Cold Coffee

Beauty blogger to be?

traceyleezle — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 03:47:02 +0000

Probably not, however, I wanted to pass something on. I have always had red skin, I’m pretty sure I have mild rosacea, although I’ve never been to a dermatologist to find out. My skin is very sensitive. I break out from so many different things. Mary Kay is something I won’t touch with a ten foot pole. Many cheaper cosmetics. Cleansers especially, even some of the ‘natural’ formulas. It is very rare for me to wash my face and not have it feel tight or itchy or burning or all of the above. Anything specifically geared towards acne usually burns my face and leaves me with an awful rash. Even with some of the really mild things I’ve used in the past every now and then my skin would pitch a fit and have a reaction.

Physicians Formula is a brand that I have never had a problem with, although until very recently, they’ve only made make up. This past fall (2011) they branched out into the cosmeceutical skincare market. They have three different formulas in their line. Their Sensitivity & Redness formula caught my eye.

Physicicans Formula – Skin Concern – Sensitivity & Redness

I picked up the moisturizer, as that’s usually the safest for me to try first. It is a very light formula, non greasy, and tinted mint green. I was very surprised at how well it moisturized for how light it is. And, as advertised, I did notice that my skin was less red right away. My skin felt great and I woke up the next morning with super soft skin. So I went back and grabbed the cleanser. I figured I would give it a try too. It’s great! Seriously, I don’t care if it ever diminishes my redness or not. Just the fact that I can use a cleanser that actually: cut through my make up, rinses clean without leaving an oily film on my face, rinses clean without leaving my skin feeling tight, is worth it. And it doesn’t hurt! This is the first time I can remember, even using the gentlest cleansers, where my face didn’t feel like I had scrubbed it with an S.O.S. pad when I was done. My face felt smooth, clean, and soft…and it wasn’t red. When I wash my face it’s always bright red when I’m done. Not this time. I think I’m going to pick up the rest of the line and maybe a couple products from the other formulas in the line. I’m curious to see if it will actually diminish the red in my skin over time. For now, I’m just happy to have something so gentle on my mug!

The only drawback is that you can only buy it online or at WalMart. WalMart is taking over the world.

A picture of me.

traceyleezle — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 19:32:44 +0000

With the new FB timelines you get to add a snazzy ‘cover’ picture to it. A lot of people are posting pictures of things that interest them, family, places where the live. Here’s mine, a picture of me.

This took several tries to get it right, and I really do think it’s pretty accurate. Although, I wish I had put a tube of hair glue in their somewhere.

Cherish every blessed moment

traceyleezle — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 16:54:10 +0000

You know how when you have kids, every now and again, someone will remind you to cherish each moment. Because the next thing you know they will be grown up, and you will be missing those days. My best friend and I were just asking if we really had to cherish every moment? Because there are some moments that I am so ready to not cherish. Like the time Finn wiped poop on the bathroom wall. Or when I put Finn in timeout and he’s crying and Seannan decides to come over and put his nose on the wall and I shoo him away and he starts crying because he *wants* to be in timeout. Or how about those days when you didn’t get enough sleep and your kids have you up at the butt crack of dawn and you just want to go back to bed. Yep. Apparently, women get really bored once their kids grow up, because you’ve got to be bored to look back on those moments and cherish them. Or maybe it’s just that at that point our children have turned our brains to Spam.

When life gives you leftovers

traceyleezle — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 20:37:24 +0000

Make fried rice! I always feel bad for those lonely bits of leftover rice floating around in the fridge. It seems the only thing they ever get added to, other than the compost heap, is soup. How boring! Today, they got turned into a delicious lunch thanks to my new wok.

Oh man was it good. I literally just grabbed things out of the fridge/freezer and started tossing it in my wok. I started with some peanut oil and a few drops of sesame oil, and got my wok good and hot. Then I tossed in the rice and mixed it well with the oil. While I was letting that cook I dug out a tiny bag of frozen peas and carrots that was just hanging out in the freezer and chucked them in. Next went in a lone can of bean sprouts from the cupboard. I normally prefer fresh sprouts, but these weren’t too bad. I finished it off with some chopped green onions, garlic, soy sauce, a dash of hot sauce and salt and pepper. I have found that with food cooked in a wok, you really need to go big with the flavor. The food is cooked over super high heat, so it’s cooked fast, and you really don’t have a lot of time to let the flavors meld, as you do with other styles of cooking. It’s go bold or go home. Mmmm!

Would the real Tracey, please stand up

traceyleezle — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 14:14:34 +0000

A friend commented to me last night, about how much I have changed since she met me several years ago. And I told her, this is more like the real me, than the person you met back then. It got me thinking, why do I do that? I try so hard to fit in with a certain group of people, or a certain lifestyle. I adapt all these things that just aren’t me, trying so hard to be something I’m not, because I think that’s what someone wants me to be or needs me to be. I keep going until I’m so frustrated and miserable that I blow up, shake it all off, and get back to being me. And the stupid part is, the people that I care about the most, are still there, when all that’s left is Tracey, The Original. The ones that fall away, never really mattered in the first place. It’s so stupid and I do it time and time again. I get so stuck in my own head, and try so hard to press myself into a mold. I just end up making myself miserable.

The thing is, I like me. Granted, I’m not perfect, and there are things about me that I don’t like. That’s normal, and ok, none of us are perfect, we’d all like to make a few changes in our life. I’m just tired of thinking that I need to be someone else, for the people in my life to love me. I’m me, either you like me, or you don’t. It’s time that I realize that, and be ok with it.

