#4StressfulWeeks – Week 3

Wouldn’t you agree that sometimes it’s the little things that make the most impact? When it comes to that theory in the realm of happiness; a single flower from a partner, a tight hug from a parent, a pasta picture frame from your pre-schooler, or a letter received in the mail from a friend. These or similar tiny actions surely remind the recipient how damn lucky they are. I remember when my oldest came home with this simple paper laminated bookmark he made for me at school when he was about 7 years old. Honestly, best gift EVER. 10 years later and I still cherish that gift as if it was the found Holy Grail treasure itself.  So, equally impactful are the small momentary nuances of everyday life, when piled up on each other, make giant doom impending mountains out of what should remain mole hills. Here are some of my odd ball mole hills. I’m sure you’ll be able to relate to some of these.

  1. I’m an extremely organized person, but for the life of me I can’t seem to be able to master the ability to organize my mail. How difficult can this task really be? I guess procrastination has something to do with it, so it continues to pile up. Currently, I think I have a full 2 weeks worth of mail in a basket on my vanity. Here’s the funny thing though, I bought that basket to organize my mail. Ironic, isn’t it?
  2. Don’t judge me, but along the lines of procrastination, I keep forgetting to set aside time to make all doctor appointments for the family. That’s kind of important,  huh?!   I know we should visit the dentist every six months. I promised myself of that the last time we saw him….almost 1 whole year ago. Maybe the pain in my tooth will start reminding me. I’m sure of it. You’re judging me, aren’t you?
  3. Simply put…my mind has to spread its wings and span wide from college applications (for my soon to be 17-year-old) to kindergarten registration (for my 5-year-old). What was I thinking???
  4. A family of five and flying to your vacation destination can never ever cohabitate under one cohesive possible thought.  Instead, we will venture in to a torturous 15 hour drive in a mini van with three kids and a dog. May God have mercy on my soul on the soul of my three boys. Who knows what underlying deep dark traits from within my own soul will surface and reveal themselves.
  5. I have this Kaboodle filled with beautiful glass bottles of nail polish, so many pretty colors.   The women adult equivalence to that of a kids 64 piece Crayola Crayon box. The one with a sharpener in the back. And yet my nails look like colorless crap. I give great manicures, but you’d never know by looking at my hands. And I refuse to go pay for one. Downright refuse.
  6. Work leads me to the Office. The Office leads me to Coworkers. Need I say more?
  7. And just today Evernote erased my latest assignment for Blogging University Writing101, assignment #11. All that work, POOF!!! Gone!!! ALL GONE!!!

I can’t be too bitter though. All these little “mountainous” details are still a reminder of how grateful I should be. A house, my family, teeth, the ability to go way on vacation, a good paying job with vacation days, awesome fellow bloggers, and pretty colorful bottles of nail polish.

Need I say more?

My last entry is going to be a doozy for this segment. I’ve been waiting and biting my colorless nails. But I’ve been patient. Truly, truly patient. Hope you’ll come back to read my #4 entry of #4stressfulweeks.

Until then, please enjoy all the small details. In the words of Author Richard Carlson – Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff.

#4StressfulWeeks – A Blogging Series

#4StressfulWeeks. A blogging series. 


Have you seen the new social network craze of #100happydays? A noble movement, to say the least, to encourage everyone to find daily happiness in the small things in life and then post up a daily picture recording and sharing it with the world. Beautiful isn’t it?

Well, THIS isn’t THAT!

What THIS is, is my way of embracing the ONE thing we all encounter in everyday life. Irregardless of who you are, where you live, or how old you are, we all have it. It’s a part of us. It’ll follow you to the ends of earth. It’ll disguise itself then pop up in your face like that annoying clown from a wind up jack-in-the-box toy. (I really hate clowns).  Doctors have agreed though that a balanced amount of it can actually be healthy for us.


Yes, if stress is such a permanent fixture in our lives, then why fight it? It’s probably one of those things that the more you fight against it, the more exhausted you become, the weaker you get, and hence “STRESS” wins, as the referee, pounding on the ground counts down your defeat.

If all of humanity is sharing Happy Pharrell  moments with each other, even random  strangers, in hopes to connect or impart, then ditto. My purpose here is to share my  everyday, grey hair, teeth grinding, pencil snapping stress inducers to connect with you, my fellow stressed out reader.


