Forever and Never

I can't even tell you how long it has been since I have been to one of my favorite places in Nebraska, and no it is not a favorite because of the geography or the specific people there. It's a favorite for the atmosphere, the sheer number of hours I spent working, thinking, and writing here in my early 20's (because uttering a phrase like that doesn't instantly age a person or anything), and yes - for the coffee.

This morning, I got to spend a carefree morning, as much time as I wanted, at my beloved, The Coffee House in Lincoln.

I was so pleased! And also so surprised by how much has changed in the undeterminable amount of time since I was here last. The CoHo has seen numerable shifts in decor, seating, and paint colors (and even front doors) since I first started coming here as a sophomore in college (yes, friends and I would drive in from Crete just to spend evenings here working and studying; then, in grad school, I was also a frequent face but that makes more sense for a UNL student), but something about this morning feels quite different. Gone are the plethora of mismatched chairs and wild displays of local art (although based on hanging wires and hooks, that might still happen on occasion, just not currently), and the back of the coffee bar is exposed in new ways, to me, at least. Yet the same glass mugs (and super delicious mochas), eclectic music in the background, and unique cast of characters filling the tables and line at the counter as well as those behind it, are enough to tell me I am here. I am in one of my sacred spaces.

I get it. It's a coffee house (So not true. It is THE Coffee House, but I digress). Maybe it shouldn't be such a big deal; but being here, by myself, on a quiet and drizzle-filled Saturday morning, with nothing but time to think, write, and enjoy my coffee, is an extremely rare gift.

Although I've had time away from the home front in the last year, none of that has been terribly chill. In fact, the only time I've been away has been for weeks/weekends filled to the brim with trainings. One might think going to a yoga training would be a relaxed, Zen-ed out sort of vacation but those weeks/weekends are always super intense, physically and emotionally, so no. No down time away in a very long time.

But this weekend I am away, for the first time since Mr. Lincoln's arrival, with Ben, and since he is currently finishing up a morning of meetings at a conference he's attending before we get to ride off into the sunset of actual, honest-to-goodness adult time sans Littles for the rest of the afternoon and tonight, I have time and space and anywhere in downtown Lincoln I want to walk to spend my morning. Naturally I would come here.

How perfect that one of my favorite places, a place I consider to be part of myself even if I haven't been here since a child or two ago came into my life, can feel totally different and completely the same. I can't think of a better analogy for adulthood and parenthood and the growth we are sometimes blessed enough to experience in this life. Like my dear CoHo, I have changed since my last visit. I look different on the outside and some internal changes have been made, too. But at my center, like this place, I'm still me. Same heart, same core. Forever seeking, forever expanding but always striving to be my best, most authentic self. Embracing what is Now. Both forever and never still.

Life in flux. There really is no other way. And with good coffee, quiet spaces, and a little time every now and then to think, all is indeed well.

What about you? What places have become spaces where you can return, sometimes after years, and still find yourself in just the right spot?

No Such Thing as "Alone"

Many times, in many ways, I have found myself saying, of motherhood in particular, that isolation is the worst. To fall into a line of thinking that includes separation or apartness, to begin to believe that nobody else out there has ever been in your shoes, could possibly ever understand what you're going through, is a scary place to be - but it has nothing do with just parenthood. This is life; and for some, it is a struggle that they will carry more heavily and for more time than others.

The idea of isolation has been rattling around in my head for some time now. In the last year it has prompted me to write posts that have broken silences, shared my truths, and declared mottos. But here I am again, still ruminating, still itching in my brain and in my hands to write about this particular topic.

Why?

Because I continue to see instances of people who feel isolated and do not speak up and I want to encourage them to think differently. Because I also see others who share their pain or their shame and I want to commend them for their bravery. Because I have been at both ends of that spectrum. Because isolation is something that can creep in slowly or pop up suddenly, even when you think you have been down this road, fought this battle, buried this hatchet and any other possible cliche you can think of to express the act of moving on from the past and putting old hurts to rest. Because isolation is hurt. At least in my world. Nothing prompts me to feel more desolate or desperate than to feel like I have nowhere to turn and no one to listen. Or that I do not have the freedom to share certain parts of myself or my experiences. In other words, feeling cut off from others, introvert that I may be, cuts quickly to my core. Even when my rational, logical brain tells me, of course you have places to turn, isolation can still swoop in and take over. And it is still, always the worst.

Learning to see beyond these moments of "I'm the only one." and "Who can I talk to?" may in fact be a life-long process, but it is one I know, also down to my core, that is worth continuing. Again, finding those trusted advisors and the people who are YOUR people can take time as well as trial and error. Just because moments of doubt or hurt or aloneness suddenly appear (or reappear) does not mean all past work is wasted. There are people out there who will get it, who will listen, who will in fact give care to your heart just as you would do for theirs. There are people who have been before or currently are going through what you now face. Always. We just need to remember that speaking up and connecting with others are worthy causes, even when doing so is scary as hell.

If your heart is something you guard closely (I do not blame you one bit for this; I do the same), keep searching. Keep reaching out. Keep being brave as you dare to find those who will not isolate you because in no one thing are you ever truly alone.

And on that serious note, I leave you with this - giraffe friends. Because they make my heart happy and even in that, I'm guessing I'm not the only one.

Field of Dreams?

Lately the hubs and I have been just terrible about staying up late at night. For him it is grading papers from school and the start of baseball season. For me it is the reading, reading, reading quest of my ever-present book list and, on some nights, the mountains of dishes and/or laundry that I've put off for days and finally have to deal with because, you know, people who don't live here are coming to my house the next day and that's about the only thing some weeks that gets me to attack said mountains.

In case you were wondering, the children still get up way too early every day. School also means B & HD have to be out the door bright and early, so why we think staying up late, for any reason, is a good idea is really lost on me. Especially today when I have a jam-packed schedule of teaching but we thought it would be wise to stay up past midnight last night at which point my brain was really on GO! Mode and I should have just kept reading my book because it had to have been close to 2 a.m. before I was finally asleep. Am I rambling? Am I awake? Can't be sure at this point in the day.

All of this is to say, I might be a little out of sorts right now. Ben, too. But we both agreed this morning that we'd have to dig deep today and not let our tiredness turn into pure crankiness, and certainly not directed at the children who would probably prefer us to be more well rested, too (although, if that were really the case, they could also try this fun thing called sleeping in on the weekends. I hear it is great.). Tired and potentially cranky-making factors all considered, we are still at so far, so good for the day. Granted, we've both been caffeinated and were probably counting down the hours until bedtime all day long, but even with self-inflicted sleep deprivation, the Welschies pulled out a pretty good day, in part because we've all been outside, enjoying the fresh, warm air that Spring seems to have (finally) brought for keeps.  Geez - the Faulknerian sentences again. It's like I'm back in Senior Sem at Doane again!