Seannan Snuggles

traceyleezle — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 15:26:55 +0000

I was talking to my sister yesterday about the unbelievable high quality snuggles that Seannan delivers. She asked what was it that made them so special and boy, it’s hard to put your finger on it. It’s so many things. It’s the way he just melts into you like butter. Like he just really needs to be part of you. It’s how he decides that you need a Seanny Snuggle right this second, and no matter what you were doing, you realize you actually did need a Seanny Snuggle and you didn’t even know it. It’s those beautiful, chubby little hands reaching up, to be picked up, and that smile, and the twinkle in his eyes, and those chubby little cheeks. It’s how he stops mid-snuggle to look up at you with this look that says, “Now, isn’t that better?” and then buries his face back in your neck. It’s how perfectly his little body fits against mine when he just decides to flop down on me when I’m lying in bed. I love when he’s feeling extra snuggly, and he head butts you gently with his wee little noggin’ like a little bear. Hence the nickname Seanny Bear. Seanny takes his snuggling very seriously, it’s not just a quick hug in passing. And no one is exempt, he will dive bomb stuffed animals, the cat, blankets, piles of laundry fresh out of the dryer. I love that Seanny doesn’t want to snuggle, he *needs* to snuggle. When he wakes up from his nap, whoever goes in and gets him has to spend the next ten minutes being snuggled while Seanny wakes up enough to reenter the day. I’m sure he will be so happy with me for saying this when he’s older, but Seanny is so squishy. He’s got the perfect build for snuggling. I’m sure one day, sooner rather than later, he will lose that baby chub. So I’m going to take as many Seanny snuggles as I can get.

Dear Finnigan

traceyleezle — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 19:18:12 +0000

Dear Finnigan,

Today was a hard day for mama. It was full of big grown up things. Decisions that needed to be made, but were scary to make. It was full of phone calls and looking for things on the internet. Mama is sick. Not in the way that you can see. I don’t have a temperature or a runny nose or a cough. I have something that’s not working the way it’s supposed to in my brain. I know that it’s hard to understand, and that some people may treat me differently for saying that, but that’s what it is. Mama decided to take a medicine today that will help me feel better. I don’t like it, but I wouldn’t be a very good mama or a good wife to Daddy or very good to myself if I didn’t. Today was a really hard day for mama. You made it easier. You reminded me that even if I don’t feel like taking care of myself, I have to, for you and Big Sissy, and Little Brother. So thank you. Thank you for the sweet moments that help erase the hard, scary moments. Like when we were snuggling before your nap today, and you gave me one of your blankies. Then you showed me how I was supposed to snuggle it with one hand and you insisted I suck my thumb with the other hand. (I can just hear my parents groaning, no worries, after many years of being off the thumb, I really don’t understand what the big deal was.) It was sweet. You are sweet. I’m going to do everything in my power to take care of myself, so I can take care of you.

Love,

Mama

Depression

traceyleezle — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 14:45:32 +0000

I have depression. I am dealing with it again. It has reared it’s ugly head in my life several times before. I hate it. I hate the social stigma attached to it. I hate the medical communities way of just throwing pills at it. I hate that to get any help at all it’s going to cost more money than I can afford, so I won’t get the help I need. Or, to be seen somewhere that I can afford there is a waiting list that is months and months long. I hate the fact that it’s taken me months to admit to myself that, yes, your depression is back. I hate how I feel. I hate how it colors everything I see and I can’t tell if something is really that crappy, or if it’s just my depression talking. I hate that there are people out there who think it’s not a real illness, that it’s all in our heads. I hate that there are Christians who think that because you are a Christian you should just be filled with so much joy that depression wouldn’t even be possible in your life. People just don’t understand how simple little things, even things that would help, are so hard to do. I remember when I had postpartum depression, a friend called me one day and said, “Hey, are you busy tomorrow? No? Great, I’m coming to take care of you and the kids for the day.” and she did. She showed up and brought lunch, she made me take a nap and watched the baby and folded my laundry and cleaned my living room, and made us dinner and had it on the table just as she was walking out the door so I didn’t feel like I had to “entertain”. It was the most wonderful thing because even to pick up the phone and say, “Help me, please.” was so hard.

Depression sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I am not one of those people who can just “take a pill” and feel better. I tried it, I felt better and worse at the same time. The side effects were nearly as bad as the depression. And I knew it was just putting a band aid over a bullet wound. I do know there are things that would help me, like going to the gym again, but feeling exhausted all the time from depression, yeah it’s just a big fat vicious cycle. Taking my supplements, but that would require me to remember to do so. I want off this merry go round.

eta: Without going into a lot of detail, I’ve taken steps to get myself on the road to recovery.

A safe place

traceyleezle — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 04:48:58 +0000

I love my blog. It’s a place to share. Sometimes though, because it’s so public, it’s inadequate. When things in my mind and heart get too heavy, I can’t talk about it here. Too many familiar eyes. Too many judgmental glances. There are things that I could use advice about, but I don’t dare talk about it here. Sometimes, like tonight, I’d give anything for a safe place to talk.

What ifs

traceyleezle — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 14:25:17 +0000

I didn’t sleep well last night. I was visited by specters of my past. Very Dickensian, I know, but there it is. Specters of my past which make me question my present. I made the same decision I always make, to leave the past and continue on to the future. It’s odd though, as dreams like this occur quite often for me. So, my dear subconscious, why do you keep bringing it up? Why is it in my sleep you are pestering me with ‘what if’ and ‘why that’? Is there something that I should have done differently? Was there a fork in the road where I should have went left instead of right? Well my dear, it’s much too late for that. And the reality is this, I made my choice, so can we please get back to the dreams of Spock and Doctor Who and strange, dark mysterious native Americans and shoe shopping with an endless budget? Thank you.