Modern Femme loves...all things Martha

We all know I am a Martha devotee, but even I couldn't help but laugh at myself this morning as I unpacked my breakfast and lunch at my desk. 

Do I own enough of Martha's products (and these are just the ones at work, mind you)?   From left to right: Martha's Sistema breakfast and lunch caddies, Martha's Avery Home Office file folders, Discbound notebook, and assorted Martha Stack and Fit desk accessories.

All hail the queen.
xoxo
MF

The Modern Femme (does NOT) love...Charitable House Calls

Dear Charities:

I understand that you are striving to make the world a better place, whether it is for children, animals, ecosystems, or social causes.  As a former not-for-profit employee myself, I understand that you operate on slender budgets, and rely on the largesse of the public to see the value of your cause, and to help you do your good work through donations. I understand that public outreach is needed to both spread your message and solicit contributions.  But listen to me closely here, because I have had enough. 

Stop coming to my home to ask for money.  It is inappropriate, it is presumptuous, and it is often a damned inconvenience.

Ding dong, annoyance calling.

In the last few months, my doorbell has been rung more than once by these donation-seeking pavement pounders.  As someone living in a city, I'm used to the occasional shyster coming to my door, peddling a slick deal. But what I cannot abide is someone seeking to guilt me into cleaning up our waterways, or sending a child in poverty to school.  And what especially sends me into a lather is that these people have no compunction about ringing your doorbell at dinner time, demanding to speak with you, and attempting to continue the conversation when you've indicated you are not interested. 

Here's what happened to me last night:
  
Scene:  6:30 pm, Weeknight.  MF is sitting with Bebe in the dining room, helping him eat his dinner. Ginger the dog is anxiously attending to Bebe's movements, waiting for a stray crumb.

DING-DONG!

Ginger sets off into a manic burst of barking - which, from an 88 pound dog, is loud and alarming.  Bebe, startled, bursts into tears.  MF hurries to the door, grabs Ginger by the collar, and attempts to crack open the door just enough to converse with whomever's outside.

Charity Worker:  Hello, my name is Sandra and I'm with Save the Snails.  I'm here to talk with you about the important place snails have in our ecosystem and what you can do to ensure that they maintain their rightful place in the digestive pecking order.  The continuation of the snail species is important to you, right?

MF (struggling to restrain Ginger from giving Charity Worker a tongue bath, while also checking to make sure shrieking Bebe is not falling from his high chair in hysterics):  SHHHH Ginger!  Hi, I'm sorry, but this is not a good time, my son is having his dinner.

Charity Worker:  Oh! Okay, no problem, I can come back...later tonight.  I'll be in the neighborhood until 9:00 pm.  When is a good time for you?

MF (dumbfounded):  Umm, no I'm sorry.  Tonight is not a good time.

Charity Worker:  Well, tonight's the only night I'll be in the neighborhood.  (Turns on her heel.) Snail-killer.

Charities, listen to me here.  This is NOT the way to get people to support your cause.  I suspect it's not doing much to pad your coffers, either.  Most of us folks think of our home as our sanctuary.  We do not want to engage in a conversation on our front porch with a complete stranger who is trying to brow beat us into giving up our money to a cause that we have given no thought to prior to them setting foot on our doorstep. 

Secondly, if you must send representatives out into the neighborhood to solicit funds, then instruct them that no means NO.  Do not encourage them to ask me if I'm really sure I want to see the snail species die off, or perhaps I can scrounge up a mere dollar a day to donate to snail saving research.  I said no, and I mean no. 

Finally, do not come to my house on a weeknight.  Ever.  I arrive home from work looking to relax and put the stress of the day behind me.  I do not appreciate having my evening routine interrupted.  You may solicit my attention and possible donations from 11:00 am - 2:00 on Saturday or Sunday.  I may or may not be home, in which case, you are welcome to leave a flyer.


Better yet, don't stop by, leave flyers, OR call me.  I'll call you, if I decide to help save those snails.