Of course, because this is Nebraska, it was windy again today which kept us close to home this morning, but this afternoon I decided to declare my own little Walk to Work Day which I decided would also be the jumpstart of regular walking that I hope to do from now until the end of my pregnancy. Yoga is awesome, as always, for my body and soul, but since I can't quite do everything I'd like to on the mat right now, I need another way to work and release tension from my physical and emotional states. After today's kick-off, I would say Mission Accomplished, on both accounts.

Since our house is a little over a mile-ish from the studio, I thought walking myself down prior to teaching my second class of the day (prenatal) would be a great idea; the bonus of there being Family Yoga today (i.e. B & the kids would be joining me later and I could catch a ride home) helped. Even with walking into a direct, sometimes rather strong wind, the whole way was enjoyable. It felt good to get moving like that and just be with the thoughts in my head. No music. No phone. No talking. (no books!) I need more of that.

After set up and prep for class, I settled in at the front desk only to realize ten minutes later that no one was coming to join me. This has happened once before since the start of my prenatal class and it just goes to show that even in a town the size of Hastings, getting the word out about a new opportunity can be tricky, especially when said opportunity is directed at such a niche, target audience. I waited a bit longer just to see if any mamas-to-be would breeze in late, but when it was clear I really was on my own for the day, I packed up my things and decided to walk home. If I'd had a book to read, I probably would have stayed there and waited for my next class to start but since The Bump and I enjoyed the walk down, I figured we'd enjoy the walk home, too.

About half-way back, I was trucking along thinking about all the things I could say after surprising my husband by turning up back at home already, some of which included a line of "What am I doing wrong? Why aren't people coming to class?" questions when I quickly realized I needed to stop. Not walking, but that kind of thinking, for sure.

Attendance at a class, whether it is full or a goose egg, is not all about me. There are so many reasons why individuals choose to go to a yoga class (or any fitness class) and while instructor preferences/styles may play a role for some, I know in the end I can only control myself and my actions; I am not powerful enough to control others. And that's a good thing. I don't want to carry that much weight on my shoulders or feel that sort of pressure. I do want to bring my best and strongest offering to each class I teach (yes, even on days after nights that were too late and too short), because that's what I can do - that's what I can control. I can also take ownership of my attitude and response to both full and goose egg days, knowing that so long as I keep showing up, so will others, and again, it is about them, not me.

It was a totally a If-You-Build-It-They-Will-Come-sort-of-pep-talk-to-myself moment.

Before I had gone another block, a helicopter suddenly came into view. It was headed for the helipad at Mary Lanning which I happened to be walking by at that exact time. Along with the intensity of sound that accompanied the chopper, came a huge wave of pregnant-lady-emotions that startled me more than anything. I'm always one to say a quick prayer in my head when I hear sirens (I figure that those at both ends, receiving and giving, need all the good thoughts and well wishes they can get and have been doing this for most of my adult life), and having lived near enough to ML for long enough, I now do the same whenever I hear helicopters, too. Today had to be a first, though, of having one come in to land directly over top of me. Among the rush of thoughts that went through my mind were: "Holy crap. That is scary-loud noise."; "What if that thing is flying in for somebody I know?!"; "I need to call everyone I love and tell them what they mean to me!" (which, for the record, I did not do).

OK. Laugh if you like, because those are some pretty dramatic reactions (may I refer you back to the aforementioned pregnant-lady emotions and lack of sleep???), but my eyes welled up with tears and my throat got super tight as watching the helicopter go over head instantly put everything about the day into perspective. I am blessed that my family has never needed such medical attention. I am blessed to live in a place where I can walk to work without constant fear of fights or gunfire. I am blessed to do work that fills my soul and continues to teach me about life, even when the days do not go as planned. I am blessed.

Thankfully I also had a handful more blocks to go so I could let my weepies and sniffles come and go before I had to take off my sunglasses and talk to other people. The walk gave me just the right amount of perspective, not to mention exercise, and big dose of gratitude. Not bad for a day of running on just four-ish hours of sleep.

Post Script: Day Two of Walking Mama

Day Two after a crappy night of sleep is usually my worst. I'm at my most sluggish, most cranky. Today should have been that day. It doubly should have been that day (wait, triple, because Hi, Monday) as Ben has been gone all evening/for part of the night yet for parent/teacher conferences. PTC nights always mean long days for me because not only am I running herd on the herd all day by myself, but I then have to do supper and bedtime for all three solo, too [to be a single parent? I cannot imagine.]. Because bedtime is so not my thing, these nights sometimes feel extra tedious, especially if I am on a Day Two of Tired.

In today's case, I am grateful for PTC and the rest of the busy week that lies ahead. Because of our hectic schedule this week, I looked in advance for a babysitter who could come today and relieve me for a bit so I could in fact charge through a long day/evening and still have something left for the rest of the week, too. That this foresight happened to help on a Day Two? Well, as Ben says, sometimes it is better to be lucky than good.

Luck also came my way with today's picture perfect spring day weather. Warm sun, gentle breeze, gorgeous smelling trees (although most are a bit overpowering for my pregnant super sense of smell) - the day was begging for a walk. And so, once the sitter arrived and was ready to take on the kids for a bit, I left to go for a walk around the park. Again, no music, no distractions. Just walking and enjoying and even running into a friend on the way home from picking up her own Little from school which was such a lovely bonus - it was all fabulous.

As for the rest of the evening? Well, we spent some time in the yard, ate supper, played a bit more outside (perhaps not the best idea for Lincoln who was super mad at me for then making him come in to get ready for bed), and then did the whole good night thing with very little drama. No one yelled, screamed, or cried. Not even me. ;) Once again, walking saves the day.

Everybody Knows My Name?

As a Jennifer born in the 1980s, I had no shortage of name sharing/confusion as a kid. Not that my name itself was confusing, but identifying which Jennifer I was always included my last initial which was fine. It was what it was and became exactly why 27 Jennifers by Mike Doughty has been a beloved song of mine for years:

Jenny M. That was me. Until 6th grade (or was it 5th? - c.r.a.p. I am getting old if I can't remember that detail) when a bunch of us Jennifers of Lincoln Elementary banded together and decided to take charge. We would all be a different version (spelling) of Jenny and it just so happened that I ended up with the "I" on the end of mine instead of the "Y" and my parents totally went with it (unlike some friends who tried for more, um, unique spellings and were totally denied by their parental units, or maybe just got sick of the change in time and went back to Jenny ___). Me? I ran with this new approach to my name and never looked back. And I know it is a wee bit silly because you can't hear a darn bit of difference when you say "Jenni" versus "Jenny" but I can definitely tell you which one looks like my name and which one does not when I see it written.

