Oh Well, Better Luck Next Year

I am constantly disappointing myself. OK that's not even true.  I am mostly amused by things I do that should disappoint me.  Here's just a few examples from this weekend of why my bid for Mother of the Year is slowly slipping from my grasp yet again. 

1.  Upon finding three different kinds of food in Will's hair this morning during church I found myself wondering when was the last time I gave him a bath.  And I couldn't remember. I literally could not remember the last time I gave the kid a bath.  If memory serves me correctly Jeremy gave him one on Thursday night while I was at the gym working out.  Seriously I was.  So Thursday night to Sunday morning.  In 100 degree heat.  Well, he's clean now so that's all that really matters.   Reason I might still be in the running for MOTY:  I took them to church. 

2.  I have consistently demonstrated to my children that procrastination is acceptable.  We did Justin's homework 10 minutes before bedtime tonight.  Reason I'm still in the running:  We actually did his homework

3.  While doing the aforementioned homework with Justin I convinced Leo his very helpful role could be rubbing my feet.  Reason I'm still in the running:  I'm teaching him to be attentive to the women in his life (I realize I might be stretching it a little on that one).

4.  I let Leo wear this out of the house today.  To one of Justin's friend's house.  That we don't even know that well.  But one of her kids has answered the door in his underwear so I think we're still cool. 

 yes, that is a child's three piece suit minus one of the pieces.....oh, and the shirt.  
Reason I am still in the running: I didn't let him wear it to church like he really, really, really wanted to. 

Plan vs. Focus

A very wise man told me this week that he has never had a plan and he isn't going to start now.  I was in much agreement. 

This week I submitted my resignation for a job that I have known and loved for eight years.  And that was not the plan.  No, no, no that was not the plan.  Or what I had thought was the plan. 

I should have known better.  All of the best things in my life have been unexpected.  My life works best and moves forward smoothly when I stop trying to plan and force it into action.  My life works best when I focus on what is important to me.  FOCUS.  Stop planning.  Stop assuming.  Just focus. 

It's not that what I thought was my plan was a bad way to go.  It was working for me.  It was very solid.  Very consistent.  Definitely was a great option.  I could have stayed in that job for another ten years and been just fine.  I could have promoted and retired with a state pension.  I know those are hard to come by these days.  But possibly, just possibly, I was not completely satisfied.  Not completely fulfilled in my ever increasing desire to challenge and extend my abilities.  And I didn't even realize that until I opened my heart and mind to the fact that there might be another path for me.  Opened my mind and heart to the fact that not only was change possible, but very much within my grasp.  It is ok to change. 

And just as soon as I became comfortable with that thought and began to really spend some time in prayer for what it could mean for me, change happened.  The power of prayer will never cease to amaze me.  Change dropped right in my lap.  Happened fast and furious. I wasn't looking or particularly seeking it out.  But it is SO right for me.  I found it and it found me.  There are some definite parts to it that are out of my comfort zone; out of my usual  program areas.  It's still social work and still focused on the safety of children in our community.  I have so much to learn from my future peers and employees.  I am so ready to soak up every bit of knowledge they have about forensic interviewing and management of the program.  But there are also parts of this new job that are just screaming my name.  Such a great fit for me.  Like a hand in a glove (or jug, as Allison would say).  The possibilities seem endless.  I have so much to offer and so much to gain. 

But oh I am so sad to leave my job.  I've cried more in the last 9 days than I probably have in the last 9 years.  Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration but still I am surprised at my own emotions.  Maybe a more accurate statement would be that I have cried more in front of people in the last 3 days than I have in all of my time in Platte County.  No one can ever convince me there is a better working team in Missouri.  For anyone that has ever studied group settings, we are in Stage 4: Performing.  (if you care, we went through stages 1-3 of forming, storming, and norming....and oh, the fond memories I have of those stages!).  We have been "performing" our asses off for about the last 4 years.  We have made significant strides in how we serve foster youth in Platte County and move them to the best possible permanency outcome.  I am SO PROUD to have been a part of it.

