I am not judging you if you went to Starbucks and quickly snagged the Unicorn drink. Mad props to them for an awesome marketing idea. That said, sugar and my child do not exactly blend well (see what I did there.. frap.. blend…).
A few inspiring posts later from some health-coach friends and here is the result!
This was super easy, as are most smoothies, because you literally just throw things in a blender and go.
Tips:
Add the frozen fruit on top – if you put it all in the bottom your blender will get jammed up (this was a live and learn thing – it had been awhile since I made a smoothie).
If you add the sprinkles to a small amount of yogurt and then let it warm up, it will be drippy. If you want it to hold a bit firmer, stir it right before you use it (think how ice cream would melt). I “painted” mine right after stirring them together.
Definitely call it “the Unicorn Drink” when you give it to kids. This is half the magic. Wrap them up and make them feel like this is a complete treat. Both of my kids were freezing today so I put them in the bathtub with this drink.
One full glass later, my son was asking for another and wanted to have the “Unicorn Drink” in his lunch this week. This is kind of a miracle because my son doesn’t love to eat and clearly, the drink was as tall as his head.
This was a win for our family – two kids with very different tastes (none of which include spinach), sprinkles, asking for more, easy bath time and nutrition for a snack. Yes, yes, yes.
Those Starbucks marketing gurus – thank you for the inspiration. If my kids didn’t go absolutely bonkers on sugar, we may never have found this new family favorite!
Feel free to post your versions of this drink in the comments below.
Ready for about the fastest essential oil tip ever?
Take an air filter, add some drops of your essential oil of choice and bam – instant house fragrance without the use of candles or synthetic sprays/plug ins/etc.
Reapply as the scent fades and depending on the oils you use, less is often more.
We are a huge peppermint and lavender house but to each their own.
And of course, research oils before use.
Interested in essential oils and unsure where to start? Message me and I would be happy to get you more information.
My Dear Friend… I see you. I hear you. I read your words.
And because I have been there, I understand you wake up to an all consuming battle and it takes more strength and self determination than anyone knows to simply get up and do the everyday. There are times you don’t have the energy to actually take any of the suggestions you know would help you. And sometimes, your mind convinces you that you are not worth it.
THAT IS A LIE. That voice is trying to kill you. That voice is full of manipulative bullshit that wants to overcome you. But I get it – those who haven’t been there will say “don’t listen to it,” but IT IS YOUR MIND. How do you not hear your own mind?
I recall putting a name to the critical voice that replayed over and over again. It was easier to feel it, name it and separate that from my purpose. No, it didn’t cure me … but it helped to recognize it as untruth. Once, prior to re-vamping my bedroom, my mom and I painted words of strength (and anger) at this voice. I clearly remember writing “fuck you, ed” on my wall.
You are not the convincing lies of that voice.
You are a kind-hearted person. You post pictures of helping animals and getting to know others who are not like you – to spread acceptance and love. You share beautiful art, dance, music. You inspire with stories about seeing beyond the surface. And you do more than that…
You tell your story.
Do you know how much courage that takes? You let the world in and say, “if you can’t accept me in my worst position, you are not worthy of my friendship.” You invested in yourself.
There are people out there struggling silently. You said, “I will be your voice. I will let you know you are not alone. I will love you regardless if you are made up and smiling or not and if you are smiling, I will not assume your eyes are also. I will search for your hidden truth and I will let you know I am safe to talk to if you are not as you appear.”
My friend, I want you to know I see you. I see your heart. I see your fight. I see you trying. I see you expose your hard days and reach out. I see the courage it takes to expose the vulnerability. That is extremely brave – it is so much easier to hide it and let it gobble you up. I see you stepping beyond that.
And my friend, I want you to know I hear you. I hear your cries and your pain. I hear your voice and it is beautiful and real. I hear your care and it touches all types. I hear your frustration. I hear you picking yourself back up off the ground. I hear your work.
Above all of this… there is one thing I really, really want you to know.
YOU ARE WORTH IT.
You are worth this fight. You are worth the battle. You are worth overcoming the critical voice in your head. You are worth the tears. You are worth the frustration. You are worth the mess.
Life sucks sometimes. Life can be overwhelming and feel like quicksand, engulfing, suffocating and pulling you under. And life can be beautiful. Life can be mesmerizing and inspiring and supply a depth beyond the encasing of the body and world.
In the drowning parts, try to remember it can be impossible to see through a storm but that doesn’t mean it won’t end. Just as we wouldn’t judge a person who happens to live in an area an earthquake hit, your storm doesn’t make you less than or unworthy. It means that for this moment, it sucks beyond a level that can give any justice in words.
It also means there is a side after the storm. As we see time and time again, there are people who will hold out their hands and through the clean up, a stronger, more unified and connected bond develops. This is true for you also. Yet, I know, the after-matter doesn’t help to make the pain less of living in that moment…
Get it out of you, put it on paper, meditate, create, run, do anything to let it out. Acknowledge it. Tell the fucker in your head “not today. I got your number. I hear you trying to kill me and not today – jackass, not today.”
And every time you brush yourself off, every time you reach out, every time you recognize it – allow yourself that victory.
Your mind will tell you you failed because you slipped.. please, let me repeat – THAT IS A LIE. That is the voice..that is the one that hates you. You wouldn’t tell your child who fell learning to ride his bike that he failed. You are that child. Every time you get on the bike, despite if you fall or not, you are learning and succeeding and growing in mind and body. Allow yourself that humanity.
And know we are here. We are here even when we don’t know how to help. I had to decide a million times over again I was worth the fight; no one else could convince me that I was – I had to decide it. When I read your words, even when they are just saying “depression sucks,” I see you making a choice to call this out as what it is. This is Depression. This is not You.