Perhaps this whole name game from my youth is adding to the confusion I feel now as a parent because I am extremely befuddled as to why my children have decided to call me by completely different names. Maybe other moms out there don't really care what their kids call them or don't care if the name is constantly changing. But to me, my mom name is Mama. Ben and I started calling me that from the very beginning with Harrison and while HD will throw a Mom my way every now and then, we're 5.5 years into knowing me as Mama. Except Raegan, for well over a year, has been calling me Mommy and I just don't get it. I never refer to myself this way and like Jenny-with-a-"y" it sounds funny to me to hear myself referenced as such. I won't even bother asking if my response to this whole situation is normal because my guess is no, it's not - I've just picked something weird to get hung up on, but actually, that's my point.

After months of (semi-passive-aggressive?) attempts to correct RL (never telling her she is wrong but referring to myself in third person a LOT in hopes of showing her the light but obviously failing), I've decided to let it go. If Baby Girl wants to call me Mommy nine times out of ten, then that is what she's going to call me. It probably makes sense, actually, that my kids would have different names for me because while I am a mother to all of them, our individual relationships are unique and what they need from me on a daily basis is never the same.

So Mama/Mommy/Ma (which is where Linky is currently with a name for me)? They all work. They all represent the role I so gratefully get to play in the lives of these growing, learning, always going individuals and I am honored to be that person to each of them, no matter what they call me. Well, not Hey, You!. That version (and life with teens) is probably coming sooner than I think, but whatever mom name(s) the children decide upon as they grow is going to have to start with an "M" - I'm too much of an English Major to let all rules and convention slide!

An oldie but a goodie: "Mommy" and her Mini. 

Women Need Women

This morning at MOPS, our group heard ideas, answers, and advice from two of our Mentor Moms - women who have moved to the next stage of parenting (have adult children) and who can come to meetings to do any number of tasks which include listening, holding babies, and sharing their own wisdom from the Been There/Done That perspective. I've had the joy of being paired with women truly worthy of the title Mentor in the past and it was so good this morning to hear what they had to say about everything from how to handle tantrums to the Great Holiday Divide (totally a different subject/blog post, but wow. Good stuff and good discussion). But of everything that we talked about at this morning's meeting, it was these three words said by a member of the Mentor panel that jumped up and grabbed my heart: women need women. 

Have you ever heard anything more true? I don't know that I have, with the exception of a longer version of the very same concept that a friend shared online a few months ago. There's no way I can possibly paraphrase her and do her ideas justice, so I give to you the post itself:

"Ladies: Always surround yourself with women who let you be yourself. If you feel inferior around your people, they are not your people. If you dress differently, sit quit when you normally have something to say, feel bored, feel icky...You run like hell from these women. Although we are SUPPOSED to belong to each other, there are some who do not want you to belong. And my loves, it's not you. It's in their heart. Your women will tell you when you're wrong, they will hear your cries, they will shake you awake, they will call you beautiful. If you cannot share your deepest secrets with your women, they are not your women. If they laugh at you when you get a crazy idea, they are not your women. If they let you run around acting like a complete wench, they are not your women. Your best friends will see every part of you. They will invest in you, and you invest in them. A friendship deserves honesty and rawness and hurt and laughter. If you cannot tell your friend she hurt you, she's not your friend. If you pick up the phone and there's nothing to talk about, hang up the phone. She's not your woman. Our friendship to one another is important. Choose wisely. And when you get strong, you pull others in so they can belong, too." 

Isn't that spot on the best thing ever for a woman to write/believe/do? I think so, and I shared it on Facebook right after I originally read it because, seriously people, at some point we deserve to leave middle school. There is no reason we have to remain stuck in the hormonal hell of young adolescence, constantly trying to win the love and affection of others. Wondering if they like us. If we are good enough. We are good enough. But we need each other and if we can't be good to each other, we need to move on. That is the most simple and most pure way I can describe what it means to find your tribe, the women you need and who need you in return.

Two of my favorite writers, Glennon from Momastery and Patti Digh (of Life is a Verb fame), both write on this idea of tribes and what it means to have one. They both believe it is vital to have people in your life who can in fact, be your people. Your tribe might be members of your family or friends you have known forever, or maybe it is someone you just meet at the grocery store last week. Your tribe consists of those who know you, get you, and love you all the same. And sometimes it is really freaking hard to find these souls.

A few years ago, reading or having someone tell me I needed a tribe would have made me burst into tears. OK, it doesn't take much to do that, but this would have been the ugly cry sort of tears because in early motherhood I felt isolated and withdrawn way more than I felt connected, seen, or heard. It doesn't help that I am huge introvert (aren't most people who love to write?) and the thought of forcing myself to be social in order to meet women who could be my BFFs was terrifying. I mean, no pressure, right?!

Slowly but surely, though, I have made progress in the whole leave-your-house/make-some-friends journey.  This has meant I've had to both accept offers from others when given and extend invitations of my own to new people I meet or sometimes to old acquaintances I want to know better (and truth, all of the above can be out of my comfort zone). Over the last few years, I have met some interesting women. Some amazing. Some who came into my circle, my tribe, and stayed close. And some who came in for a time and then moved on, because let's face it,  once you get up the courage to put yourself out there to define your tribe, actually recognizing those who know, get, and love you all the same sometimes takes time. Being vulnerable and taking that time, though, are vital because women need women.

None of us were meant to go this road alone, whether we are SAHMs, working moms, pet parents, or "just" women (there is nothing "just" about being a woman or a person for that matter - it's all pretty freaking challenging from what I can see). We need each other to listen, see, accept, support, love, nurture, challenge, and need us. I believe you can be the most independent and confident person in the world and you will still need a tribe of a few who can be and do these things for you because without connection, what is the point? For some people, this support might take the shape of a spouse or significant other. I have an amazing one of those and I tell you honestly, I still need a tribe. My husband knows me, gets me, and loves me all the same, but without friends who can do the same, my heart is not as full as it could be. This is why I continue to put myself out there, to make connections with other women as I make my way (sometimes striding, sometimes stumbling) through this world. It is the grace and love I can give to these women and that which I receive in return that makes the trying and trying again so very much worth it.

No woman alone. There are those out there who deserve a spot in your tribe. Those who know, get, and love you all the same.