But I am reminded that I am only one person on that team.  One spoke on the ol' wagon wheel for those of you that will get that reference ;) At one point in time I would have thought that it was so much of my own doing.  How very narcissistic of me.  How unfortunate to not give as much value to all of the many other team members that make Platte Co function.  I previously would have never thought about leaving for fear that it would all implode without my leadership.  But, I am learning that leadership is more about leading than it is doing.  I was a do'er for most of my time in Platte County.  Carried it on my shoulders for a long time, unnecessarily. That team is going to be successful in serving the families in Platte County with or without me.  My standard motto of "it's not wrong, it's just different" will be well played out in Platte Co over the next few months and years.  For my staff, the community players, the foster parents, and the families it won't be the way "Gwen did it" but it will a different way to do it.  Sometimes a little bit more right, sometimes a little bit more wrong.  Different. 

And the same will be true in my new job.  I'm stepping into a wonderfully well-oiled machine which is something that is completely foreign to me.  Clean up someone's mess?  Solve someone's disaster? I'm your gal.  Continue to maintain and strengthen the integrity and functioning of a well managed program?  Well, we'll just see how that goes. 

New job.  New focus. Planning, be damned.  Very much looking forward to it. 

Proverbs 19:21  "Many are the plans in a mans heart but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." 

Rock-a-bye-bye, my baby!

Sad.  So very, very sad.  I feel like a fool though because I know that people have real loss in their lives and this loss is very superficial, but a loss nonetheless.  I can't hardly bear to even write the words.  Here goes.

I, Gwen O'Brien, no longer have a recliner in my living room.

There.  I said it.  I am a disgrace to my family.  The Hales family will disown me for sure.  How have I become such a....such a.....such an O'Brien??  I mean when I first met Jeremy and his family I thought "who ARE these people?"  With their crazy couch and loveseat set-ups.  No moving furniture?  Wh-wh-whaaaat???  I mean I love them, but WTF??

It's ok.  It's gonna be ok.  I can survive this.  I know it seems silly but this is a truly painful shift in my life.  I was born and raised on a recliner.  Well, not born on one.  That would have just been awkward and quite frankly disgusting.  But I would bet a lot of money it was the first place I visited upon being brought home from the hospital.  Which is really why I think this is so painful.  Rocking recliners are meant for rockin' babies.  And I have.  For 6 straight years I have rocked my babies in my living room and now I just have to sit on a stupid couch and stare at them.  And they at me.  BORING.  And not at all relaxing.  Or comforting.

It was this last little baby that is responsible. Yes, I have William to thank for this.  And yes, I will hold him responsible for the rest of his life.  That tiny kid has spewed so much spit up on me and that chair that it couldn't be saved.  No amount of Febreze could save it.  I have tried.

Oh I miss it so much.  This is the first blog I have ever written while slouching on my couch.  Stupid couch and ottoman.  It's true that our living room looks better with the two matching pieces of furniture in it.  It was overcrowded with my recliner and it didn't match.  But I didn't care.  Beauty isn't everything.  It's what is inside that counts.  I don't know how that is even relevant here but it sounds good. 

I refused to let the new fancy furniture bully my sweet little 1990-esk recliner.  I continued to give it all of my attention even after we bought new furniture 3 years ago.  It was perfectly fit to my body.  I had it for 15 long years!  It has lived in 2 states, 3 cities, and 8 households.  And now it is sitting sadly in the garage awaiting it's death.  I wonder if it even knows.  If it's out there wondering what it could have done differently.  I wonder if it's silently cursing the overstuffed chair or if it's stepping aside gracefully for the newer and perkier models.  I wonder if it's feeling unloved and abandoned or if it's just basking in the wonderful memories we made over the years.  I wonder if I'm even still writing about the chair.  Awkward.

I miss the glue stain where Louie ate a bottle of Elmer's glue on it when he was a puppy.  I miss losing the remote in the sides.  I miss the boys climbing up on the arms to sit and read books with me.  Wayyyyyy to much room for all of us on the couch.  On my chair we were crammed together.  And it was a good thing. 

But it had to go.  I loved you dear, dear recliner, but it was time to let you go.  And with your departure enters a new era in my life.  One of boring, matching, adult furniture. BLAH!

O'Brien Boy Stories

'Cuz who doesn't like some good ol' O'Brien boy stories....I've been writing them down quickly when they occur to blog later.  as I put them together today I was surprised how many were potty humor.  Not sure why I am surprised though.  It will be my life for the next 20+ years. 

