Saturday, May 30, 2009

You Want Me To Do What?


So I needed print ready pictures of myself to help promote the book. Sounds easy enough until you realize that the picture with the book in front of my face, is usually what I am most comfortable with. I am not crazy about looking at my own face. I admit that my insecurities run pretty deep, so I have been genius at ignoring my own face. Wrinkles, blemishes and imperfections are of no consequence to me, until I am forced to deal with them. Yesterday I was forced to deal with them. Oooooooooh.


I got the book in my hot little hand and it all started to sink in how fortunate I have been to have the opportunity to do this at all. The great side to all this is doing what I love to do. The down side is this. Pictures of me and constant self promotion. This is what terrifies me the most. I envy the folks out there who stand tall in front of all kinds of cameras completely comfortable with their own image. I'm 46 years old and have never been all that comfortable standing behind a camera let alone in front of one. My thinking is at my age it may not get any better.

I am, however, completely comfortable talking to 1 or 100 people at any given time. i enjoy face time with others because I am focused on them, not me. I delve into other people's faces and expressions and their eyes that tell their story. I am a watchful person, exploring the expressions of others, as a way to get to know them better. I am not a critical eye, though. I don't judge people on their appearance. That is not where my detail oriented eye goes to. I don't care if you are over weight, dye your hair or have giant boils on your face. What I look for is sincerity, kindness and decency in soft eyes and expressive looks. I watch for sadness, happiness, curiosity and empathy.

So, what's my hang up about me? I have no clue. I am like everybody else I guess, in that I am not so certain about my face that I like displaying it all over town. I have the same worry lines showing up in every photograph of me as any other person who feels the twinges of insecurity.

I don't fish for compliments, as they too, make me uncomfortable. If it were up to me my face would be blank. But that too made me think. I know for a fact that people often gravitate to me because of a certain look I may have on my face. I know my own sincere expressions appear when I feel folks and what they are going through. My eyes, my favorite thing about me, appear on the cover of the book, not my entire face. I did that not out of vanity or insecurity, but rather because they truly are the windows to my soul. Corny? Yes, but very true. My eyes were what I used the most in order to figure out my own path, whether it was watching my kids, seeing my friends or looking at my beloved husband. Look into my eyes and you will know in an instant what I am thinking or feeling in any given moment. You don't need to gander at my entire puss to know I am happy, sad, indifferent or amused.

I went to the photo session with little expectations and treated it as a part of my job as if I were having to type out a finished draft. In the end Mike and I had fun with it because we got a very lovely young girl photographer, who had a great sense of humor. We laughed and played and I made a general fool of myself and forgot about the unnecessary pressure I was putting on myself to try and look perfect when clearly, I am anything but. The pictures came out pretty good and definitely good enough for my work purposes. The best part was I felt like I looked like me. In the end, the eyes have it!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

I Am Grateful Beyond Words


I am grateful beyond words to my family for all the sacrifices they have made in order for me to take the time and write this book. There is no real way to express how fortunate I am in my life having the friends and family I do, who have all pitched in and helped me do what I love. I had originally thought that once I got the book in my hands I would cry and be touched by just seeing it come to life. But in truth I was eerily quiet and just stared at it. I was happy, don't get me wrong, but I was also puzzled at my own reaction. I expected something quite different.
Then it hit me this morning. I did end up crying tears of joy, not because of what I had accomplished, but rather at the love and support I have gotten this entire time by the company Booksurge who is producing the book, by my family who went through time and money sacrifices and of course my dear friends who have cheered me on. I am so incredibly touched by the amount of wonderful people who have graciously given of their time and love and knowledge. It never ceases to amaze me how kind and generous people are giving freely of themselves to me. If ever there was a person who was blessed, it is certainly me.
I tell my kids all the time that nobody owes you anything. Every day, every breath, every kind, decent and wonderful thing you experience is a gift. My book proves that point so eloquently. Without the support of those around me my writing would never amount to anything, except mounds of spiral notebooks. Because of my personal community I now have the chance to hopefully touch someone's life in a positive way the same as my life has been touched. Dreams really do come true, but not without the love and support of those around you. This has been a total community effort.
Thank you to everybody who has helped me, said an encouraging word, extended a helpful hand and allowed me the opportunity to do what I love. This has been the greatest privilege of my life. If this book reaches one person and makes them laugh or cry or best of all, feel grateful, then I will know that I am success, regardless of facts or figures.
To all of you who have read my writing and encouraged me to continue, thank you from the bottom of my heart!
Tomorrow night when Michael and I pop the champagne cork we will look at each other and toast all of you. Here's to us and the next part of our wild ride!

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Hold On

I have a song stuck in my head. The group Kansas has a song, an admittedly old song, that has stuck itself in my brain and I can't stop singing, humming or thinking about it. The song is called Hold On. The chorus goes something like this,

"Hold on, Baby hold on, 'cause you're closer than you think and you're standing on the brink; Hold on, Baby hold on cause there's something on the way and your tomorrow's not the same as today."