Lessons from Lent: on sacrifice and humility

I want to tell you all about a lesson I've learned over the last week about the right and wrong way to make a decision about sacrificing something, and how important humility is in that decision.  I'm going to tell it through the lens of Lent.  But before I get going I want to issue this disclaimer:  I haven't spoken about my faith before because I strive to keep this blog relatively light-hearted, and because I believe that we each have a unique relationship to our existence, and the right to interpret that existence (atheist, agnostic, believer) in whichever way we choose.  M'kay? Let's all be friends.

Anyway, let me get on with it - Wednesday of last week was the start of Lent, which is a solemn time of 40 days of fasting/sacrifice, prayer and reflection in the Christian Church.   Last Wednesday, I impulsively decided that for my Lenten sacrifice I would give up my nightly cocktail, and then announced my decision on Facebook for all my friends and family to see.  While I had good intentions, I realize now that I made that decision for all the wrong reasons.

(Wrong) Reason #1: While this was a worthy gesture of Lenten fasting because I really LIKE my glass of wine or beer each night, when I made my decision public, it went from being something that should have been quiet, internal, and contemplative to a big deal, with a fair share of boastfulness and swagger.  

(Wrong) Reason #2:  Instead of thinking about the spiritual and emotional benefits I would gain from participating in this sacrificial gesture, I focused on my pride - anticipating murmurs of approval from family members, and even going so far as to think, "ohhh I bet I'll lose some weight, I should weigh myself at the start of the 40 days and again at the end and see if I'm down a few pounds."   (In case you haven't guessed, this is not the point of Lent.)

I'll spare you the suspense - it's probably not a big surprise to hear that in the past week I succumbed to temptation and had a glass of wine (or two).  Trust me, it was a glass of wine with a lot of baggage and all of it was prideful.   From the my first sip I was thinking "what will others think?  Will they be scornful of my weak will?  Will they say cruel or hurtful or judgemental things?  Will I look like a fool for having made this a big deal publicly?"  Again, NOT the point of Lent.  (Thank goodness for forgiveness - I'll get 'em next year, J!)

But, sacrifices - rightly or wrongly made - don't just happen at Lent.  A sacrifice doesn't have to be tied to a spiritual practice.  We all make sacrifices everyday - we sacrifice eating food we love to go on diets, we sacrifice our beloved wine or beer to go on the wagon, we sacrifice our fun diversions by trying to not spend so much money, we sacrifice sleep to exercise, or sacrifice time to ourselves to volunteer in our communities or do things for our family members or friends.  Maybe you haven't thought about it this way before, but making a decision to diet or start a new routine is a form of sacrifice. 

And here's what I've learned:  Any sacrifice, whether it be abstaining from something (dieting, giving up something you like to do), or adding something new to your life (a workout regime, volunteering your time), that comes from a boastful or prideful place is doomed to eventual failure because you aren't doing it for yourself.  You're doing it for the attention and admiration from others. 

In other words, if you're considering starting up an intense workout regime because it's badass and other people will admire your dedication, hold on.  If you're looking in the mirror and wanting to diet because you want people tripping all over themselves to tell you how gorgeous you look, wait.  If you're thinking about volunteering somewhere because you want to be known as the really generous, big-hearted community member, back it up.  All of those reasons have nothing to do with you.  You are making a decision to sacrifice something to gain the approval of others.  And let me tell you - cause I know from immediate experience - that dog won't hunt. 

So my dears, if you decide to make a sacrifice - whether it be starting a workout routine...or diet...or abstaining from something...or volunteering your time, do it because it will make you, and you alone happy.  As in, you'd be okay with no one ever knowing that you were waking up at 4:00am to run, or only eating whole grains and lean protein, or heading up the staff at your local food kitchen.  You would know, and that humble knowledge would be enough - in fact it would be more than enough.  That is the lesson that I learned this week.

Photo by davidh_

 
Imperfectly yours,
xoxo
MF

Full disclosure series: The power of choices

Y'all.  I promised you that I would be keeping it real here on Modern Femme.  And let me tell you:

1.  I haven't made my bed in weeks - and the worst part is that I don't care.  Not because I no longer care about the divine pleasure of crisp and perfumed sheets, but because I'm too dang tired. 

