WEEKLY GUILT JOURNAL

You know how sometimes just talking about things makes you feel better? Well, I'm putting that to the test in a new weekly series I'm calling my "Guilt Journal". Every Mormon girl has one. Maybe not neatly printed out in the leather bound book she keeps bedside...but it's there. It could be masquerading as a "to do" list or it might just be rattling around in her conscience. One way or another, it exists and it wreaks havoc on her mental health.
Things I'm guilty about this week:
1. I STILL have not taken Clementine's 9-month photo. I take them every month. She sits next to the same stuffed animals wearing the party hat I made her. They are adorable and document how she has changed each month. She turned 9-months on April 22 and I haven't yet taken the photo. Let me point out the obvious. She turns 10-months in a few days. So now, I'm gonna have to take the fake 9-month photo and then wait for a few weeks to take the late 10-month photo and hope that her hair grows really fast in between. Otherwise she'll look exactly the same in both photos. Possible fix: Put make up on her for the 10-month photo. Not a lot. Just some blush, lip stain, and mascara. Other possible fix: stuff her bra

2. I bought a gorgeous poppy flower to plant in the flowerbed and improve our curbside appeal. And there it sits, getting root-bound and coughing up dusty air STILL IN THE POT. How can it be that hard? It is though. Because I have to 1. get Clementine to take a nap or drag out a blanket and toys for her to sit on while I work. 2. change my clothes in to my work knits (as opposed to my everyday knits or heaven forbid my special occasion knits) and put on actual shoes (not just flip flops). You can't use a shovel in flip flops. I've tried before.

3. I've done laundry all week. I actually like doing it. I like taking a pile of stanky-ass clothes and turning them into a fluffy, warm pile that smells like Gain and Bounce. I also like to fold the clothes and put them in neat little stacks. What I don't like to do is put those stacks away. I hate it. Once of my top 10 worst household chores. So the laundry I did on Monday is still sitting on the chaise lounge in neat little piles. Five. Days. Later.

4. I recently discovered that I love to cook. I love trying new recipes and working with ingredients (like saffron) that I don't normally use. I love putting a plate of steaming hot food in front of Nate and then basking in the warm glow of his compliments. I haven't cooked a good meal in a few weeks now. Nate is back to his old habits of eating cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'm back to my old habit of hating myself for letting the asparagus go bad.

5. Birthday cards. I like to get them. I like to send them. I have a nice list of family birthdays (on both sides) and I still can't manage to send the people I love a nice card. What is wrong with me? I love them. I have the means to buy or make a card. I know they must be like me and still get a little excited to receive a piece of mail that isn't from AARP. C'mon Tonia, what's the problem.

I'm not sure I feel much better about it. In fact, it might have just brought it all back to the surface. But there you have it. This week's top 5 things on my guilt journal.

See how the pillows are stacked up like a tower
because they have no place to go on the chaise?

I'M GRATEFUL FOR MY GRASS...I JUST WISH IT WERE A LITTLE GREENER

It's basically been the same way my whole life. I'm sitting in the grass trying to get some vitamin D on my face and all I can hear is the happy chortles of those next door...playing in their greener grass where the sun is much warmer and their teeth are somehow white as porcelain. Oh, and also, over there in the greener grass, they don't go long stretches of time wearing ZERO traces of make up and they most certainly haven't resigned themselves to "the winter of knit" (which, by the way, has been the lamest idea since not shaving my legs for 6-months in college).

Peering over the fence I can only imagine what I look like to them. Let's just start with the obvious: my hair looks greasy and gray (because it is), my face looks weathered (because having a baby stripped by skin of some super essential hormone that resulted in my face skin turning sallow and crepey). Either that, or I'm 40. Then there is a little thing called Holy Crap, where did my muscle tone go? And finally there is the knit? If comfortable means I walk around all hunched over and sloppy then Hells Yes, I'm comfy. It's just a little difficult to wake up day after day always looking like the pathetic before photo in the makeover segment show What Not To Wear.

This fence peering post I keep, it's familiar. Sometimes I look over and see lots of beautiful people and that's hard. But what is harder is to look over and see people who probably never wake up afraid. I wake up afraid a lot. You see, somewhere way back in the anals of my childhood, I decided that if I couldn't be or do perfectly, then I shouldn't be or do. It's better to just quietly blend into the background or foreground than to try anything and not be perfect at it - which translates to mediocre. And mediocre is basically the worst word you could EVER USE AROUND ME. It's fine if you are describing the steak you had for dinner (unless I cooked it for you) but it's a dagger to the heart if you use it in reference to anything connected to me.There are so many things I want to do or try but I'm simply too afraid.

Those people on the other side of the fence also have this super-human amount of motivation. I mean, I shuffle around the house with my teeth unbrushed, sometimes until...all day long. Meanwhile, they have made 6 loaves of homemade bread, reupholstered a chair they bought for $3 at a garage sale, exercised, and have put together some enchantingly clever outfit that absolutely does not include black yoga pants. They take these beautiful photos of their beautiful lives and all I can do is peek thru the slats in the fence and wonder how in the eff they got back into their jeans after they had their baby. And is their baby already walking?

Does anyone else carry on long bouts of dialogue with themselves? The kind that starts, "did I brush my teeth yet? Oh man, no I didn't. And it's 3pm. Why bother now. Clementine hasn't been out of the house in 3 days. I should be arrested for child abuse for keeping her in the house so long. I guess I'll brush my teeth and take her on a walk but I'm absolutely not combing my hair or changing my clothes. What you see is what you get people. If I wear sunglasses and some lip gloss I'll fool them all. I didn't expect it to be so warm out. I wish I could take off my sweatshirt but my tee has sweet potatoes on it and I accidentally dried it in the dryer so it fits too tight and I hate how my arms look in it. I guess I'll just leave my hoodie on and sweat like a pig. Oh crap, I didn't wear any deodorant. And look at my yoga pants; they haven't been washed in so long they have knee bumps even when I'm standing with my legs straight. It's nice out. This weather, this sunshine, it all makes me want to get really creative. I feel like I could write a novel in 12 seconds if I were home in front of the computer; I'm gonna write for an hour after I get Clementine down for her nap. Look at that cute mom over there swinging her little girl. hmfph. I'm so hot all I want to do is take off this stupid jacket. But now I have BO so I definitely cannot. Clem seems tired, I'll start heading back. When I get home I need to thaw out that chicken so I can make dinner; I think Nate's dad is coming at 5:30. Oh, and I need to put the clothes in the dryer; if I forget again those clothes will permanently smell like mildew. I can't stop thinking about that cute mom at the swings. Oh, there is so-and-so, I don't want her to see me because I stink and I'm pretty sure I was wearing this on Monday when I saw her before.

I love my husband and my baby more than ever. That grass couldn't be greener or more succulent. But the grass that represents me, my accomplishments, how I look and feel...rubbish. Luckily, Clementine has 101 faces that cheer me up during the course of the day and I look forward to each one for their own specific healing powers. Take this one for example.

I imagine her as a pirate saying,
"It's time to throw ye overboard matey.
That tee is a disgrace even to a pirate."