the .readability. Let me know your thoughts.

It just seems like a natural way for me to use this medium to communicate personal things as I work on developing my new class for Big Picture Classes, The Art of Self Preservation because … I got the gig!

The editors at Big Picture Classes accepted my proposal and I actually get to teach a class about the very thing I’m most passionate about. Online as many of you requested when I was doing it locally.

I am over.the.moon excited!

I hope you guys will consider joining me on that journey and taking the class with me!

So much more to say, but I just finished my TheraFlu and the alarm is set for 4 a.m. for a crazy-fun adventure. More on that later, too.

Put down the bat

 

A couple weeks ago I wrote about the importance of keeping our eyes on our own paper when it comes to comparing ourselves, our work, our lives with the highlight reels of others.

Becky Higgins posted on the same topic that same day and generously linked to my post which is how I got to connect with so many of you. (Yay!)

I felt like the message was well received and hit home for a lot of us. Which validated my belief that we are experiencing an esteem epidemic among women in our country. (This may be true for men, and other  countries but I can only speak to that which I know for sure.)

Further proof that this is so was found in comments and posts responding to encouragement to keep things simple if that is what works for you. Somehow, this got translated for some to feeling like a pass to mock, criticize and put down others for approaching Project Life in a more embellished fashion. That was never my intent. My point, and I know this is true for Becky as well, was—and is—that how someone else does something is not a reflection or commentary on YOU, your process or your end product.

One comment that stood out to me in particular said something about being bothered by all the stuff Becky was posting as inspiration because this person didn’t like being made to feel inferior.

Made to feel inferior.

It feels like that sometimes, doesn’t it?

Until you realize that Eleanor Roosevelt’s famous words, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” are true to the core.

But you have to be willing to recognize the truth in that and invest in yourself to the point where you are grounded enough in your own sense of self to master (and override) the part your brain that allows you to think someone else is in control of any part of you.

Does that make sense?

It’s possible. I promise. And I’m at this very moment developing a class to help guide anyone who is interested along that journey to personal emotional empowerment.

(Partly because I’m an expert in a lot of ways not to be mentally healthy! While I don’t have it all figured out, the good news is I understand clearly “all figured out” was never the point.)

If the person who made that comment, or felt that way is reading this, I mean no disrespect. I totally get that feeling. I totally get thinking other people are making me feel a certain way.

There was a time I rolled around judging other people by how their looks made me feel about mine. (Not proud to admit that but it’s the truth.) It took me a long time to realize that’s what I was doing. And longer still to change the pattern in my brain. But my life is more peaceful because of it.

Another example that I realized only this morning (!):

Talking to a good girlfriend last night I mentioned that the perfect analogy for a particular relationship in my life is the Whac-a-Mole game, remember that? Where you had a bat and you’d beat the mole down every time it popped up?

“I feel like every time I forgive, rally and agree to move forward – whack! I’m the mole!” I told her. I prayed about this relationship before going to sleep, asking for peace in my heart, guidance and clarity.

This morning I woke up with this sentence on my mind: Yes, you are the mole. You are also holding the bat.

I’ll leave you with that, for now.

p.s. If you like reading this blog, I’d take it as a lovely compliment if you subscribed! Thank you.

Note: for anyone who’d like it, you may copy, save and/or print the quote card I made at the top of this post. I made it for you. If you need me to email it to you, let me know!