Right now in my household, that sums up where most, no strike that, all of us are. We are standing on the brink. Not to be confused with the edge of the cliff. We have been putting out fires now for more than a few years. Granted, it's taken a toll, but I think we are standing on the brink of something breaking wide open for all of us. Maybe it's the book, or graduation, or the perfect job for somebody or just figuring out the answer to some burning life question. Whatever it is is headed straight for us. I feel it to my bones.



Michael and I have so much broken stuff in the last few months it's laughable. Truth is not only stranger than fiction, it's funnier, too. Quite literally every time we fix one thing, another breaks. Since March here's what has broken down: The wiener, Schnitzel, with a broken back and paralyzed legs. He's walking again after being crated and carried for 2 months. The washer and the very next day after it was fixed the dryer broke leaving us with a gas leak. The car broke. We lived as a 1 car family for 3 weeks. The computer quit leaving me stranded without an occupation or way to connect to the book. The pool needed refurbishing and would not wait another year. And then there was last night...



We had a relatively quiet and uneventful Memorial Day. The kids, all except Christine were home. Betty had to work and we just had hotdogs and hamburgers. The lawn needed mowing and when Betty tried to start the lawnmower, it made horrendous noises and refused to comply. Unphased, I told her it was probably flooded and the lawn could wait. Michael had come home from work and tried to start it and realized it was something more than just flooded. As we talked in the kitchen getting ready for dinner I noticed the there was no hot water. Mike went up in to the roasting hot attic to see what he deal was. For those of you who don't live in the south, our hot water heater is in the attic due to we have no basements. After further inspection he found a corroded valve on the top of the tank and the water heater was leaking at the top. It's only 7 years old. He turned off the water to the tank and let it go until he could get to the hardware store and try and fix it. I told the boys to either use our shower, on a separate tank, or take cold showers. My son Dan opted for the closer cold shower rather than drag all his stuff downstairs. That's when the fun really began.

I was in the kitchen and had just baked brownies for the kids. My darling girl, Keri, wanted chocolate and I can refuse her nothing. Keri isn't my birth child, she is one of my many "adopted" kids. I had just served her and Tom their just desserts when the florescent light fixture above the cook top began leaking water. The plastic cover (light diffuser) began filling with water at a rapid rate. It began to buckle. I ran to the garage and got a bucket to try and get the water out of the electrical light fixture. I may not be a home improvement expert, but I know water and electricity aren't compatible. I had Tom push upward on the opposite side of the long plastic covering to drain the water my way. I held the bucket under the spot that looked like the water would come out. Suddenly a huge wave of water poured directly onto my head completely missing the bucket. I stood on the chair drenched head to foot while poor Tom looked aghast at the miscalculation. I busted out laughing. I couldn't believe how ridiculous it was. I know I looked like a drown animal. Water was everywhere and we scrambled, carefully mind you because we have a ceramic tile floor that is like ice when it's wet, to get bucket and trash cans for the gush of running water. Tom ran up and told Dan to turn off the shower. I ran and woke up Mike to show him our current disaster. We emptied the light fixture and cleaned up the mess. It was late and Mike still needed to get some sleep, so he could function at his actual job.

Today we have to figure out where the leak is coming from which will require us to pull down a large chunk of our kitchen ceiling. I said last night that we finally get to take down the 1980's California florescent fixture we have disliked so much. Betty looked at me and said,"Stop saying you want to change stuff. Every time you do, something breaks!" Again I laughed. It was true. Every time we have not liked the look or function of something in our house, it falls spectacularly apart forcing us to do what we originally thought was something that could wait.



My darling manfriend Michael has been put to the test these last several months. He is our Mr. Fixit. True to form, he has fixed more appliances and cars and house stuff than has ever been required of him before. The minute he puts his tools back in the garage something else goes kaput. The physical and emotional strain would bury a lesser man. My Michael keeps going like the pink bunny with the drum. He's at his real job trying to support his family while I remain at home writing the story of us. My heart goes out to him. He is fastidious about making sure the chores are done and the fixing gets finished. But there are no more hours in the day for him than anybody else. He's just one overworked guy doing his best. So for my sweet, exhausted husband I dedicate the Kansas song and plan to play it for him when he gets home.
"Hold on, Baby, hold on. 'cause you're closer than you think and you're standing on the brink. Hold on, Baby hold on, for there is something on the way and your tomorrow's not the same as today..."

Saturday, May 23, 2009

What Do You Stand For?

