How I got the name

Three Little Birds. I couldn't think of a better title. I looked around at other blogs and saw all of the clever names that people come up with. I thought about it for a few minutes and decided that since this blog is about me and my life I should come up with something that describes me and my life. I decided on my theme song. My only other choice was "hot and happy mom." Just kidding.

Back in the early 90's, I read somewhere that you should find a theme song and try to live your life by it. I was going through the only version of teen angst that I knew and having a rough time with school and boys. Mainly school, but boys as well. I was trying to follow in my sister's footsteps at that time instead of finding my own way. I did well in school, but I had to work REALLY hard at it. My sister was Valedictorian of her high school class and I remember her rarely having to study. I couldn't understand why I worked three times as hard as others for the same results, sometimes less. What I did not know then was the hard work that I had to do to get somewhere or something only made me that much stronger for it. I was also a competitive swimmer then. My plan was to go to the Olympics. I worked and worked and swam and swam. I was good at swimming, but not Olympic material. I was always told that if you want something, work for it. I did not know the part about sometimes having to fail a lot in order to win. Fall down, get back up. These experiences prepared me for future, harder times ahead. I now know that you do the best you can, work hard and deal with what you've got. And be happy about it. If not, go work harder and do more. But stop whining! Someone is always going to be cuter, richer and better than you. But when you feel like crap, you know that somone is always uglier, poorer and worse than you as well.

I was going through this rough patch and one day I was home studying for a big test. My parents were having a huge fight and talking about divorce. Just like magic, Three Little Birds by Bob Marley came through my stereo. I had heard the song before, but never paid attention to the lyrics. The lyrics struck me like a smack in the face. This song has popped up at various, appropriate times in my life since then. Ever since that day, I have tried not to worry, knowing that every little thing is gonna be alright. So far, it has!

Now you know the story behind my theme song and the name of this blog. However, it gets better! I am slowly learning how to navigate my way around the blogging world. I wanted to find a great picture to go with the title. What could I do? I thought about using someone on a tropical island with a tropical drink in hand. When I am having a rough time, I pretend I am near water sipping on a tasty beverage. But it just didn't seem to fit. I don't really have an affection for birds. I don't dislike them, they just aren't my thing. But I typed in "3 little birds" anyway. Voila! Pictures of rubber ducks showed up. Then I knew it was meant to be. Now you get to hear the story about me and rubber ducks.

My dad is a collector. He picks up stuff and puts it away for future use, even if there is no future use for it. When I was about 11 or 12, my dad had a rubber duck on the dashboard of his car. He had it there for a long time. I finally asked why one day. He said he found it on the side of the road and put it in his car. After awhile, he liked the thought of a rubber duck on his dashboard because it reminded him of how he wanted to live his life. He said he tried not to take things so seriously. Just like water going down a duck's back. He always said to just roll with things and blow them off. Now, I am a sensitive person. I was VERY sensitive as a kid. My dad is an intense, type A person. Great guy, but intense. He was always telling me to stop being so sensitive, to blow things off. And he always used the duck reference. When I turned 16, we fixed up my first car. He did most of the fixing, but we worked on it for months before I could drive it. When it was fixed up 4 months after my 16th birthday, he handed over the keys. I got inside and a yellow rubber duck was sitting on the dashboard. My first rubber duck.

Since then, we have discovered more reasons to like rubber ducks. First, ducks remind me of my childhood at the lake. My dad said he loves watching ducks swim because above water they look so graceful. Below water, they are kicking furiously. He always said it was great to live life like that. You might be working your ass off, but make it look easy!

Having a rubber duck on the dash has become a family tradition. My mom and sister have a rubber duck in their cars. There are several people that are important in my life. They have been given rubber ducks for their cars as well. If I have given you a rubber duck, you are in the circle. Friends assumed I collected them, so people started giving me rubber ducks. It wasn't my intention to collect them, but I always have several so I guess I do. I decided to start putting a bunch on my dashboard. I sometimes drive a little crazy and they would fly off. So I velcro them to the dash. Ever since I graduated college, my jobs have required a lot of driving. I spend lots of time in my vehicle. Now, when I look at my dash, it reminds me to always try to keep my ducks in a row!
The fact that these two parts of my life came together in this blog is pretty cool. I have a feeling this blog is going to be a great thing! Coincidence? I don't think so.

Letters to my Heart

Sweet Maya,

I noticed last night while we were out for a walk how tall you have gotten. You are growing out of being a toddler and into a girl. As I watched you eat dinner, your features took my breath away. Your brown ringlets were in your face, your little mouth chewed quietly and your almond shaped eyes looked up at me and sparkled. Even daddy's camera could not capture you the way I saw you. My God! You are stunning! I got a glimpse of how you will look as a young woman. I can't imagine how I will get through your teen years. But then you looked up and said "mom, can I have pig spit for dessert?" and I quickly remembered that I have several years to figure that out. 

                          

                                                ******************************

Handsome Logan,

I can't believe how much you have blossomed in the past week. You have taken off with walking and each day I see your confidence grow. Just when I thought I would be holding you forever, you got up on those two feet and went exploring with a new pair of eyes.  I look at your face and see how proud you are of yourself. I am proud too. Today in the car you looked different to me. No more baby. You are turning into a little toddler. Watching you grow into a healthy boy is nothing but a pure delight for me. Your changes in the last few weeks have been remarkable. 

I LOVE Harleys!