Me: We are having spaghetti for dinner.
Leo:  NOOOO!  I don't want spaghetti.  I get so tired.  I have to twist and twist and twist and twist and twist and twist.  I'm so tired!

After Leo asked for his vitamin Justin said "Do I dare ask for one too?" 

Favorite one-liners from Daycare Bowling night:
Leo:  I took a poop.  Now let's bowl!
Justin:  I really thought there would be an audience.

Watching the Billboard Music Awards and Justin Beiber was accepting an award and thanking his fans:
Justin: THAT'S Justin Beiber?  I think I'm one of his fans.  Aren't I? 

Leo:  (while Justin was getting in trouble) Mom, you are beautiful and wonderful and I love your toenails. 

While watching me change Will's poopy diaper:
Leo:  Remember dad's big poop?
Justin:  Yeah.  It was bigger than Will's.  Because Dad is bigger.  His was HUGE!
Leo:  I have to poop.
Justin: If I had 100 kids our house would smell like a diaper. 

Justin came running out of the lake with an urgent need to use the restroom (#2). 
Me: What's with you waiting until the last minute to tell me you have to go potty?
Justin:  Wellllll, sometimes I fake it.  You know like how I fake stuff sometimes?
Me: Like what?
Justin:  Like when you tell me to go wash my hands or something and I just go upstairs but I just fake it and don't really do it.   (pause)  Sorry about that, by the way

Life Coach. Apply Within

I need a change.  Gotta change it up a bit.  Neeeeeeed to change it up a bit.  Perhaps this is a bit of a mid-life crisis.  Although as a social worker I object to the word "crisis" because in no way is this an emergent situation that needs immediate attention or requires any kind of freak out.  As if I would ever freak out.  Maybe that's the change I need to make.  Just start freaking out every few days?  Nah.  Not my style. 

But this is a mid-life thing. I don't think I realized it at first but this thing.....perhaps I will call it a re-evaluation period....because that is more my speed......anyway, this thing that is upon me is appearing as I cross over into my late 30's.  Coincidence?  Maybe.  It's now or never. Ok.  Again, "never" might be overstating it a bit.  But the now part is completely accurate. Why not now?  So I'm reaching my late 30's and I am reevaluating.  Nothing major.  I'm not about to leave my husband and children, buy a Ferrari, and move to California.  I'm not going to quit my job (right now) or dye my hair red.  It's more about self improvement.  It's about positive and healthy change.  Physically, mentally, spiritually. 

I want to be better.  Well, let's be honest. I want to be the best as that is my competitive nature but there is no such thing as the "best" person.  And in my quest to be the best I am ending up in utter failure.  So I really just want to be better.  Even a little bit better than I am right now.  But I'm doing a horrible job at managing life these days.  Sooooo.....

I'm made the executive decision that I need a life coach.  I am accepting applications.  I won't be listing qualifications because I am open to assessing all applicants.  Hit me with your best shot and I'll see if it's a good fit.

I am overwhelmed in the areas in which I want to improve.  Diet, exercise, parenting, relationship, engagement in church activities, employment, budgeting.  The list goes on and on.  I need guidance and structure and someone to hold me accountable.  I know that "they" (whoever the heck "they" are) say to make changes one at a time.  Pfooey! 

I respond well to coaching.  I was coached for a good bit of my life.  And I would like to assume that this life coach thing will not involve anyone throwing gym equipment, screaming obscenities at me, weighing me, or making me feel worthless for poor performance.  Although I have survived all of that so honestly I think I could take it. 

So I need a life coach.  I need change. I need improvement.  Maybe there's an app for that.

Backyard Fun

We have high hopes for our back yard. One of these days we will tear off the deck and pour a new patio and make it super beautiful and inviting.  Until then....this will have to do. 

Justin, our little trapeze artist

Jeremy wondering why the heck I am taking his picture.

 

Jeremy can't resist mugging for the camera after he realizes I will not stop taking his picture

Check out that sweet ass!

Uh oh.  Daddy no likey getting his picture taken anymore. 