I have stood mere centimeters from my kids faces shouting at them, "What do you stand for?" It may seem galling to some that this is my behavior with my "kids", but please understand they are all taller than I am and I believe it is my job to put them to the test before the rest of the world does. The times when I have acted this way has always been when they actively decided to do something I feel was/is potentially dangerous. They are/were teenagers and I had to be on point at all times. The idea was to push them into having to yell back what it is they actual believe, verses what nonsense they have gotten caught up in. If you have perfect children who have never done anything questionable, then by all means, you are excused from this blog. I am talking about kids and adults alike who are far from perfect and have made mistakes or taken a course that had the potential to do harm either to themselves or someone else. It could be a simple as gossiping or as complex as driving with someone under the influence.
My kids are great kids. I have done my best as their mother to instill in them what is the right thing to do. I see them and know they have heard me. That doesn't however, exempt them from all bad behavior, or me either, for that matter. I have had to yell that same question at myself from time to time. I believe we all have our moments when we forget what it is we believe.
The times when I have stood toe to toe with my kids and asked that question I was always relieved to hear their answer. When pushed, they always came back at me with their ideals and beliefs firmly held and staunchly defended. The times when I have felt beaten down and stared at my own vacant eyes demanding an answer, I would almost always come through immediately with the answers I have always known and embraced. I admit, though, there have been moments of weakness when I have hesitated, feeling as if all I held dear was a lie. It inevitably came after some disastrous event that had me doubting my very purpose on earth. In the end, I would look into my own tear filled eyes and remember that believing and practicing the right thing didn't guarantee perfect results. Sometimes taking a stand, firmly embedding oneself in their vision of righteousness has no immediate reaction at all, or worse has ramifications from an offended party, intended or not. But believe and stand firm I did, often times in spite of myself.

What I stand for is very simplistic:
I believe in the America of my forefathers, the perfect ideal in the constitution of the United States. More than that, I believe in the American people(I am a flag waver from way back).
I believe the children are our future and deserve our respect, and our wisdom, not our money or condescension or control.
I believe given the opportunity most people are good and seek fairness. Inequality brings prejudice, hate and violence.
I believe in listening to my elders. Having lived far longer than I, their knowledge has been invaluable to me.
I believe in miracles, the unexplained, the unscientific that can neither be proven nor revoked by facts and figures.
I believe that the words I write, or speak matter. I believe with my whole heart that anything I throw out into the universe will firmly smack me back in the face. I'd rather have the kiss rather than the fist any day.
I believe that although love cannot conquer cancer, it can tie us together beyond the grave, allowing us to feel it forever.
I believe the greatest gift I have ever gotten is the ability to keep learning. My journey keeps me on my toes with my ears and eyes open. I don't want to miss a thing.
As corny as it sounds, I believe in love, honor, dignity, kindness and charity. I believe a single voice that stands for good can over power an entire world of evil. I believe that we are all here for a reason and if we touch a single soul we have made this a better world to live in.

Just like the Monkees "I'm a believer!" It's not easy to stand up for what you believe all the time. I think everyone gets put to the test and stretched to their limits to see if what they say is truly where they stand. If you are in a place of questioning and your mind feels overloaded and distracted, take a moment to look at your feet. Unless your mid flight you will be standing on some sort of solid ground. Use that as a reminder that you have simple veered off course, but that your internal compass will reveal once again exactly where you stand.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Book Is Almost Done...What's Next

The book is being put into files for print to be sold. I still can't wrap my brain around how will it look or how I will feel when I see it for the first time. In the mean time, while I am waiting, I am getting ready for my two new projects. Since I am house bound and have no outside life to comment on, I thought I would take this opportunity to write about what comes next for me.

My next book was under some considerable debate. In the end it was my editor who gave me the best idea. Bless Emily's heart! My next book will be about my relationships with men. I could go the whole making fun of route and I am sure I will to some degree, but it is more about communication styles and generational changes. I have a dad, husband and 2 sons. I am not an expert on men or boys, but I have real time experience on my resume with some of the best and worst behavior boys have to offer. My theories and ideas and eventual lessons learned will all be in the next book describing what I did that worked and the mistakes I have made in trying to coexist with my men friends. It's an opportunity for insight that I didn't have when I started out being married for the first time. My divorce from my first husband serves as a cautionary tale of what not to do. I wish I had known then what I learned the hard way later. My idea is to throw it all out there, so someone has the benefit of my good and bad experiences. My kids are getting sick of my stories and I feel they are worth telling, so...

My second project is a series of children's books. They will be based on my own children and some of the things they have seen, heard and lived through. It will be set during their childhood and all will have a resolution in the end, not necessarily a happy ending. I write what I know to be true and my kids have been stellar examples of honest, open expression. I will include how they all dealt with their father's death in the series. I think it's important to include the hard stuff too. If by chance one other child feels less alone because my kids stories can reach out, then the tough stories are worth the telling. I will tell you the reaction of my kids has been funny. They do not feel complimented or put out, they merely look at me, shrug and roll their eyes. My oldest is famous in our house for saying, very sarcastically,"good story" when she has to endure one of my rambling stories or speeches. I have taken that remark to the next level. I will give this project my all, in hopes that it will indeed be a "good story".

I am researching the writing projects this summer. I know that I have to focus on begging people to buy the current book, er, I mean, marketing. The real writing of these two projects will start sometime in the late summer or early fall. My hope is to have the boy book out sometime next year. The children's books will take longer due to the art work and illustration. I have no earthly who will be doing that at this stage, so I am certain there will be all kinds of surprises.