2.  Since Mr. MF finished our basement, we've been eating tv in front of the television more often than not...we used to eat at the dining room table with place mats and cloth napkins and candles.  Like grown-ups.

3.  Laundry is my nemesis and never. seems. to. be. done.

4.  I can't find my bluetooth headset.  No idea where it went.  It grew legs and walked away.  This is annoying because I talk to my mother every morning and this morning had to hold the phone to my ear while balancing an umbrella, a glowing green smoothie and two bags on my walk to work.

5.  Work.  Ugh.


I could go on...but I'm going to stop there.  No one likes a big whiner.

You know what?  Maybe, in stopping there, I'll take a step back and look at the story I just told you all.  Those five points are definitely a "glass half empty" view on my day-to-day.   I wonder, what if I flipped my perspective?  What if, instead of complaining and being a victim of my life, I presented the above situations as the results of choices I've made? After all, as Claire said in her Embracing Change post, you always have a choice:

1.  For the past few weeks, I've made the choice to sleep in an extra 10 minutes in a warm toasty bed, instead of making the bed. 

2. I make the choice at night to eat dinner out of a bowl on the couch with my husband, laughing together at bad tv, enjoying our new family room, rather than sitting down at the dining room table. 

3.  Maybe laundry never seems to be done because I'm always doing a load of laundry, since the washer and dryer are easily accessible from our new family room.  But, I haven't run out of undergarments, and I always have clean clothes for Bebe.  I'm just choosing to look at it as a glass-half empty situation.

4.  I made the (foolish) choice to absent-mindedly stash my bluetooth somewhere obscure, and I keep making the choice to not tear the house apart looking for it.  Instead, I often opt for another glass of wine and television surfing with the hubs, which, let's be honest, is a nicer way to unwind than hunting high and low for a small earpiece.

5.  This is the biggest choice that I make, over and over again, everyday.  I choose to come into a job that I know that I've grown out of, that doesn't capitalize on my talents, and that leaves me drained.  I make a choice to complain about it instead of proactively doing something about it.  I make a choice to shy away from considering what I might really want to do, because of my nasty inner critic's monologue (you might be familiar with it "it won't work...stay with what's safe...you'd never be good at that...you'd hate that eventually...).  But in knowing this, I am in control of this situation, and I need my next choice to be what I'm going to do to change it.

Wow.  That was really powerful for me, guys.  I started this blog post feeling sorry for myself, but now I'm feeling a little more empowered.  I think I'm onto something here.  Thanks Claire!

Imperfectly yours,
xoxo,
MF

Tweet tweet!

My dears - I've just realized that I had mistyped my twitter handle in my "Who is Modern Femme" section.

Oy!  Only 5 months after the fact. It's fixed now.

Anyhoodle, my twitter handle is @ModrnFemme.  If any of you are out there on twitter, follow me and I'll follow you!

You can also find me on Pinterest at Modern Femme.

xoxo,
MF

Full Disclosure Series...All the single parents

Last night, as I walked in the front door of my house, I knew I was done for.

The dining room table was covered in a jumble of Halloween decorations, interspersed with diaper bags, flashlights, our NOAA radio, batteries, a couple of jackets, and a cat.

The living room couch still had half of a cow costume on it, and about twenty copies of Home Beautiful that have been doing a circuit around the living room, from end table, to coffee table, to bench, to couch as *someone* swears she'll go through them and rip out pictures she likes to put in her interior design file.  Someday.

Every speck of counter top in the kitchen had something on it: cookbooks, soaking bowls with Bebe's bottles in them - the water long gone cold and the soap bubbles flat, clean Tupperware containers that should have been put away days ago, bowls of non-perishable fruit that were slowly perishing, and randomly enough, an umbrella. 

I'm not even going to describe what the master bedroom looks like - but I'll give you two words to spark your imagination.  Clothes.  Cyclone.

As I've mentioned before, I'm easily overwhelmed by visual clutter, and as I breached my front hallway, I knew the night was a wash.  Bebe needed to be nursed, fed, bathed, and put to bed, and I knew once that was done, I was going to be about as useful as a mop without a handle.  Forget dinner, forget cleaning or tidying up, I wanted two things - to be fed by someone other than myself, and to go straight to bed.

