Sugar Overload (stuuupid cookies)

You might be done, but I am not.  

My birthday is next week (on January first if you are wondering).  So, I am in somewhat suspended holiday until then, when I can

resume "normal" life.

What the hell does that mean.  I just typed it, I know.  But "resume 'normal' life"?  WTF? Haven't I been around long enough (guess not) to know there is NO SUCH THING?

There is a lot of change, a lot of upheaval and I am so, so, so happy that this is winter, when I can transition in private. –Click to Tweet.  (Oh, except for this blog). 

What do you want/need for your post-holiday recovery?

I want to EAT VEGETABLES, DRINK WATER, SHOWER and HAVE A CLEAN SINK.

Why wait, there is squash soup and a tall glass of water waiting for my attention.  Tomorrow?  A brisk walk, fresh air in my lungs, and a hot new nau jacket.

Plan Your Tomorrow, Do It Today

Don't let your emotions wildly change your course of action.  Right? Like, if I wake up in a confused and shitty ass mood, should I let it define my day?  Can I get a "Hell No"? 

I mean, yes, emotions are important.  Taking time for yourself is important. But for right now, bear with me.  Forward motion is important and achieving the goals you set for yourself is important.  

So don't let your day get all caught up in your shit. (Click HERE to Tweet)

At least not when you've got business to attend to!

Before you leave the office/stop working/ go to sleep make a list of three things that ABSOLUTELY MUST GET DONE TOMORROW.  Leave the list when you'll see it right when you settle in.  Whenever and wherever this is.  (If you don't have this place/time, you should probably deal with that too.)

When you arrive at the moment of doingstuff-ness, do the things on your list.  

Like, before you check your email, or open up three thousand browser windows, or read this post.

Then if you fuck off for the rest of the day, well, so what. (Click HERE to Tweet)

I mean, not that I am giving you permission.  But...

The moral here that if you wait till morning, till you are "ready" to work, then you will have to spend too much delicious working time deciding what to work on.  If you have predetermined what needs your attention, then you are freed from that decision.  You are free to actually begin your day, rather than just consider beginning your day.  Action, babes.

You also have some super sweet forward motion, like, on a daily basis.

Attainable goals, we got you, bitches. (Click HERE to Tweet)

-HWG

Blurred Lines. Clear Vision.

So a few weeks ago we had this great birthday and housewarming party.  I like this new house for gatherings.  I am very sorry you weren't invited – I am not all that great at planning events.  (Confession to yet another thing I am not great at!)

Ever since then I can't stop thinking about the lines of relationships and honesty and exposure. (Click HEREto Tweet)

I know this:  

I don't take friends on as clients. 

But some of my clients do become my friends.  Is this okay?  Is it okay for them?  Is it okay for me?  Does it jeopardize our professional relationship?  How honest can I be in our friendship, really?   It's frustrating sometimes that this job doesn't come with any

hard and fast rules.

If fact, I am blurring the lines daily it feels.  But what lines are these and who made them?

I asked my mother and she said just posting to this blog is over-sharing.  Is it?   And?

We do like over-sharing these days, don't we?  A part of it helps people.  And that's enough for me.

Unpredictable and Demanding:: I Am These

These words are stuck on my tongue.  I'm stuck on loop.  I keep tripping over these words.  Tripping up on these words:

Unpredictable.  Demanding.

I use them to describe my son.

It's not very nice of me.  

And then there I am, in the shower, alone.  For the first time in months.  Maybe longer. And I realize that this baby, this boy, is JUST.LIKE.ME.  My daughter (now three) was a dream.  Easy, fun, soft.  Now these harsh words I have for my son – unpredictable, demanding – they are so me.  He is just a little mirror.  He is high need.  His need is high for me.  He wants to be looked at, paid attention to.  Can you blame him?  Can you blame me? 

But unpredictable can be beautiful.  

And demanding can be brazen but true.  

What words describe you right now, today? 

Actually, You Can't Have It All

Work and motherhood is a balance blah blah blah blah.

Bullshit.

You can't be the mother you want to be and be the business woman you want to be.  It's too wide of a straddle.  One foot on the boat, one on the dock.

It's uncomfortable, it's imperfect.  It's my life.

Sometimes I think I suck at both.  That's just a thought.  Sometimes I think I rock at both, that's just a thought.

But, I will never be the 100% mother.  I'll always love my work. And I'll never be 100% business woman.  I'll always love my family.  It crushes my soul and inspires me simultaneously. I day dream about the lecture circuit, the amazing endeavors I would take on sans kids, how successful I know I could be, how powerful.  And then I look at their faces while they sleep and I know a night away from them when they are this small is not for me.  

It is about choice.  And the flip side of choice is sacrifice.  And we grieve the loss of the beautiful virgin on the altar.  

But we celebrate her life and the rains the sacrifice brought.

This will always be my story.  The straddle.  The never-quite-one-thing.  The half mom and half business person.  The half hippy and half yuppie.  

The sacrifice, the balance, the choice, the surrender.