I am as anxious and excited about my upcoming books as I am with my current book. I feel so lucky to be doing what I love. I had almost given up on ever being a writer. I had every reason not to do it and only one really good reason to try. I love to write. I had worried because I don't have a 4 year degree of any kind that I was not smart enough to write. My best girlfriend said, "I have a journalism degree and I can't write that well." With that in mind I will continue writing with her blessing and all my other friends and family who have helped prop me up when things got big and scary. Ooooh, big and scary things...maybe another book in the making.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

It's All In the Perspective

I was a single mother of 4 children for 7 years. Most of those years my ex-husband was deceased and I was singularly responsible for our kids. To borrow the phrase "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times." It was very tough in some respects and absolutely freeing in others. I look back on those times with a sense of awe and wonder.

I had felt originally felt sorry for myself, that I could not provide monetarily or sometimes physically what I had deemed fair to my kids. I had envisioned a very different life for them and was extremely disappointed when the dream went unfulfilled. Ask my kids, they will tell you how many times I have peed on our parade because things didn't work out the way I had planned. For them, they were just happy to be loved by both of their parents. Their father loved them deeply and they were all the more hurt when he was no longer around, but always felt his love all the way from heaven.

They had suffered during the divorce many reckless and hurtful comments about both their mom and their dad. They had dealt with adults playing Monday morning quarterbacks in a life that didn't belong to them. Some friends and family alike decided they had the right, nay, the obligation to banter around blame and recrimination in front of our kids. My children being small at the time soaked it all like the sponges they were and harbored it all inside for a very long time. Their father and I had our own difficulties in making sense of the mess we were in, without others giving out commentary and bad advice that we neither wanted or needed. It seems ridiculous to me NOW.

That's the thing about time and maturity. What used to give us great pain and anguish eventually gets sorted out and discarded with the trash where it belongs. Hindsight is not only 20/20 it comes with a circular file that allows us to clear out the debris. My kids suffered with all the judgement people could dish out. It wasn't useful, helpful or kind. It was only a way for people to get away with saying hateful things they would normally just have to keep to themselves. To us now it's almost comical looking back. We have talked about things they have carried around for years in protection of either their father or myself. They thought by letting the cat out of the bag they would inflict more pain, more hurt, more animosity towards a time in all our lives we would all just as soon forget. We have no rugs in our house. By that I mean, my kids and I made an active decision together as a family to be open and honest even if it inflicts momentary pain. The idea was to put our crap all out there so we could sift through it decide ourselves what needed keeping, what needed throwing out and what we needed to be occasionally reminded of, just in case the lesson hadn't quite stuck. It's brutal in my household at times. The kids get to tell me when they think I am wrong. It totally stinks as a parent to hear your kids call you out on a big mistake and have to apologize in front of them. Luckily for me, they are forgiving and we all learn something in the process. Our lives as a family are bigger than my being "the Mom" instructing, preaching, cajoling and dictating. It is a group effort to help and protect all of us from big, life altering mistakes. We talk about my depression during the divorce and Danny's death. We talk about their father's alcoholism and the ramifications of it. We talk about family history of wrong behavior, mental illness and failings. We do it because knowledge is power. It's also humility and empathy. It provides us with tools to look at things with new eyes.

I never need to sit down and explain how I haven't been perfect to my kids. They already know all of my faults and can list them alphabetically and in order of importance. As a single mother I had no partner to deflect my bad behavior or hide my wrong doings. I was the only one to look up to and look at, and they did, all the time. I am happy with that in the end. I wasn't crazy about it when they were young and felt every inch of the microscope I was under. Now, I see how it changed our family dynamic and how we accept and love each other truly without condition because we know everything about us.

I had watched other two parent families when I was single and coveted the life they had. They were Mom, Dad and kids in a lovely well kept home and a well behaved dog lounging on the front porch. It was all very Norman Rockwell for me and my heart ached for that for me and the kids. I felt so sad I couldn't bring their father back in whatever situation, divorced or not, and I was pedaling as fast as I could, but could not provide the near perfect life I had witnessed in others.
I felt that guilt until the "perfect" family suffered a divorce and we watched them disintegrate right before our eyes. I spoke politely to both of them, giving them their space, but made sure my kindness extended equally to both sides. I watched them suffer as we had in the separating of lives and alteration of their universe. My kids did so with kind smiles and sympathetic eyes. We had been there. We really did feel every bit of their pain.

My kids and I have our perspective spectacles on all the time, ever aware that kindness and decency are the only things that should come out of our mouths. No one knows what goes on in any marriage they are not a participant in. So in the end, nice matters. It matters so much it becomes the only thing that matters. Some may see it as diplomacy, but in reality it is decency for the remaining victims. One of my favorite shows is up for grabs in the media. Betty hooked me up to Jon & Kate + 8. I watched the show as a way to reminisce about how it was for me taking care of my 4 darlings who were so close in age. I liked the realness I felt from the kids. The melt downs were my favorite because I would spend days planning something only for one of my kids to skip their nap and fall spectacularly apart.
They seem to be dragging around their own bag of hammers. Every channel has some tidbit of gossip about the couple with 8 kids. It's all fun and games until this destroys one or more of their kids. And make no mistake it absolutely could. My heart goes out to all of them. I will remain neutral forever because they will all suffer because of the media hype on things that only they know for sure. It's heart breaking to me that there seems to be such blood thirsty hunger for details of a young family's demise. I see bits of similarity only in the respect that although we weren't reality stars but in the end we had suffered our own witch hunt, smaller scale, just as hateful.