Backslide

Within six hours of my last post, at the start of last week, my Lenten Promise  was clearly shot. It's hard to commit to a daily yoga practice, even just for 10-15 minutes a day, when you can't breathe or stop blowing your nose for days, and have a fever for over 48 hours straight. Just getting through Tuesday through Thursday of last week was a challenge and that was without even leaving my house once in that time span. So no, no yoga for me last week (I even missed multiple days of teaching which has been very rare since I began last fall), because once I got my feet back on the ground, it was all I could do to keep up with getting my house back in functioning shape and food on the table and all that other maternal/spousal/adult stuff I am expected to do in this world.

Now it is Wednesday, two weeks beyond Ash Wednesday, and I haven't done any of my own practice in eight or nine days (Math. Blergh.) - not exactly a shinning start to 40 Days of Yoga. I can feel it, too, because whereas at the time of my last post I was feeling pretty good (was totally doing my best to ignore warning signs of impending doom in my sinuses), I am back to noticing the not-so-good in both my body and my mood. Back and hips? Stiff and creaky. Mind and attitude? Wee-bit sour and cranky.

At least I have an immediate answer and fix to this. I just have to step up and really recommit because this is a big week (big month, actually) of taking on some extra classes to teach and when you top that with the hubbub of activity we have going on this March, it's going to be April and Easter before we know it, and I do not want to get lost in the whirlwind. I know myself well enough to know that this much is true:

I cannot let my teaching schedule (or social calendar, etc.) get in the way here. Somehow I've also got to find a way to get past The Naps which is what I'm calling my No.1 pregnancy indicator (symptom seems like a poor word choice, but you get my drift) (and truth, it's probably No.2 because, let's face it, CrankyPants is my No.1) these days. I am so freaking tired all day long that I have been falling asleep on the couch even when the kids are playing - loudly - right in front of me. These bizarre cat naps do not actually result in great rest and often I wake up from them feeling super groggy and downright confused at times, but it's like I can't help it.

A baby in the belly means I don't sleep well at night and apparently my body has decided that it's going to make up for that deficit during the day, whether I intend to or not. And somedays this happens two or three times! Good practice for when Baby arrives? Maybe, except for that whole supposed-to-be-parenting-the-other-children gig I've got going on....

Unless I relinquish full control to PBS (and there's no way that works for a peanut LT's age), this current approach just isn't going to work. Here's hoping instead that the whole Second Trimester Energy Boost (it should totally be a proper noun) comes SOON!

Promises, Promises

On Ash Wednesday, a friend happened to ask in a group message if I (and the others in the convo, obviously) had any Lenten promises to share. I'll be honest, I was stumped. I mean, I knew Lent was beginning and all that but giving up something for Lent has never been a big part of my religious or spiritual life. Sure, I've given up stuff in the past in high school and college, but mainly because my friends were too, not because I was really committing it to anything higher. So when several of us responded that we in fact did not have any good ideas of what to give up this year, the friend who posed the original question then said the best thing - the exact right thing I needed to hear, actually - to explain her approach to Lent.

My wise friend explained that it doesn't have to be giving up something but rather a Lenten promise can be about changing something to help motivate that same change in behavior or attitude later, post-Lent. Of course this makes total sense and perhaps you already understand Lent in this way, but something about her description just clicked for me.

In fact, let's just say the whole exchange was a little Light Bulb moment for me.

Let me also be clear that lately I have been struggling. Struggling a lot, actually, with things like anger and parental patience and just my attitudes in general. Remember the recent "Regression" blog post? These are all things that I have made leaps and bounds with in terms of progress since I began therapy and yoga the fall after Linky was born. Not that I suddenly became this perfectly happy and eternally blissed out person, but major progress to a calmer, more realistic, and overall happier me? Yes. Yes. And YES.

And then I got pregnant. Laugh or scoff if you want, and while it is not entirely fair to attribute blame Baby No.4 for my backsliding as of late, said babe is going to bear some of the weight here. For one thing, pregnancy makes me not sleep. From the first trimester on, my sleep is a wreck and as a person who has dealt with some serious sleep deprivation over the years (and who just started to make progress during the second half of the previous year), being back in the land of little sleep is scary. I know what little-to-no sleep does to me and my general outlook on life, because my short fuse and quick mouth start to take over and it is no fun for anyone in my house. Fortunately, this time, I can look at my poor sleep as temporary. Yes, I am likely going to be tired from now until Baby arrives and then hella tired for some time after that, but eventually I'll get back on track. TiredCrankyMommy will not exist forever, or at least not for such an extended period of time.

Another thing Baby No.4 has contributed to, sort of/kind of, is my other coping skill beyond sleep which is, of course, my yoga practice. Now Baby's role here is really just in regards to my energy level. I haven't been to a regular class at the studio since early January because I just don't have the stamina to keep up with a mainstream 60-minute class right now. I also quit going because before people knew I was pregnant, I did not want to draw attention to the fact that I was making certain modifications that would look really strange for a capable teacher to be making. Not that I owe others an explanation, but it all felt weird, so I backed off the public class scene.

All of this leads me to the point where I take the rest of responsibility for losing touch with my yoga practice because I dropped the ball. Totally. Instead of hopping online to use a subscription site like yogaglo to support my home practice or putting on the prenatal yoga DVD I have or just applying the ding-dang knowledge I have as a certified prenatal yoga instructor (sheesh), I quit doing any practice outside of my teaching. For almost two months now I have chosen to go without the one activity that I know works. Not the best choice.

So yes, a light bulb pretty much exploded in my brain when my friend shared the idea of approaching Lent as a change in behavior/attitude. I needed both, and of course my answer to both was get.on.the.mat! Ever seen the hashtag #yogaeverydamnday ??  I sure have and it also popped in my head at the same time the light bulb blew up. 40 days of yoga. That became my Lenten promise. And nothing grand or super physical, either. I said if I could just do 10 minutes a day, I'd probably feel a lot better. And (yay, me!) I was right.

Since making my promise, I have done 10-15 minutes each day but not counting anything that includes when I'm teaching. That's teaching, not practicing. And the whole thing has been great. I feel like I have more space in my own body (always a bonus during pregnancy since the little peanut seems to instantly take up a lot of room) and I am dealing more appropriately with kid meltdowns and general shenanigans which keeps my head space in a much better place than TiredCrankyMommy's.

Now there was Saturday night when I got caught up reading a book and kind of forgot my yoga until I was in bed and instead of getting up opted to do some breathwork until I fell asleep, but I'm still counting it. Actually, breathwork and quieting my mind are probably even more important than a physical practice for me right now because the breath and the mind go hand in hand, so when one races, so too does the other, so yes - it totally counts and it's probably going to happen again. And that's OK! So long as I keep going, doing my little bits here and there every blessed day so I can keep clearing the fog in my brain and releasing the anger and frustration from my system (physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual) I'll be making such a positive step with my little Lenten promise. Because I know, for me, this works, and getting back to something that works for me - that allows me to stay me and stay the best version of me, is as crucial now as it has ever been.