But always starting here, with me.  With the truth, with brave honesty, authenticity and growing experience.

Do you want to show up with the same?  Do you want to balance and straddle and bend and sacrifice and grow and learn and leap?  Work with me, and let's figure out how you can be the best you.  I'll continue to show up here so you can learn a little bit about my story too.

THIS (here and now) Is Where The Work Begins

On August 23rd my son was born.  On September 13th my daughter turned three.  On September 23rd I was married for seven years.  On October 30th we bought our third piece of property and moved.  The next 6 weeks are my busiest of the year.  One of my mother's best friends just died. 

This is where the work begins.

We used to live in a loft and smoke cigarettes in bed.  Anxieties ran high. Responsibilities ran low.  Or so I now see.

The thing is,

I am no longer living MY life.

Well, I never was.  You aren't living your own life.  We are, each of us, participants in so many lives.  

I am creating a life, yes.

          I am shaping lives, yes.

                     I am sharing experiences, yes.

                                  I am peering through windows into lives I would never otherwise see.

So with each tantrum (mine, mostly) in all of these terribly tender, tricky moments I try to remember that:  

I am only a participant in this moment. 

It is not MINE to control.  Step back, Hannah.  Release it.  Experience it.  But for gosh sakes, stop getting so darn caught up and over thinking it.

Forward always.

THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU

Yes, yes, I know.  Contrived.  Predictable. 

But, FUCKING GENUINE.

Seriously, thank you for showing up here and reading.  I know you are.  I have site statistics and know there are between 100-800 of you.  I don't know who you are (well, except you, mom), but, thank you.

It's a little odd to be this public.  This honest.  This open.  It's embarrassing.  

I alternate between feeling badass and like and asshole.

I worry, what will my grandmother think?  Should I curse this much? What will my clients think?  Will my daughter read this?  Could I be arrested?  Will I get a stalker?  Do you know where I live?  Do they want to know anyone this well? Am I a waste of internet space? Yarp, I think all of these things JUST LIKE YOU.  But I let them float by.  I try not to get hung up.  I try to push forward and keep TRUSTING and BELIEVING that if I am really, truly, honestly as much me as I can be–that I will speak to a place inside you where judgement is forbidden. 

So, THANK YOU for creating and holding space for me, virtually.  It's my true hope that my attempt to reconcile my whole self here in front of you will inspire you to do some of the same.  Be You. Be the best you that you can.  

Be honest and hope and fucking pray that they/he/she/I will love you anyway. 

Happy Thanksgiving, folks.

Do Not Let It Fall Into Place

It's really easy to get stuck.  I don't want you to eat the same thing for breakfast everyday. Patterns are good.  Patterns are the enemy.  I am conflicted.  

Both statements are true.

Spread your wings.  Do something different.  Burst the bubble of familiarity.

And yet, familiarity makes us comfortable, keep it stable, allows us to stretch in new ways.  From that solid foundation of knowing what you will wear, you can branch out and confront new people.  Like that stuffed animal, the constant companion–with it by your side there are no monsters.

This week, we give thanks for each.

 For the Newness.  For the Sameness. For the Balance.

Do The Same Things Everywhere

When my mom and I drive through towns we always wonder:

"What do the people DO here?"

I am starting to wonder that about myself.  What is life really made of?  Do my quote-unquote accomplishments matter? Does anyone notice if I wash the dishes? 

I know I think too much.

I've noticed, thanks.  But seriously, moment after moment after moment.  This is life.  Just stringing the bits together. 

Here I am, now on the East Side of Providence, still asking the same questions.  Still trying to figure out what the heck I am doing.

This morning's answer sponsored by Emerging Energy Acupuncture: I am off to make banana bread. 

Do the Dirty Work

Yes, love, there is sweetness.  Yes, love, there are flowers.  There's red lipstick and

lace panties

(yes,underwear jealousyis a theme for me right now.) 

Yes, dear, there are sunsets, lazy with tea and wine.  Yes, dear, there are sleepy mornings, fog rolling in, down ensconced.

We heart these lovelies.  We embrace the moments between the sweat and the tears.  Or, at least, we try. 

But there is also the dirty.   

There's the dog shit, the cat puke, the kids screaming and the

damn sun rising too soon.

There's the never-glam scrubbing of tiles.  The making of the money, the driving to the bank, the carrying the groceries to the car, the cutting the toenails.  There is the everyday and the mundane

and the sudden and beautiful and wild.

 Somehow, these things have gotta learn how to share space.  How to dance with each other, spinning and spinning through this thing called life.

There is something beautiful about bearing witness to the grunt labor.  Those business women sitting there entering line item after line item in their quickbooks.  Those mama's bouncing babes on their hips while pushing mops, folding clothes.  Those masons stacking brick after brick, building the foundation of a home.  In the basic tasks of life, there is freedom, there is routine, there is good, old fashioned hard work.  

Today I am tired of the lazy.   Annoyed at the self-righteous.  Frustrated at the spoiled.

Go out and work, people.  Only then do you deserve to rest. 

(or trick or treat) 

Want to read more?  

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