Today was an almost perfect day. Sunny and 81 degrees. Not a weekend, but a Wednesday, so we are halfway there. But I must start off by letting you know that I have an absolute love for Harleys. I like all motorcycles just for the sake of being a motorcycle. But that came much later in life. Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved Harleys. Not like them. Not think that they are cool or hot. LOVE them. Anyone who knows me, especially when I was a child and teenager, knows this. It all started at the lake. Everything seems to go back to the lake. But that is a different post for another day. I was 6 or 7, at the lake one summer night. I was with my parents in a store at the Bagnell Dam Strip. I could not find them in the store so I went outside to look for them. I still could not find them so I sat down on the ground and whimpered or cried or something. A big, burly Hell's Angel on a Fat Boy came by and asked what was wrong. I knew I should not talk to him. Not only was he a stranger, he was downright scary looking. Long hair, long beard, tattoos everywhere and he wore lots of leather with skulls and flames and whatever else that seemed scary to a small child. I guess I told him I was lost, I don't remember. Before I knew it, I was on the back of his motorcycle going up and down the strip. He was nice and I wanted to believe him, but we are taught not to trust strangers so I thought I must be getting kidnapped. By the time we got back up to the top of the strip, my parents were looking outside for me. They had never left the store! He stopped the motorcycle, told my parents the story and they all talked for a few minutes and he was on his way. I bet that man has no idea what he started!
Ever since then, I have wanted a Harley. Now, please hear me. I want a Harley. Many women love Harleys. They love men with Harleys. That is why big, ugly men on Harleys get hot chicks. But me, I love the motorcycle. When I was younger it was almost an obsession. I would go around and squeal like a crazy person when I saw any kind of Harley. I would kiss every bike I passed right on the gas tank. I would hop on a Harley with anyone just to be on a Harley. I had all kinds of Harley gear. As I have gotten older, I have matured on that somewhat. A little. I now have models I like more than others. I'm not much for the Sportsters or the big, Road Kings. I like the Softtails the best. I have had the chance to buy a Harley twice. It didn't happen. Several years ago I went to Sturgis with some friends. Several people died on their bikes that year. A year later I had my first child. My love lessened some. I got kind of wimpy. But it is slowly coming back. I am considering for the first time to buy a little Yamaha or Suzuki first. But I probably won't. People get starter cars, starter homes, starter diamonds and even starter wives or husbands. So why not a starter motorcycle? I could handle any other starter. Maybe not the spouse part, but anything else. But I don't think I will do that with a motorcycle either. It has to be a Harley. I always said I would own a Harley even if I can't ride it. So even if I have to wait until I am 80 to purchase one, I will.
That long story brings me to this afternoon. Today was MY first day of Spring. There were Harleys everywhere. I experienced an afternoon of being out making visits with clients. Everywhere I went I heard the sweet sound of the roar of a Harley. It let me know that summer is almost here. This is why Harley owners don't need therapy. Now I have a smile on my face that has lasted all afternoon.

Flying High

Today was an average, rainy, cold Thursday. I went to work like any other day. But for some reason, I was in the greatest mood. I worked out 3 times today. My jeans are loose. Nothing but great music on the radio. My parallel parking job was perfect. I went out walking/running tonight and the air smelled like a cold, Fall night. I am looking forward to Summer but that smell made me think about getting all snuggled up in a sleeping bag and go camping. Agh. Today was a really, great day!

My First Post

Agh.

Here goes! I am embarking on a new chapter in my life. Part of this new chapter is starting this blog. I am somewhat scared of this. Let me start by saying that I have kept a journal for twenty four of my thirty-two years on this earth. Yep. Started when I was 8. Writing is not new to me. It is incredibly therapeutic. Sometimes I am surprised that I did not make it my career. But writing my personal thoughts down for others to see is new. I don't think I would have ever done this. This was not something I desired to do. But these are new times. I have a couple of close friends who have had blogs for years. I follow them occasionally. I have recently started to follow some blogs by some people that have unexpectedly come into my life. I have been inspired to start this. They say things happen for a reason. So here is to my new chapter!

I have been blessed with the life that I live. I am happy and I feel lucky. I am happily married to a wonderful man and I have two of the cutest kids around. I am surrounded by great friends and  a supportive extended family.  I can't help but feel a little guilty for feeling the way I do which brought me to this new chapter.

I will start by saying that I am a very independent person.  I left my parent's home at the age of seventeen to attend college 14 hours away. I graduated and then moved home briefly and then moved to my own home. Soon after I moved several hours away. I have been here since. But now I am married with small children. As I said before, my husband is wonderful. Being married has been great. Marriage takes a lot of work.  I can say that it has been more fulfilling than I ever imagined.  My children are the world to me. But I can't deny that I feel like I have lost my identity somewhat. I don't even stay home with my kids. I have a full time job and I am able to interact with other adults on a daily basis. But somewhere along the way in the last four years, I feel like someone's mom and not me anymore.  I love being a mom, I just want that to be a part of me and not all of me. I guess I am selfish that way but it is honestly how I feel. Perhaps it is because my children are small and need me all of the time. I went from having my own life to having two little people who depend on me for everything. I still carry my youngest a lot. I change diapers, wipe rear ends and it wasn't that long ago that I was up many times a night nursing a baby. So it is ironic that the two little people who I adore so much and provide me with countless stories and memories are the same two little people that have brought me to this blog.  I am on my personal journey to find myself again. This blog is part of this journey.