Belly Up

Yesterday was an exciting day; it marked 12 weeks of Baby No.4 (who checked out wiggly - are you surprised?- and awesome at my OB appt. on Thursday) which in turn marked the start of said babe's Belly Watch. It is also the start of me doing some serious work on myself (attitudes/tendencies of thought) and being, in my own way, extremely brave when it comes to my issues with body/self perception.

I have been working on the body image stuff for a while now and have written about it from time to time on the blog, but right now everything feels heightened (probably because it is by all these crazy pregnancy hormones racing through my body right now). I want so very much to be okay with my size and shape, and you would think that being pregnant would be some sort of free pass on all that, but that's never been the case for me. I may have taken a stomach exposing picture of weeks 12-40(ish) of each baby but that does not mean it has been easy for me to do or share.

Last time, with Lincoln, I spent a lot of time feeling and being very self-critical of how I looked, and worse, very susceptible to the comments of others, which as we all know, come without invitation and usually without any sort of filter, either. I also felt a growing (pun intended) anxiety over potential comparison, both of my own belly to that of other mamas-to-be, and to myself as well. I was so busy wondering if people might think I looked fat or awful or waaaay bigger than ever before that I missed an opportunity to just enjoy the miracle of growing a person and all that physically accompanies such work.

So why do it again if it caused so much anguish in the past? It's not like Baby No.4 is really going to care if his/her bump was ever displayed on Mama's Facebook page, right? Well probably not, but right now this ventures feels as much about me as it does Baby. This is about finding that place of comfort and acceptance in my own skin, no matter how big my belly gets, and trust me, it's much bigger at 12 weeks than ever before, but see? There's that icky little comparison game again that I've got to stop doing. There are a handful (and more) reasons why I might be bigger at this point this time around than ever before. But much as I can rationalize it, it still doesn't matter if I can't accept it, and that's why I will be doing a fourth public belly watch - because I want public accountability of embracing and loving whatever comes. It doesn't mean I am fishing for compliments and it doesn't mean that people still won't say less-than-thoughtful comments; it means that I will continue to find positive things about myself and the pregnancy to share each week and will be brave in learning to detach from what, if anything, is said about the photos.

And on that note, I share with you, Week 12 of Baby No.4's Belly Watch: a bump that for the first time ever, has not lost weight in the first trimester because I have not been sick. Not even once! How could I not celebrate a belly like that?!

Regression

Holy mother of being a mother. This week, I tell ya, has been a bit of A Week. I'd love to credit blame the moon or the weather or anything other than myself, but the reality is, it is my short temper and edginess that is probably making everything seem worse/more intense.

OK, my kids deserve some credit blame, too. I won't name names but this week I've dealt with children bolting down the driveway/sidewalk (and laughing), screaming and crying because I let un-named child turn off the TV exactly as per said-un-named child's request, AND screaming and crying for 25 minutes because somehow I missed the telepathic request for peanut butter and jelly, not honey, on both sandwiches for lunch yesterday and how could un-named child possibly ever stop crying because it was my fault that said-un-named child was crying in the first place but said-un-named child also, apparently, needed me to keep talking to stop the crying. W.T.H.?! Are you exhausted yet? Patience lost? Yeah, me too.

It doesn't help that Cranky B* is a classic pregnancy "symptom" for me in part because I am run down and tired and not feeling well, and in part because of, you know, the raging hormones and all that. I am not ashamed to say that I don't always handle myself or my family in the best way when I am in the family way - it just is what it is. But this week has felt especially dispiriting because it feels like such a reversion to Angry Mommy of the past. Pre-therapy/pre-yoga/pre-better-coping skills (although I don't know anyone who could have handled the Great Sandwich Meltdown of 2015 - from their own kid anyway - without feeling despair, and, in my defense, I did not yell, WTF is your problem?! or call Bullshit! at any point in the 25 minutes. At least not out loud, so I'll call that a parenting win, especially during this challenging week).

After two extremely hard days in a row, of both kid behavior and my reactions/desperation, it occurred to me that a key part of my coping skills has been lacking totally missing lately - yoga. Yes, I know some of you might think I walk around thinking yoga is the wonder cure of all that ails ya (actually, that's pretty true), but that's because it is something that really does help most, if not all, of what ails me. It makes my physical body feel good, but more importantly it helps sooth my mental, spiritual, and emotional bodies, too. And lately I have not been getting on the mat other than to teach which is clearly a huge problem.

When I started teaching last fall, I immediately learned that preserving and protecting my own practice was going to be challenging but mandatory. After getting pregnant, those ideas did not change, but first trimester stuff has clearly gotten in my way the last two months and that is something I cannot credit blame my kids for - at least not the ones already out and running around my house like perfectly cute (and probably perfectly normal) hooligans. I know how important self-care and me time is and for me, that is best suited in yoga. I need to do the yoga! Not just teach it. So if I'm still not sure I have the energy level to do a full hr-long class at the studio, I need to do my own little practices here at home. Find something online or just make it up on own. It's not like I haven't had the training to handle this! Home practice is an area in which I have always struggled but seeing as how I am struggling so much right now without any yoga, even a less-than-stellar hop on the mat at home would be better than nothing. For all of us!

Listen

This past weekend found me in Omaha for one more (for now) yoga training, this one my final installment of prenatal training. In a beautifully (and symbolically appropriate) way, this closing module brought me such a sense of peace plus knowledge, which is great because the very first one stirred up a lot shtuff for me, and now that I've done the work and put in the time, energy, and tears that always seem to accompany my yoga trainings, I feel prepared and ecstatic to begin teaching my prenatal class this coming Sunday. It is going to be awesome! What turned out to be less than awesome, however, was my journey home from my Ommmazaing weekend in Ommmmaha.

As all of you in and around Nebraska know, this past weekend brought with it something we haven't seen much of this year, known in local circles as "Winter." Because we have had such little snow and within the last week, days of 60* temps, I don't know that any of us were quite ready for this so-called Winter (nor was it properly predicted which made the whole appearance of 6-8 inches of snow plus wind plus freezing-arse cold even worse). At least, I was not. When I left for Omaha on Friday afternoon, I actually had to come back in the house to get my winter coat, "just in case" and oh my, come Sunday when I was digging out my car in my friend's driveway (bless her heart and another friend's for digging out said driveway so I could leave), was I ever glad to have that coat (and hat, gloves, boots, and Smartwools!).