And my beloved Mr. MF was up to the task.  That darling man not only defrosted Bebe's supper (butternut squash...again), but walked the dog, gave his son a bath, ordered and picked up Chinese food, and cleaned up the kitchen.   He rocks.  I must have thanked him six times before I went to sleep, and I was still thanking him this morning. 

Being a parent takes some time to get used to.  Somedays (like last night) it can feel overwhelming.  And last night, my respect for single parents increased exponentially.  After all, I was able to lean on Mr. MF to take care of the dog, of dinner, and of cleaning up yesterday.  But had I been doing this solo, I would have had to suck it up and tackle it, regardless if I wanted to or not.  And the only thank yous I would have heard...well, I guess I wouldn't have heard any. 

So, much respect to all you single parents out there.  You are doing awesome jobs, and I hope someone tells you so today. 

High fives all around,
xoxo,
MF

P.S. I am an avid fan of Law Momma over at Spilled Milk and Other Atrocities.  She blogs about being a single mom, as well as a lawyer, and (I love this), a reluctant vegetarian.  She's also a talented writer.  You should check her blog out!

Full Disclosure series...Nightsong?

So last night, I crawl into bed at 9:00pm.  I'm flipping through the various catalogs that arrived in the mail (I love the J. Peterman catalogue - the little vignettes for each product are hilariously entertaining to read - who buys this stuff??) when I hear, out of nowhere, birds chirping.  At 9:00pm at night.

I turned to Mr. MF, who was browsing through the Internet on his iPad and, after ascertaining that he heard it as well, asked why birds would be singing when it was dark out.  "Maybe it's the huge thunderstorm that's headed our way," my husband offered helpfully, pointing to the Doppler radar that he had pulled up on his iPad. 

I grabbed my iPhone and Googled "birds chirping at night."  The resulting hits covered everything from "evil omens" (really people?) to the more probable proliferation of roads that brings noisy traffic into birds' nesting areas and forces the critters to sing at night, when they have a chance of being heard.  I relayed my new found knowledge to my husband (all the while, the darn birds are singing their hearts out), who grunted, and turned off my light, lamenting the destruction of habitats and the changes that man hath wrought on our feathered friends. 

Chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE! 

So, my problem is that I'm a very light sleeper, and if something is disturbing my sleep (chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE!), I fixate on it (chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE!) and can't let it go (chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE!).  So after about 60 seconds of tossing around in bed, I was relieved to hear that Bebe had started fussing - as I got out of bed to feed him, I crossed my fingers that the birds would get it out of their system and be done singing by the time I got back to bed.

Thirty minutes later (in a blissfully silent nursery - clearly the birds were right outside our bedroom window), I crept back into bed.  I listened for a beat in the darkness, heard nothing and settled against my pillow, content that the birds had wrapped up their nocturnal serenade.

Chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE! 

"Dammit!" I exclaimed, slapping the sheets and rousing Mr. MF.  "Those damn birds are going to keep me up all night." I flipped to my side, grumbling to myself and feeling very put out.

Two minutes later..."Babe." 

Mr. MF loomed next to me, propped up on his elbow, blinking sleepily.  I flipped over and waited for him to speak, wondering what was wrong.  He paused a beat more, and then said:

"That was my alarm clock.  I just realized.  It must have turned itself on when I reset it. The birds are one of the alarm sounds." 

We started at each other in the dark before bursting into laughter.  Like total morons, we had laid in bed for AN HOUR listening to this maniacal chirping and lamenting the plight of these poor creatures, who had been forced to sing at night because of the callous invasion of human society into their woodlands. 

When in reality, we were just listening to a very realistic alarm clock.  

Full Disclosure series...Battling the dreaded Rut

So, I've been in a rut these past few months.  The details aren't important, because every rut is the same: that horrible feeling of being stuck in a situation or series of habits that you want to change or want out of, but can't seem to move past. 