One day this family suffering public humiliation will have their own perspective and look at others suffering and hopefully will have kind eyes because of their experience. As sad as it is that the hard way seems to produce the most, best perspective, at least it's not in vain. That is what I am most grateful for today. I huff and puff because of my pleurisy and painful ribs remembering that it is in the end only a good lesson to be learned and not nearly as difficult as the ones I had to learn a long time ago.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Shutting Up and Being Still

I have a minor problem right now. I can't take any deep breaths, laugh, cough, or sneeze. I have torn rib cage muscles and pleurisy, which is inflammation of the covering of my lungs. I have it on my right side. It's a stabbing pain with a lovely dull ache that resides in my right arm. The right side of my neck is pulling me that direction making me somewhat lopsided. I have to be very still. I can't show any really strong emotions that would quicken my taxed breathing. I have to be nothing right now.

I am not good at being nothing. I like to have a mile long to-do list every morning where I run around like a maniac attempting to get at least half of it done. I love being busy, especially at home. I had big plans for this week. I had my lists made in advance and I was squeezing in even more things that I wanted to try and do. 24 hours of non stop productivity, that was the goal.
I woke up Sunday, startled out of a dead sleep knowing something was horribly wrong. I couldn't take a deep breath and my ribs felt like they were on fire. The pain began to move up my neck and down my arm. I knew in that instant things I had planned for the week were gone to the circular file. I had bigger fish to fry this week than cleaning out my desk drawer or organizing the dish towel cupboard. I was going to have to do all the things I preach at others to do in order to heal.

As a retired nurse and massage therapist, I have lectured people on health issues for over 25 years. I have dealt with every type of illness imaginable. I would assess the situation and give my professional opinion on what would be the logical next step. I would carefully explain in detail every step of the impending care plan. I had to figure out what I would do for me. No pushing through this, not this time. I had to be down or suffer the consequences of making it worse.

I have to be still. I have to slow my own breathing to try and expand my lungs as much as humanly possible without sending myself into excruciating pain. I have to allow the muscles to heal and relax and the swelling to go down. One wrong move and I get re injured and the everything gets inflamed again. Alternating heat and ice and ibuprofen are my new closest friends, that and sleep. We all heal more in our sleep. I haven't been sleeping, so in some ways I was setting myself up for an injury or illness. Lacking sleep is no small matter.
I started to feel put out by the whole mess. Until I realized that I don't believe in random acts or happenings. I believe all things have a reason and I am not immune to learning another big life lesson right now simply because I am busy. I know from many personal , and sometimes very painful lessons that this is not the time to question why me or why now or why anything. I am being forced to shut up and be still. That is one big ass sign. I didn't think I needed to be hit over the head with anything to get me to listen, but maybe my need to busy up lately is not the right course to take. This may be my "Y" in the road. I have been running around trying my darnedest to keep everybody afloat.

OK, so I get that I am not supposed to be writing, cleaning, calling, cooking, and shoving a broom up my butt and sweeping on my way out. Here's what I have figured out so far.

I have limited things I can do so I am guessing I should focus on those. I have 3 books I am reading for work. I can read all day now if I so choose.

I can still type but not much, so I have to pick my writing priorities. This blog is definitely my biggest for now. That and the books I have started. All else will have to go unanswered.

I can walk slowly around my garden and pick ripe tomatoes and cut basil and make myself a salad.

I can sit outside in the morning because this week we have low humidity and 58 degree nights. Even the windows are open.

I can listen to my family without interrupting with my own ideas. They are loving this!

I can meditate and pray in the morning without a million racing thoughts to block me since I have nowhere to race to now, anyway.

I have been able to reflect on the book and think happy thoughts. I have no control anymore. It is being prepared to be made into the final product. For the next 2 weeks I have nothing to do with the book except sit and wait.

So there it is. I have things I can do with what I have, even now. I have a million things to be grateful for that I may have blowing past since I was so busy. I am learning the new skill of shutting up and being still. I am learning that my slow down I was practicing evidently wasn't slow enough. Rather than look at this as some sort of horrible tragedy, I am looking at it as an opportunity.
I am mostly thankful that this opportunity didn't have to knock to get noticed. I don't have the strength to go answer the door right now. This one entered on it's own, announcing it's arrival and refusal to vacate until I acknowledged it's presence. With nothing better to do now, I have the time to get to know it. I am learning and absorbing things like a sponge. I feel like I did when I was a kid in school and I got algebra for the first time. Just when my body gave up, my mind kicked in. My place right now is to be the student.
With sharpened pencils and the smell of a freshly opened notebook, I am on a sabbatical of learning. I know this too shall pass and soon enough I will be back to my old self...or will I? Maybe I'll just be a healthy newer version of me. Whatever the outcome, I am just happy to take advantage of the quiet me. I just feel very lucky to be learning anything new my age.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