You are beautiful.
You are worth it.
You are strong.
You are loved.
You are needed.
You are important.
You are helping others by shining light on the dark.
You are inspiring.
You are generous.
You are caring.
You are supportive.
You are open.
You are a safety net for others.
You are kind.
You are true.
I am thankful for your words.
I am here if you need to just talk.
;
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And because she is one who seems to get this message…
A few days ago, as I scanned a school hallway to make sure I knew where my daughter, her friend, and my “get-away” second child were, a friend stopped me. She had read my blog. To my surprise, what I assumed would be small talk turned out as first glance to be praise. She said she loved it (thank you!!!). Then it got a little deeper.
“Thank you. I know it probably can be a bit much,” I giggled out. I have never been really great at just letting the compliment settle in.
“No, really,” she went on. “It is just that my friends always tell me I am too real; too honest. I wear what I am feeling too much on my sleeve. It was refreshing to read it.” This I was not expecting.
“Well, I just think… there are plenty of perfectly made up people playing the part. I just…” sometimes searching for the right words in the moment fail me miserably…so I tried again. “I just, I think people need to know that others feel what they do. They need to know they relate.“
What she said replayed in my mind for the last few weeks. In our most poignant, telling moments, life can paint the memory. True to this, when I think about that moment, her face is clear as the day she stood in front of me. A sign I should be listening to the lesson.
So what purpose and meaning did this brief interaction pose that made is so prominent? For me, there is one solid lesson it came to – we need to be real.
The battle of a facade and the exposure of depth. To reveal what is true is to risk criticism. To blend, be pleasant and likable is to feign perfectionism. The balance is to recognize the tug-of-war between both sides and yet, I repeat, we need to be real.
We need to see the pain. We need to share the tears. We need to laugh so hard we snort. We need to expose our insecurities. We need to show ourselves overcoming. We need to let the wounds breathe. We need to allow the compliments. We need to ask for help. We need to be the first to give it.
Know, please know, I don’t care what shape you come to me in. I want your heart; I want your truth. The good, the bad, the deep, the contemplative, the confused, the happy, the everything. We were given emotions, truths, pain, and strength. It all can get so mixed up when we are trying to fit what the molds say are best. Don’t be the mold. Be who you are. Be YOU.
Truth bomb – this year has sucked. 2017 has delivered it’s share of punches and many others have it worse. Despite it all, I get up. I put on clothes. I drive to work. I put one foot in front of the other. I move forward.
It isn’t always easy. What makes this possible is knowing I do not have to be perfect. If I don’t have makeup on, those that matter don’t care. If my hair is in a ponytail for the third day, no judgments are made. When my nose is bright red from crying and I am doing all I can to type, a message will come through saying “I’m there for you.” During the times I spend three hours on a bed because a new item has brought me to tears, hugs are given and books are read together under the covers.
Life isn’t made for the weak but it is a lie that weakness is showing what you feel. To show your breaking points, to show your excitement, to expose any part of your inner self is strength because in a second someone could tell you how wrong it was for you to do just that. Be brave.
Find those who allow all of you, that relish in who you are..the real you. Perhaps at one time, the carefully placed perfect walls were needed. In those times, we grew, but find those individuals that don’t require them. Invest in those people. Those are your crew, your tribe, your besties, your people. They will fail you from time to time, as you will them. Allow that and allow the make up. Realness comes with risk and pain but the payoff is worth it.
Face reddened by emotion,
her eyes scoured the gym for her mom.
As obvious as the pipe cleaner hanging from her ear, she
was trying to keep it together.
Just as she spied her sanctuary,
her waterlogged eyes met mine
and carried the weight of a crushed spirit,
perhaps not yet broken, but pierced.
Mending a soul now became her mother’s work
deepened by the words of the scratched record
repeating over and over to be heard by
her daughter’s ears alone.
What biting, damning secrets did those silent
knives carve into her?
Did he even care?
Would his parents?
Youth shapes and shifts the course….and the
best taught lessons are privy to the
unobserved voice of a stranger.
Does its owner recognize another’s suffering?
Empathy is lost to anger when words
no longer are recognized as power.
Or is this Survival of the Fittest where
the winners learn the lesson of becoming Hard?
Intentional or not, a day will be where the one
in tears causes another’s.
Youth is a playground to entice away from
the known, the safe, the kind.
Today’s tears to be used, in time, as medicine or venom,
for growth, creation or drowning.
To be swallowed in self loathing or
to be welding to a new, protective tool.
The impossible task of ensuring a masterpiece
still be created, with brushes missing
bristles and half used dry paint,
now is handed to the mother.
But broken walls and ripped canvases can
hold Beauty.
Fallen trees can be used to build houses
or to light the darkness.
At nine years old, an unfolding subconsciously begins.
Will it lead to a shell, an exterior so
tough that in time a human connection
seems trivial and a luxury of those untouched?
Or the opposite…to forgiveness and the recognition
to Love, to Live, encompasses and understands
pain… and scars are bi-products
in sorting out Experience.
The choice begins and we are all responsible
Do we wrap our arms around the invisible wound,
allowing it to seep out until time to heal…
or stare at it and ignore the very essence of being human.
Humanity is not found in the unfeeling, the numb.
Alcohol can serve that purpose.
Strength is found in the engulfing,
uncomfortable and welcomed connection.
At nine years old, her eyes met mine.
With pursed lips and sad eyes,
I gave her the only gift I could, an understanding smile.
We are the Survivors of Youth.
and it’s Ours to teach her how to be.