This current rut I'm in is draining my energy.  It leaves me in a foul, bleak mood at the end of the day, feeling very sorry for myself.  Then I get irritated that I'm sitting around complaining about being in a rut instead of getting back on my feet and doing something to get out of it! 

Sound familiar? 

Anyway, today I'm making the effort to take the first step out of this rut by posting some things that makes me feel happier and energized:

These are my beautiful hot pink zinnias.   They sit on my front steps and delight me every morning.  I love their color, their beautiful explosion of petals, and their cheerful yellow centers.  My dog totally photo-bombed this shot (see upper left hand corner), but that's okay because she makes me pretty happy too.  My early morning walks with her always leave me feeling more energized. 

I saw this quote on Pinterest this morning, and it resonated with me, especially considering my current rutty state:

"I am in charge of how I feel, and today I am choosing happiness."

I could sit around and continue to feel depleted by my situation, sorry for myself, and generally waaaaaah, OR I can choose to smile, take a deep breath, and see my rut as an opportunity for improvement and innovation, instead of a life-sucking black hole.

Today is going to be the day that I take the first step out of this rut.  Wish me luck!  And, if you have any advice on what you do to get yourself out of a rut, share it with me in the comments section.

xoxo,

MF

Full Disclosure Series: I'm a sucker

For pretty packaging, that is. This came in the mail last night, and now I'm pretty sure I need one of each of these. Because I love anything yellow and blue:

Modern Femme: Full Disclosure

So, as I was considering what to post about this morning, I got to thinking on how people present themselves to the world through social media.  We all try to write clever Facebook status updates, have witty tweets, take cool pictures through Instagram, or create our perfect lives on Pinterest.  It's so easy to pick and choose what you share with the world, to create the best version of yourself through the Internet and social media.  It's so easy to take yourself too dang SERIOUSLY.

We're going to try and keep it real here on Modern Femme.  Part of being a modern femme, after all, is knowing when to take yourself seriously, and when to laugh at yourself.  In that spirit, I am starting the Full Disclosure series, or as I like to think of it, a celebration of the imperfect.  I hope that you can not only come visit this blog to be entertained or inspired, but also to laugh a little at me.  Trust me, I can be a hot mess. 

1.  I have off weeks on what I blog about, whether it be menu planning or egg timer tricks or beauty routines.  There was a two week period where I would have rather stabbed my eyeballs out than look at any of my cookbooks.  I. Was. Sick. Of. Them.  I don't remember what we ate - probably a lot of pizza delivery - maybe even beer and cereal.

2.   I let my dog lick my kid's face.  It's totally gross and my husband hates it, but I just really want my dog to like my kid.  And so far my kid hasn't come down with any horrible disease.  Though I feel really bad about it every time I watch my dog lick the floor/her butt/lamp posts.

3.  I talk to myself.  Like, all the time.  In the shower, when walking the dog, etc.  It helps me work through stuff - whether it be a blog post I'm trying to craft, or a issue I'm trying to get to the bottom of.  My neighbors are probably used to it by now.  "There goes Mumbles," they say, shaking their heads, "poor thing, off her meds again."

4.  I'm a total TOTAL hypochondriac.  I once cancelled a fun day of social engagements because of a lump on my wrist that I was convinced was a...DA DUM DUM....tumor.  Wrist cancer people!  It could happen. My doctor practically laughed me out of his office.  My friends flat out laughed at me, period.  It was a cyst, by the way, in case you're wondering.  My uncle offered to smash it with a Bible.  I have supportive family members.

5.  I'm an impulsive spender.  I had a dream last night that I spent $400 on placemats and then - this is where it turned into a nightmare - had to go home and tell my husband.  Sadly, this situation is probably not *that* far off from reality. 

I'll stop there. But hey, don't you already feel a little bit better about yourself?  Or at least, that maybe you're not alone.  Hypochondriacs of the world, unite!  (But don't get too close, I think I'm contagious.)

Until next time, I remain imperfectly yours,
xoxo,
MF 

P.S. I can't spell the following words:  weird, lavender, necessary. If you see those words on my blog, you better believe spell check caught and fixed them before the post went up.  xo