The Right to Bare Arms

I want to maintain my right to bare arms. I'm not talking guns unless you mean the gun show I put on when I am working out. Although I must admit, right now it's not much to see. I still have the eternal wave going on where my tricep should be.
Summer is here and I fell off the work out wagon. My truth is I hate the working out part, but love how I feel afterward and the results. Getting my fluffy butt into smaller pants is not just a goal, but my personal obsession. Right now I can squeaze into a size 10. Don't judge me. Remember karma is real. I can get into them, butt I am forever one good sandwich away from slipping back into my 12's.
Summer is in full swing here in Houston. The less clothing, the less perspiration soaked cloth I have to carry around. It's hot here. I know all my folks up north are envious of our pool and hot sunny weather, but I should warn you that means less time to get ready for it. At least northerners have the extra month to get in shape. I needed to start in December to be ready for down here. It's tough getting motivated for swim suit season with Santa hanging around.
I got caught up in refinishing the pool and prom and every other big happening around here and left myself out of the schedule. Now I am 2 full weeks behind. And when I saw myself in the mirror I realized how large my behind was getting.
Tomorrow, though technically for the rest of the working world is Sunday, in my household it's Monday. It's an opportunity for me to jump back on the wagon and ride it for the rest of the summer. It is my intention to get healthy this summer. Maybe thin isn't in the cards for me anymore. I'll settle for strong, healthy and happy.
Tomorrow when I get up and face my nemesis, the treadmill, I will remind myself that sleeveless is the goal. Tank tops-yes, turtle necks-no. Even if I still waggle and jiggle a little I'll be alright, as long as it isn't so bad it sets off some sort of perpetual motion dragging me off my feet and across the floor. I'll maintain my low expectations , so any change is good and surprising.
Tomorrow I will drag my sagging behind to my workout room (it used to be the formal living room, which for us was ridiculous since we are by no means formal people) and climb on the ball, hula my hoop and run on the wheel until the blood reaches my brain and I remember this is supposed to be good for me. I will be listening to latin music to help my motivation on two levels. 1) The fast paced music drives me to work harder.
2)It's in Spanish by a hot guy which will remind me to work harder for my man-friend.
I will be attempting to do this 6 days a week for 1 month. Please understand if the blogs are short or incoherent, it's because my muscles are rebelling and retalliating. No worries, though, the kids can help me around the house. hahahahahahahahahahahaha

Thursday, May 14, 2009

To My Dad

I would like to take this opportunity to say Happy Birthday to my father whose jowls I have inherited, along with his pointy nose and love for prose.
My father has been my biggest supporter (along with my mom) with my writing. He criticizes when I don't want to hear it and he praises when I least expect it, but that is my dad. He has been there for me and has allowed me to show up for him on occasion.
I love my dad. I have had the privilege of watching my parents change. Some people think that others cannot change, but my dad has allowed me to see him as a man, as well as a father and I have witnessed his maturity, growth and yes, even, change.
Happy Birthday, Pop!
Know if I were there with you, I'd hug and kiss you and steal your cake!

We'd be madly in love but we're so tired...

Mike and I are sitting outside as I write this, staring off into space with not much to talk about. The last several weeks have been exhausting. We have been fighting the good fight against broken appliances, college kids fiasco's, prom and of course painting the pool with beautiful yet toxic epoxy paint. The wiener is walking on his own now, but we still have to carry him around the empty pool (we're filling it tomorrow, now that the paint is dry and the fumes have dissipated) because he has no control of his butt, literally one good tail wag and he is thrown off kilter.
I won't say we are unhappy because that would require energy that we currently don't have. We still have each other and the gratitude that comes with knowing you live with your best friend. The humidity is up here in Houston and the thermometer is inching it's way up to the summer heat. We have the same weather as New Orleans and I must say that while I was living in Ohio I thought the sultry weather was romantic, even sexy. I still think the wafting smell of jasmine in the evening has it's merit, but I find the whole sweaty thing less appealing now that I am in it. It's tough being romantic with your best sexy look when the perspiration is dripping off the end of your nose. My other personal favorite sweaty thing is when we have the chance to be physically close to one another and we literally stick to each other creating a horrible sucking sound when we part. We call this kind of summer love "hot, sweet and sticky". People think we are kidding, but trust me no southerner thinks it's a joke.
We have no energy to do much in the afternoon heat today. We have chores that need tending to that we will ignore for today. It's a day for recuperation and laziness. I am OK with that. We have both been working our tails off for some time now. One really lazy day never killed anybody, unless of course your a prison guard.
We have sat out here looking at each other glazed over like donuts. I see the pangs of guilt in his eyes and he sees it in mine. We silently forgive each other, our current weakened state of lazy.
I see Mike getting slightly restless because I am writing, which is my job and he feels too guilty to stay put even with my look of "it's OK to just be". I knew this wasn't going to be a mind blowing blog about the wonderful life I have or some epiphany of something I just understood for the first time. It's my life. Some days just are what they are and I merely try and roll with what shows up. In a few moments I will get up and make a salad for dinner since it's too hot to cook or eat. We will have dinner together with a glass of white wine and enjoy the rare breeze that showed up only moments ago. It's our Friday night and instead of going out to howl we will sit and end it with a whimper, but we will do it together and have a few laughs along the way.