Sure, I am happy to have a car. I even “upgraded”, to my husband’s dismay, to a minivan for the extra room and comfort. I swear, his reaction to my request rivaled that to when he watched the infamous cold-blooded saw off the leg scene in the movie Saw. But with 3 growing boys it was a sacrificial welcome. Now, every kid has their own designated seat, methodically placed so as to avoid the whole “I’m not touching you” scenario. But if that was all it took to make all things right again in the world, then this post would be all wrapped up with a pretty pink bow. 

Damn it! This car has been a pain in my ass. Case in point, just this morning, we park in the commuter lot right before having to catch the bus to work. We step out of the car and hear a sudden hissing sound. What IS that? As we twist and search around like dogs chasing their tails, our eyes finally land on the back tire. We stand there like idiots with our jaws on the ground. We got a flat tire? What the hell? We didn’t hit any potholes on the way, no indication of tire imbalance. And in 5 seconds flat (pun intended) the tire was empty. No time for this crap now. We need to catch that bus. We’ll deal with everything tonight. Normally, this would be one of those “just a small bump in the road” moments (yes, another pun) IF we had the spare to use. But that would be too easy. As this day would make sure to remind us that there IS a hell on earth, the spare was occupying the other back tire. 

Fast forward to 7 pm. I’ll sum it up since my stress inducer here is the car itself and not the hell of what this day continued to be. All flat fix locations in the area are closed. Of course. We call a friend. He lends us a hand and his time. We pick up the kids at daycare and then head back to the car.  Use his air pump to locate a hole in the tire. None. Cool right? Nope. The tire air valve snapped. How does something like that even happen anyway? Either way, not something we could fix. Jump in to friends car, with tire and kids in tow (I’m filled with these today). Mother Nature decides to partake in this game and sends us a heavenly downpour as we drive half hour to Pep Boys. Not fun. Once there, the guy at the repair shop says that he doesn’t have our cars valve sensor in stock. This CAN’T be happening!  We plead with him for some type of resolution since we’d be without a car otherwise. This “angel” rips out our valve sensor and replaces it with a regular one, and then doesn’t even charge us for it. A little moment of reprieve? Back at the car, Mother Nature seems to have gotten somewhat pissed off because she upgraded the downpour to a flood watch level storm. Hubby finished changing the tire. Bid friend farewell. We’re all drenched by the time we get home. And all I can do is make a mental list of all the latest snafus, in an attempt to validate my contempt for this automobile.

  • The wipers snapped while scraping ice during one of our latest snowstorms. I swear, all I did was tap it. 
  • The ever so common (read sarcasm) pinhole in the radiator hose connector. Because of this, the antifreeze leaks and when it squirts against the engine the car starts to smoke. To get professionally replaced; $350.00. Pinhole is and will still be there. We seem to be getting used to the car being a chain smoker anyway.
  • The back sliding doors refuse to open after a snowstorm. Did the manufacturer even test this? I can’t believe that I have to climb over the front seats to get the kids strapped in. No easy task when we all look like Eskimos with clunky snow boots on, all the while trying to avoid getting snow on the seats. Ultimate FAIL.
  • Why does that damn engine light keep coming on? Mechanic said all is fine, but I can’t help but feel like she’s sticking out her symbolic tongue at me every time it lights up. She also seems to be flipping me the bird each time the words “change oil” flashes on the dash, even after we JUST got the oil changed.
  • Remember the spare already being used as the other back tire? Well, on our way to dropping off the kids to daycare one morning, of course we hit what I call a small pothole. My husband would debate that description entirely. It doesn’t matter who’s right or wrong here. (He’d debate that too). Outcome was still the same. This car must have the “Steve Rogers before turned Super Soldier” version of tires. Because we now had no ordinary flat. The entire metal frame bent like a pretzel, making it obsolete to even hold the rubber tire in place. And wouldn’t you know it… IT WAS RAINING! Mother Nature has a wicked, wicked sense of humor. We’re still waiting to receive the tire frame in the mail, the frame we had to search all of the Web for, so as to avoid the astronomical local costs for a new one. 
You know, I’m actually feeling a little better now that I’ve shared this with you (along with the 2 very relaxing glasses of Cabernet). Thank you for sticking through to the end. And given that my car is a doozy, I think I’ll close my 1st stressful week installment without adding any more “fuel” to the fire. (That’s the last one, I swear).

See you next week with my 2nd installment of #4StressfulWeeks. And may YOU TOO find a way to share your stress with all of humanity. (No way would 100 days of stress be possible… too stressful).

– Elke