He's thinking "I LOVE MOWING!!!!"

and now "are you still taking my f-ing picture??"

and now our dog Sammy takes a big dump right where Jeremy is getting ready to mow. 

Who says I don't look like Brooke Shields?

It's been over 2 months since my last blog post.  Life has been busy.  I try desperately to get some time set aside to post and I have a few started but just can't seem to get them finished. For months I have been thinking of this great idea for a post and today I took the time to put it together.  It was sooooooo worth it.  I am certain, without a doubt, that you will enjoy this little trip down memory lane.

It will be hard not to focus on my clothing because it, in and of itself, is rather entertaining.  But try your hardest to stay focused on the ever changing hairdo's.  Some pictures you won't be able to help yourself from staring at it.   Some pictures you won't be able to peel your eyes away from it.  While others you will try to avoid looking at it straight on.  I can't say I blame you. 

I feel certain that God has given me boys because he knows it would be a sin for me to put girls though anything remotely similar.  Mind you, I don't blame my mother.  Most of the time this was my idea. 

It all started back in 1977.  Such a sweet little baby girl with blond hair.

Gettin' my tap dancin' on with my saddle oxfords. 

And then......my hair got darker.  And for some reason that required a bowl cut.  And I just wanted to be like my daddy.

Who knows what my hair looked like at Pre-School.  I am pretty sure it never came out of that hood.  Apparently I was the only one bracing for a snow storm (that's me on the top right). 

Oh, there's my hair.  Perfectly curled under for 1st day of Kindergarten. 

 

And then......brace yourselves.  I found the joy of perms.  Enter:  the Afro stage! 

 

 

Now this next picture is my absolute favorite.  Let me set the stage for you.  It has to have been around 1984.  Someone was taking "professional" photos at Hales Market....because that is a perfectly normal place to have your photos taken.  Next to the bread and cereal aisle.  I had recently seen a picture of Brooke Shields smiling with her mouth open.  I thought she was beautiful!  I was certain that I could match it.  Positive I looked just like her.  If your opinion differs and you think that I am NOT her spitting image please just keep those thoughts to yourself. So here is my very best Brooke Shields look.   Brace yourself. 

 

 

 

And I rocked that fro all the way into 2nd grade.  





 

And then something happened in 3rd grade.  Perhaps we were poor that year.  No money for perms.  So same hairdo, minus the tight curls. 



 

 

 But that was too flat.....my hair needs some BODY to it!  I don't know where it came from but somehow, somewhere, someone invented this little Mary Lou Retton do with a twist.....flip up all of the ends into a bell shaped NIGHTMARE!!!!

 

Although it worked perfect for the ring of flowers that I wore as flower girl at Karol and Peter's wedding!  

And here it is....in all it's glory....year after year....(5th grade)

after year.....oh yes, add some glasses.....that makes it all better! 

after year.....I am pretty sure this is my first day of 7th grade.  I'm sure I fit right in moving from Covel D Searcy Elementary in Gallatin to Raytown Middle School.  (nice Holly Hobby bed spread)

OHHHHH, it wasn't enough to take one school picture this year (7th grade).  I had to do it twice.  Once in Gallatin so they could be ordered with my sister's pictures to give to all of the grandparents aunt's and uncles....and then another one at my actual school.  This stage in my life was so worth capturing twice.  UGH!!!!

So this morning I pulled out the picture on the left and asked the boys "Who is this?"  They pondered and pondered.  They could not figure it out.  I so badly wish I had the camera on when I told them it was me.  They had the most horrified looks on their sweet little faces.  Justin insisted it could not be me because the picture is "a boy." 

BUT, when I turned the page of the photo album to this little gem of a picture Justin said "Ok, that one looks like you" 

 

 

Ok, enough of the short hair. It was finally time to grow it out.  Please just focus on the hair and try your hardest to ignore the Hammer pants.  

 

 

 

9th grade.  Contacts.  Braces.  Letting the curls go natural finally. 

Longest my hair has ever been. 

But then it would smack me in the face when I went upside down.....soooooo......

 

 

It was back to short hair for Senior Pictures.  Pretty sure I capture all requirements in these photos.  Standard blazer for formal picture.  Vest and jeans for outdoor picture.  And sexpot/lay on one arm/twist head in awkward position trying to look good picture.