If your life seems boring, uneventful or just lazy---relax and go with it. Sit back, put your feet up and remind yourself that even hamsters get off the wheel for a while.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

A Good Day

I was honored this past week, even today in the most wonderful ways. I happen to love people. Maybe not all people, but I am trying to actively reach out to all people, even the ones who may hurt me either by accident or on purpose. I am just like everyone else who has trepidations about extending an open hand only to get slapped with it. However, my experience is if I try to start with an open hand first, I am more often than not rewarded for my bravery. That is what it takes to reach people; it takes bravery to open up and be the first to reach out.

My birthday was Saturday and my friends and family honored the day of my birth with well wishes and thoughtful gifts. For that I am grateful beyond measure. Just to have someone or in my case many some one's take time out of their busy day to acknowledge and validate me still stuns me into silence. I wonder at times if they do it to shut me up, but I digress...
Mother's Day followed immediately after my birthday with more well wishes and more cake. I got 3 cakes total in 2 days. Did I mention I am on a diet? My kids, husband, parents and friends and my sister, who holds the current record of 11 kids, all called to wish me very happy. With my diet down the toilet, I wallowed in the love that came at me in waves. I start out every birthday feeling awkward about being the recipient. I am a giver. It's my thing. To receive is sometimes difficult for me, but a process I am always trying to improve. It is as important to receive as it is to give. It's another version of extending out my open hand.

Something wonderful happened on my birthday. I was honored meeting our waitress in the bathroom. Mike and I appreciated her consummate professional attitude and excellence in service. Her timing was impeccable. I searched the table for a comment card, finding none I used part of the envelope from a card Mike had given me, writing how much we liked our waitress and how good she was at her job. We paid our bill and headed for the restroom on our way out. I walked out of the stall meeting E. at the sinks to wash our hands. We began talking. I am not sure how it happened, but she opened up to me about her personal life and her struggles with being a single parent. I knew all about that, so as the sage I gave her the best advice I knew and told her to keep being the good mom. I told her what I tell all of my kids; you determine your worth. You teach others how to treat you. Keep your head up and continue doing the right thing and your life will turn out the way you want. I felt so honored by her trust in opening up to me. She had exposed her heart and I knew it was my only job to validate the good in her. It was my calling to see her. I was elated by the experience and smiled all the way home, feeling as if in the time she and I had spent together I was truly on the right path for my own future.

Today I went to the doctors office for a routine check up. My weight was stable, thanks in part to all the cake, I hadn't lost any as I had hoped. I got my blood pressure checked along with my pulse, both were low and healthy. I felt calm. I have been happier than I have been in some time professionally, so I was thrilled that my body was in tune with my mind and heart. Then came the next magical thing for me. My PA (physician's assistant) came in and I thanked him for the diagnosis of carpal tunnel last summer and told him about my journey writing the book. We spoke about the book and the theme which is gratitude. I wanted him to know I had left the office that day thinking of him as the person who had ended my professional life. In truth he had unlocked the life I had always wanted to live, but had been too afraid to until now. He turned out to be the key holder. I told him how grateful I was that he insisted I quit my job in order to avoid surgery. In that moment he then opened up to me about his own life and the losses he had suffered. He told me about losing his 26 year old son six years earlier and how devastated he still feels at times. His face showed all the strain of being a parent who had outlived his child. He told me how he and his wife were raising his grandchild now. He had only been 4 months old when his father had passed. I spoke to him about Dan's cancer and death when the kids were so young. We connected heart to heart in that moment. I felt him all the way to my bones. He showed me pictures of the child and I ooohed and ahhhed over the little guy. I spoke of my own children and how they were more empathetic than so many teens and 20 year olds. I told him that kids who suffer such a loss can heal through love and time enough to one day reach out to their peers when adults can't reach them. My kids are incredible human beings who span the great divide of such an exclusive club. They call it the Dead Dad Club. They are inclusive because of their loss and they remain acutely aware of others who suffer the same. At the end of the appointment we hugged. An exchange of love and admiration happened at a routine doctors visit. Once again I felt honored and privileged to be invited in to such a vulnerable state of grace. I tried my level best to take great care of the exposed heart in front of me. I was once again called to be a witness to some one's life. It wasn't about me (thank God) it was about being present in the moment and open to hearing his heart.

As I drove home from my appointment, I felt a deep calm inside my heart. I was in exactly the place I needed to be in exactly the time I needed to be there for both of us. Just as Saturday I was able to be there for E. today I was there for D. the PA. I felt a sense of gratitude for the feelings I had been entrusted with. I feel even now such joy that I had experienced such connection with people who I normally would only be exchanging pleasantries with.

Oh, and the cherry on the cake( I felt the cake referrence was necessary since I am surrounded) of my day was I reconnected with one of my dearest friends from my teen years. He was the funniest guy I knew and we attended many bad high school dances together. I have thought about him a million times since then.

Today was a good day. It was a very, very good day!