After going slow and taking twice as long as normal to get across town to the studio for our final of final days (and rewarding myself with Starbucks upon doing so), I attended a great birthing workshop lead by two doulas from Omaha (on Baby 4 and still learning amazing things about birth and labor and natural birth!), had a tasty late/working lunch with all my yoginis, and celebrated our group with a heartfelt closing ceremony that cracked my heart wide open, once again, in all the best ways.

At that point, it was time to finally decide what I would be doing with the rest of my day, which included calling and texting both my hubs and couple friends to see what they thought of travel. Since one of my dearest friends was in Lincoln with her family for the day, Ben thought it would work well if I left Omaha, met up with them as they were leaving Lincoln and we caravanned home. I agreed because, man, I wanted to get home so badly, even though I knew there had been some pretty serious accidents along I-80 throughout the day and that it would be slow going. Part of me hesitated though because I did not want to put myself at risk and was hemming and hawing for a fair chunk of time before I finally took the plunge and headed out into the frozen tundra.

Two indicators that I should have stayed overnight? The first was that I left my rings at my friend's house Sunday morning in my flurry to dig out my car, throw everything in it, and head for the studio. I don't know how I did that (or why I even had them since I normally don't wear them to yoga other than the fact that I wanted to feel connected to Ben and my family while I was away), but I knew I wasn't going to drive the opposite direction from home to get them unless I was staying again. The second was that when I was going back and forth on "Should I stay or should I go now??" I thought about calling my dad and then didn't because I knew he would tell me to stay put and apparently that wasn't what I wanted to hear so I didn't ask. Sorry, Dad; you were so right, even though you didn't say a darn word. So yes, the lesson learned is that when the Universe gives you a sign (leaving your wedding ring and great-grandma's mother's ring) at your friend's house and you want to be as stubborn as a toddler and ignore the good advice you know you'll get from you parents, LISTEN TO THOSE VOICES. Sheesh.

As it was, the first hour of my trip went really well, so I thought I had made a great choice. I made sure I had a full tank of gas and was driving cautiously, and I made it from Omaha to Lincoln much faster (but not actually fast, mind you!) than anticipated. I even manifested Katy Perry coming on the radio to inspire my inner-Durga (that's not going to make much sense to those who were not with me over the weekend at training, sorry) and all was well. Except that my phone started beeping "Low Battery" just as I went around Lincoln and I thought about pulling over to chill somewhere for 20 minutes and charge it, but then decided to just keep going because the roads were clear(ish) and there was still daylight. My friend and her hubs were not ready to leave Lincoln yet, so we chatted briefly on the phone, and decided maybe we'd meet up along the way home, maybe not. All was well. Until it was not.

While getting around Lincoln was no trouble, the roads started to get more snow-packed and slick as I got closer to the Crete exit. Traffic slowed down but kept moving and I thought, OK. This is still OK. After passing the Milford exit and shortly thereafter, the Seward exit, traffic slowed all the way to a stop. I bet I wasn't a 1/4 mile past the Seward exchange at that point but there was clearly no going back since, hi, that's not legal, and cars and trucks were packed in tight in both lanes. That was at 6:00 p.m. And although I did not know it at the time, it would not be until two-and-a-half HOURS later that I would make it the SIX miles down the Interstate to the next possible exit, at which point I felt like the biggest fool for even considering the idea of leaving Omaha yesterday, much less actually trying to do so!

During those two-and-a-half hours, I went through the full range of emotions. At first I was like, well, no big deal. I have plenty of gas and I am warm and I'm not in the ditch. All is well. Thankfully, all of those three things remained constant the entire time I was stuck either not moving or inching along the road. But then I started to panic and freak out a bit because my phone had been beeping low battery for so long and I had no way to charge it, so I was worried that it was going to go out on me and then no one could keep me updated on road conditions or know that I was OK and the whole thing was just panic-inducing, isolating, and kind of scary.

By some not-so-small miracle, though, my phone hung in there for the entire experience. And it allowed me to make multiple calls and send multiple texts which also had me experiencing the full range of emotions (bursting out in tears while taking to my dear friend who, after leaving Lincoln well over an hour after I went by, caught up to the Seward exit and was able to get off I-80 to drive on the highway instead whereas I was still stuck less than four miles in front of her) (getting really upset at my husband for telling me I should get off at Goehner - the next exit - and "find a bar" where I could charge my phone and hang out for a bit before heading on) (laughing out loud with my SiL, whose house, at that point, was my goal destination via the exit past Goehner, about the fact that her brother thought I should hang out at a bar when I couldn't even drink) (to relief when I heard from Ben that he'd found multiple places for me to stay if I did in fact get off at Goehner, including the house of a friend of his mom's who lives, literally, a 1/4 mile off the exit ramp there). Full range, people. Full range. All told, it was NUTS (and don't even ask about what my pregnant bladder thought of the whole debacle).

But yes. Six miles in two-and-a-half hours and I finally, blessedly, thankfully, safely made it off that damn road and to a landing spot for the night where I could plug in my little wonder-phone, let people know I was OK, eat some yummy SuperBowl food, and have a room and comfy bed all to myself. And all courtesy of gracious people whom I had never met before but were beyond happy to help. Thank goodness for good people!

Clearly exhausted from last night's proceedings, I slept in until almost 7:30 this morning and after breakfast and starting/loading the car, braved the end of my host's driveway and got back on the interstate at 8:30 this morning. Two hours after that (which is normally just shy of the time it takes me to get from Hastings all the way to Omaha), I made it home. The roads were clearly not great but traffic was at least moving, so I took my time and was in no-rush whatsoever to get anywhere. Except maybe Starbucks in York. I had already decided I was stopping there because that's what I do, but just outside of York, a truck went by me and found just enough melted junk on the road to cover my windshield in yuck, at which point I realized my driver side windshield-wiper-fluid-dispenser-thing-a-ma-bob was plugged with ice. The seven miles into York from there were less than fun, but I made it safe and sound and got my scrapper out after I parked at Starbucks to fix everything. However, the ice was especially stuck in the tiny little holes, so my scraper didn't quite do the trick and my windshield was still a mess, leaving me to wonder how I was actually going to get home if I couldn't see.

Fortunately I have some mad MacGyver skills and managed to use a Starbucks stir-stick to get it cleaned out so I could in fact make it all the way back to Hastings yet today. Have I said THANK GOODNESS yet in this post? Because I've been thinking it nonstop for the last few hours now that I am safe and sound (and bathed and showered) in my own cozy home.

A girl and her stick. Just another reason for
me to heart Starbucks. 

