Instagram...and beyond

I joined twitter. What a strange place. I haven't been able figure it out.

Bare in mind, I grew up in the birth of the wide spread internet. I remember that god awful squealing sound as I impatiently waited for it to connect before my parents demanded the use of the phone line.  I had a blackberry before it was cool. I have an Ipad 2. I am not opposed to social media, I stay reasonably updated with my technology.

But twitter...its like the 'and beyond' section of Bed, bath and beyond. I have enjoyed the news aspects and keeping up some of my favorite sites like The Chive and Buzzfeed. (check out The Chive...its a pretty awesome place)
But everything else. The conversation with celebrities, like the recent EL James disaster have been entertaining but I still see it as pointless.  I am just not sure I can keep my twenty one followers, most of whom I assume are spam accounts, updated with my every move. 'baby pooped three times, the third time smelled like orange juice' thats a pretty exciting day for me. Who wants to read that?

But Instagram...I was sure I would be lost here too. I was sure I would be just as annoyed with the whole thing. I was sure it would confuse me why countless images of peoples of dinners were fascinating.

And for a few days I was, then after I figured out the hashtag thing. (I thought I was over doing it with four hashtags..,Oh, how I was very very wrong.)  I started to explore instagram and I was entranced by what I had forgotten.

With the birth of each child I was sucked into their world and my whole world was them. And I was okay with that. It wasn't an easy life and their father and I were having a difficult time (I am sure at some point I go into all of that in more detail) but I was confident that we would work it out and this was a particularly rough patch that was affected by events going on around us we had no control over, mainly being the death of my beloved mother in law.

Something that is still difficult for me to discuss, so not now.

I was barely aware of anything else. And then instagram and this thing started to happen. I became aware of the world around me. It wasn't just tasty food and steaming cups of coffee, although there were plenty of those, and artfully done. I could appreciate that.

There was also, trees, flowers, mountains, trails and people. People out experiencing life and their own world around them. I suddenly realized. I am not attached. I am not attached to a man who used me as a surrogate mother. (She was truly a wonderful and amazing woman, who had the capacity to love unmatched by anyone except for my oldest to whom she passed on that capacity, but she also did everything for him...) And while I still have my beautiful babes most of the time, but for two days, two whole days and nights, I don't. I am unattached. I have the freedom to go and experience and step out into the world and see the sights it has to behold, smell the fresh rain in an ancient forest. I can eat in a restaurant that doesn't have macaroni and cheese on the menu. I can enjoy a quiet, but more importantly, hot cup of coffee.

I can go out, I can go do, I can. It's a nice feeling, it is a freeing feeling. It is a high that I hope I never come down from.

Now I just have to figure out how to pay for it...

This Girl's lazy dinner

I was supposed to make leftover tonight. But I didn't. My girlfriend had the brilliant idea of going on a walk today. Which is something we normally do, but its sooo hot. I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay home, play with the baby, take a nap, make some jewelry or really just do nothing at all.
Alas, my friend is a determined little bugger, so we went.
It was pretty, and shaded. But still sooooo hot.

 The blackberry bushes were in full bloom. The harvest will be bountiful this year, and I could care less. Its too hot.

When I got home, sweaty, stinky and gross, I went to pay homage to the air conditioner and suddenly I was hit with a wave of hunger. I needed to eat and I needed to eat now.

You don't know ravenous hunger until you've breastfed a baby. There is a difference between pregnancy hunger and breastfeeding hunger. If at any point during this angry zombie like state you get between me and food...you don't even want to know.

It was too hot to turn on the burner and heat leftover spaghetti, plus that required a certain amount of effort I was not willing to devote to my dinner.
So I went to an old stand by.

 Good old Jif Peanut butter, Zoi vanilla Greek yogurt (the one with all the fatty goodness in it) and a banana. Sadly this banana was a little too ripe.
"A little too ripe" you say, astonished. "Why its hardly just turned yellow!"
Why yes, you are correct. It has hardly just turned yellow, and that's too ripe. Green! I love Green Bananas! They are firm, they are strong, they are hard...get your mind out of the gutter.
Anyway, begrudgingly I survived without a green banana.

Now what I do with it bewilders my father. He thinks its pretty uncouth and will cringe at me every time I sit down with my little bowl of goodness. And it's not just the green banana thing that I have but how I put it all together.

 Place desired amount of yogurt into the bowl.

Scrape the bottom of the peanut butter jar and collect desired amount of peanut butter.

When there are two kids eating solid foods and three adults, there is always scraping the bottom of the peanut butter jar. 

Add peanut butter to your bowl...and mix.

It looks like this. Yummy!

Buy wait, there's more!

Add the banana! 

I meant to take a pretty picture of the banana all sliced on top, but I was hungry and I began to eat. Nom, nom, nom. 

Oh yeah...that's the stuff...

I am sure there is someone who could go off on the healthfulness of this dinner, one way or another. 

I like it cause its tasty, it fills me up and no heat required. 

Its a lazy dinner for a hot and lazy day. I feel better now, full and happy and very very sleepy. *yawn*stretch*

 But the baby is asleep and there is work to be done...

This Girls New World

So here it is: I am a suddenly single mother of three. Twelve years of marriage, done. I have three beautiful, vivacious, loud, busy, girls who can suck the souls out of the most experienced parent. They are great, really, I love them, but some days...
I am starting a new life, entering a new world. And despite the swirling vortex of catch 22's I have chosen to rise above the anger, complications and the weight of being a single mother. I have chosen to move on and be me. Me. All of me. Something I haven't been in a very long time.
I am not going to let standing on the edge of a new and terrifying horizon scare me back into the cave.
I am going to make my own way. I have stepped out into the world and I will carve my own path up the mountain. I will do it under my own steam.
So who am I?
I am a woman. I am an American. I have the vocabulary of a well educated sailor. I am self taught, pretty much everything. Youtube and I are in a deep and involved relationship. We cuddle together, late into the night, sharing secrets. Don't even try to get between us.
I can sew, crochet, read, write and bake.
I am going to take that most American part of me and make my own money. I will work hard, I will survive. I will make a new life and achieve my dreams, fulfill my bucket list and I will share it all right here. The ups and downs. The successes and the failures. I will rant and rave. I will create and sell.

But most important, I will move on. Me, my girls and my dog. See, isn't he cute! How could you not love this guy?