Of course hindsight is 20/20 and no one could have predicted running into that intense of a traffic jam when nothing about it was being reported at the time I left, and while my sanity and pride wish I had listened to those little voices that said STAY, ultimately it all worked out and in the safest, most pleasant (all things considered) way. And my lesson is totally learned - sometimes being a bada** means just staying the flip put and waiting for better conditions to travel!

Books 2015

A new year and a new goal - 52 books in 52 weeks, all picked because they fit one of the categories in the below-posted list. A friend shared this link with me on New Year's and I was instantly excited, not to mention hooked. I spent some time filling in ideas for many of the categories and figure the rest will fall into place throughout the year. Will I really accomplish this? Well, I have yet to hit a book a week since I started keeping track of titles two years ago, but I love the category prompts and am greatly anticipating many of these titles, so maybe there is hope? 

Beyond the category list, I'm going to keep track of the books in the order I read them along with brief notes; this is how I remember which ones I want to recommend to others and is what I typically post at the end of each December. Beyond that is yet another list of titles that I've found or have been recommended to me. Will they make the cut this year? Perhaps; but if not, I want to hang on to them for 2016. As for this present calendar year, well, three cheers for many happy hours of reading contained within it! 

Stack of nine books to get me started - either from the L.I.B. or our
own shelves. A couple I've read before, but remember next to
nothing about, but at least half are totally new. 

Categories for Book Selection 
• A book with more than 500 pages  All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr 
• A classic romance  Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen 
• A book that became a movie The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick
• A book published this year The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins
• A book with a number in the title  Counting by 7s by Holly Goldberg Sloan
• A book written by someone under 30
• A book with nonhuman characters  The Sea of Monsters (Percy Jackson and the Olympians Book 2) by Rick Riordan 
• A funny book  Yes Please by Amy Poehler
• A book by a female author Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline 
• A mystery or thriller  The Expats (a novel) by Chris Pavone 
• A book with a one-word title Lila by Marilynne Robinson
• A book of short stories One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories by B.J. Novak 
• A book set in a different country  The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
• A nonfiction book Bountiful, Beautiful, Blissful by Gurmukh
• A popular author’s first book Attachments by Rainbow Rowell
• A book from an author you love that you haven’t read yet   Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty
• A book a friend recommended The Northern Lights by Jennifer Donnely 
• A Pulitzer Prize-winning book  Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
• A book based on a true story  Into Thin Air by John Krakauer
• A book at the bottom of your to-read list 50 Shades of Grey by EL James
• A book your mom loves Sure Signs of Crazy by Karen Harrington
• A book that scares you The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova 
• A book more than 100 years old
• A book based entirely on its cover
• A book you were supposed to read in school but didn’t  Skinny Legs and All by Tom Robbins (not that I have ever not read an assigned book - this was one that was taught at Doane in a class I did not have to take, but I have always felt like I should read it as I took plenty of other classes from the same professor who adores TR - end rant!)
• A memoir The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe
• A book you can finish in a day The Good Luck of Right Now by Matthew Quick
• A book with antonyms in the title  All Days are Night by Peter Staam 
• A book set somewhere you’ve always wanted to visit  The House Girl by Tara Conklin
• A book that came out the year you were born  The Color Purple by Alice Walker
• A book with bad reviews
• A trilogy The Giver series (technically four books, see below Gathering Blue, Messenger, Son)
• A book from your childhood The Giver by Lois Lowry 
• A book with a love triangle Landline by Rainbow Rowell
• A book set in the future  Delirium by Lauren Oliver
• A book set in high school I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson
• A book with a color in the title  Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery 
• A book that made you cry
• A book with magic
• A graphic novel Copycat Crook
• A book by an author you’ve never read before Dear Daughter by Elizabeth Little
• A book you own but have never read  Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
• A book that takes place in your home town The Homecoming by m.c. merrill
• A book that was originally written in a different language The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
• A book set during Christmas The Christmas Train by David Baldacci 
• A book written by an author with your same initials by Fly Away Home by Jennifer Weiner
• A play Uncommon Women and Others by Wendy Wasserstein 
• A banned book  American Psycho by Brett Easton Ellis
• A book based on or turned into a TV show Orange is the New Black by Piper Kerman
• A book you started but never finished  Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Wolfe
Find category: Go Find a Watchman by Harper Lee (!)

Books in Order - 2015
1) The Expats (a novel) by Chris Pavone -- this one had my head swimming and my hands turning pages quickly as I raced through it trying to get all the loose ends pieced together.
2) Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery -- so much about this had I forgotten! Most embarrassingly, that it is set in Canada and that it is the book that gives us the beautiful (and with which I heartedly agree) quote, "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers." Wonderful re-read!
3) The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick -- could have easily put this in the "made me laugh" and "read in a day" categories because it was so good that I couldn't go to bed last night until I finished. Loved the slightly unreliable and mentally unstable narrator and am looking forward to watching the movie this weekend (finally!) w/ the hubs.
4) The Good Luck of Right Now by Matthew Quick -- can't help but make a comment about my quick Quick kick - two of his books in back-to-back days. They are that devourable and interesting.
5) All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr -- this book certainly took a lot longer to get through than my first few offerings of the year, but it was well worth the time and the read. Beautifully and intricately woven narrative and characters. Beyond good.
6) Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty -- patting myself on the back for figuring out one major twist in the novel, but was still left turning pages frantically at the end, waiting to put all the pieces together. Love her characters and the way this one unfolded narratively.
7) Lila by Marilynne Robinson -- had no idea I was stumbling into a series of sorts when I read this book (and it's number 3 - whoops!) but I greatly enjoyed it and look forward to reading others (and adding them to this year's list)!
8) The Giver by Lois Lowry -- always interesting to go back to a book from when you were younger. Now I am so intrigued to read the rest of the series for the first time!
9) Fly Away Home by Jennifer Weiner -- thought this was going to be an easy/breezy read but there was way more depth and content (in such a good way) here than anticipated, so instead it allowed me to slow down and really enjoy the characters and their stories.
10) Bountiful, Beautiful, Blissful by Gurmukh -- I can't believe it took me until my fourth pregnancy to discover the "Gurmukh book" but OH. MY. Now that it's in my life, it will forever by my recommendation to all the mamas, new or repeat. So empowering. So wonderful.
11) Dear Daughter by Elizabeth Little -- Randomly plucked from the New Fiction shelves at the LIB and brought home primarily b/c the setting of the novel takes place, mostly, in SoDak. Was an entertaining mystery read that left me guessing through most of it. (completed Feb.7 - productive start to my reading year!)
12) The House Girl by Tara Conklin -- Another random grab from the New Fiction shelf - turned out to be a page turner that I enjoyed. Love intertwining characters and story lines that cross boundaries of time and location. Put this as the "place I'd like to visit" pick because I really would like to see more places in The South.
13) Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline -- joining a new book club this year and this was my first read for that group. Another cross/generation cross/narrator book which is right up my alley! Honestly had no idea about orphan trains, so this fictional read was both entertaining and eye opening.
14) Landline by Rainbow Rowell -- aeieieee, I love RR's books and this one was no exception. A quick read, with a little bit of magic and mystery and I just loved it. I have a copy, if you'd like to borrow it.
15) Gilead by Marilynne Robinson -- part one of the accidental trilogy I discovered in reading Lila, and I must say, I am very curious to read part two as well. Each book features a different narrator/protagonist, but all are connected, so the whole story is coming together in a fascinating way.
16) The Sea of Monsters (Percy Jackson and the Olympians Book 2) by Rick Riordan -- have to say, I read the first of this series last year and I really do enjoy them - but since I can, I need to read them closer together from here on out so I don't forget so much. A great YA series! 
17) Gathering Blue by Lois Lowry -- book two in the Giver Series which I did not know was a series until a year or so ago. Loving it but have huge desire to re-watch M. Night Shyamalan's The Village now. 
18) Messenger by Lois Lowry -- flying through these books b/c 1) they are SO good 2) they are written for young adults 3) can't wait to see what happens in Book Four
19) Son by Lois Lowry -- the last book in the series took me a wee bit longer than the first three but totally worth it. Loved how much the story stood on its own as well as tied in everything from the entire series and gave the quartet a feeling of finality. SO good. Still can't believe I didn't know this was a series until recently! (finished March 2) 
20) Counting by 7s by Holly Goldberg Sloan -- took me longer than anticipated to get into this book, but once I did, I was very much in and enjoyed the variety of narrative voice/style and the story itself. 
21) Memoirs of a Geisha by Arther Golden -- pretty sure this book has been on my shelves since before I was married and yet I've never read it because I didn't think I could get into it. Wrong! So good, I couldn't put it down. So I'm 15ish years late to the party (it was originally published in 97. Crazy.), but if you are too, read it!!
22) One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories by BJ Novak -- I may have laughed harder at the acknowledgements and "Discussion Questions" than the stories, but that doesn't mean they weren't enjoyable. I loved the way characters and bits from one story would subtly appear in another later on in the book. A great collection!
23) Attachments by Rainbow Rowell -- it's official! I have now read all of RR's books (ending w/ her first) and loved every one, too. I should have known better to start this right after supper last night because then I had to stay up until I finished it. Can't wait for what she does next! 
24) Delirium by Lauren Oliver -- aaaaaaand I am officially over the whole YA doomsday genre. (completed 3.30.15)
25) The Homecoming by M.C. Merrill -- Whoa. I was only 10 at the time of Tammy Haas' murder so honestly, I remember very little of this in real time. Based on true events but fictionalized, this book was a mind game to read because of knowing/remembering very little from what was in the news/talked about at the time or in the years after, so I had a hard time knowing what might be real and what might be speculation within the text. All told, the book paints a much different picture of the Yankton I knew as a kid, or even how I know it now, but it certainly made me think. 
26) I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson -- Thanks to the beauty of social media, I'm now helping start another book club and this was selected as the first read for that group and Oh. My. I adored it. Flat out, adored. The narrators, the imagery, the descriptions of real life in such a dramatic and teen ager sort of way without being overdone or annoying....SO GOOD! And squeeeeeeeeee! I'm HALF-WAY!!! (4.8.15)
27) Orange is the New Black by Piper Kerman -- back-to-back book club reads this week and I was super excited to read this one because I've been wanting to read it ever since B & I started watching the Netflix version of it last year. Love the show and still do, but (spoiler alert) this book is really not like the over-the-top drama you get with the show. It is such a fascinating memoir, though, and really makes a person think about not only the prison system but also the justice system at large and how we could be doing SO much better as a society to approach reform and corrections in a better way. Bonus for my book list? This totally fits a category I had left to fill! 
28) 50 Shades of Grey by EL James -- when this came out a few years ago, I did want to read it, but since then my interest dwindled hence the category selected for this book now that I have finally read it. My response? There's not much, beyond the obvious, that happens in 500 pages, and I could get super snotty about the language/word choices used, but instead I'll just say this book is what it is: not complete garbage but not literary amazingness either. 
29) The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins -- Bummer. Sometimes you request and wait for a book, super excited because it is super popular and everyone wants to read it, and then you finally get your hands on a copy only to have it turn out to be meh. It's OK and some things surprise you, but others do not and by the end, you're left wondering what all the hype was about. In other words, this is not one I'd highly recommend. I liked the compelling narrative style of different voices/times, but I kept waiting for more Oomph. 
30) The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova -- OK, so not Stephen-King-Scary (I haven't read anything like that since high school and don't care to again b/c my imagination is overly active and I don't sleep enough as it is, thank you very much!), but focused on Dracula and super creepy in places, so I'm counting it as the scary book of the bunch. Also terrifying? It was 909 (909!) pages long! I liked the book a lot, though, and found it entertaining in its multi-layeredness, even if some of the historical bits got a bit dense. Side note: Brilliant Husband suggested I also do a count of pages read for all of these books. Totally going to do that! (Date completed 4.23.15)
31) The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe -- Written by a man who stays connected to his dying mother (pancreatic cancer) through the shared love for books, this is another book club read for the year. Some poignant lines about connections and life and, obviously, the importance of reading, that I greatly enjoyed in the book. Some of the discussion of the books read and even the lifestyle of the family over the years was a bit out of touch for me, but the relationship between the two of them and how he found a way to support and listen to his mother through their book talks was touching. 
32) 


Want to Read List
Home by Marilynne Robinson
The Magician's Lie by Greer Macallister 
The Wicked Girls by Alex Marwood (not at lib)
This One is Mine by Maria Semple (not at lib)
Serena by Ron Rash (not at lib)
Reconstructing Amelia by Kimberly McCreight

The Round House by Louise Erdrich

What Came from the Stars by Gary Schmidt

The Girl with the Pearl Earing by Tracy Chevalier

The Birth House by Ami McKay

Hidden Wives by Claire Avery (not at lib) 

Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon

The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley

Abide with Me by Sabin Willett

Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter
Give Me Everything You Have by James Lasdun
Her by Christa Parravani
The Shipping News by Annie Proulx
Call the Midwife by Jennifer Worth
The Night Gwen Stacy Died 
Goldfinch
Law Man
Loving Frank
Higher Calling (true story)
Cutting for Stone
A Reliable Wife 
We Are Not Ourselves
The Meaning of Names by Karen Shoemaker