Monday, May 11, 2009

I'm Getting Ready

There have only been a hand few of times in my life when I felt like I was getting ready for something big, wedding days and giving birth are givens. The times I am talking about are those rare life altering moments when you can't see what you are getting ready for, but rather it's something you feel. I feel it like a freight train coming right at me. The book is going into imposition soon which means it will be made into a book I can hold in my hand. After careful inspection of the publishing company and myself it will get approved and go up for sale. For me that is when the real work of the book will begin. I love to write. I love to look up facts and do research for writings and jot down notes, quotes and ideas. I love word maps, outlines and my personal hieroglyphics that I create along the way. Writing for me is not work. That is the thing when others have said "My job doesn't feel like work" for the first time in my life I get it. I guess, it's my aha moment.
Marketing the book , on the other hand, will be work for me only in the aspect that I have to keep track of figures and schedules and stuff. I have kept four kids on track with sports, band, choir, school and church, so in some ways this won't be that different. Maybe it won't be so hard after all.
I am going to be doing small speaking engagements or book parties for the release of the book. I am looking forward to that most of all. I love people. As much as I love to write in my bathrobe, I love to go out and meet people. Hand shaking and hugs are right up my alley. I love other people's stories of triumph over tragedy. I love humanity at it's finest and at it's most vulnerable. The time that I will have to go out and meet people and sign my book will be the highlight of my life to be sure.
The book is almost here. I can't imagine how I will feel when I can hold it in my hand, smelling the newly printed pages, running my fingers over the spine and clutching it close to my heart. I am sure my first reaction will be screaming, jumping up and down while running around like a maniac. The next thing I will do is call Mike if he isn't home. Then he and I will jump up and down together. I'll run to the neighbors and show them my first born written child. I will call my mother where more dancing and jumping will ensue. Frantic calls will go out to the children who will celebrate with me my new career. I will burn more calories in that single day than I have in the last 5 years. In the calm of the night long after everybody else is sick of my everlasting talk about the book, I will sit in the quiet and just hold the book. I will pay homage to the life's experience contained in the pages and reflect on the amount of time it represents. I am sure it will be in the stillness of the moment that I will surrender myself and allow the tears of joy to come. I will cry for the painful lessons I had to learn in order to grow into myself, I will cry for the miracles I have witnessed in my life, and I will cry knowing that dreams really do come true. My only thought after the tears have ceased to flow is how happy I am to have remembered to carry Kleenex in my sleeve, so as not to get the book wet.

Something big is definitely coming, I'll be ready, Kleenex and phone in hand.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Happy Mother's Day To All My Homies!

I just got finished with my coffee sitting amongst the jasmine and angel trumpet bushes we planted last year. I love living in Houston for the very reason that everything grows all year long with only the occasional frost to subdue it. We have night jasmine which bloom in the evening releasing their pungent fragrance all night, well into the morning hours. We planted several of them, so our yard has their thick, sweet smell that is so powerful our neighbors enjoy them also. Today is my birthday and the celebration is all about being in the moment. It's also about reflection and taking stock. It's my process. It's what I do every year. Tomorrow with Mother's Day coming on my birthday's heels, I was thinking about when the kids were young.

I do occasionally miss the paper project gifts and the half baked cupcakes, but I miss the time I had with them most of all. When I was a single mother I received loads of sympathy, people telling me how sorry they were things were so hard for us. As much as I appreciated the sentiment I believe they missed out on the good parts of being a lone parent. While it's true that I had to work more to stay a float and my time was stretched so thin you could see through it, I also enjoyed the benefits of hogging my kids all to myself. I didn't have to split my time between spouse and children. I never had to ask any one's opinion on what to do or eat or how to handle a parenting situation. I could put down blankets in the living room, put a fire in the fireplace, and watch Disney movies all night, falling asleep with them in a heap if that is what I wanted. And I did want that. I made our plans without any other voices chiming in about what a bad idea it was or what a better idea they had. It was just me and them. I loved having the me and them moments. Our house was filled to the brim with wonderful memories of us being together without interruption.
I miss holding the little hands at night when monsters could be under the bed and scary sounds came out of the house. I was their hero who assure them that all was as it should be. I miss the days when they would wake up running to find me for no other reason than to kiss me good morning. They thought the sun rose and set just for me. The feeling was mutual, as I would look at their angelic faces with tousled blond hair and big blue eyes.

What I have now with them is just as good as the soft pastel memories of their childhood. I have indescribable moments of closeness with my nearly adult children. They are not just my children anymore, they are their own people with individual styles and ideas. We now have mutual respect for each other. I watch as they become responsible adults, mindful of their family, country and future. More than just all the love I feel everyday as I wake up remembering how fortunate I have been, I like my children as individuals. I know if I weren't their mother I would still gravitate to them as someone wanting to be surrounded by their humor and wit. They are amazing, these people who have keys to our house. They promote the ideals I painstakingly drilled into their heads. They practice charity, honesty and integrity.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers single and married who have dedicated their lives to raising kind hearted, thoughtful children. If you have young children, take tomorrow to breathe them in. Spend the day watching all the glorious, ridiculous things they do for you and to you. If you have teenage children, take the day to allow yourself a moment to just breathe. With proms and graduations and banquets filling every spare moment, allow yourself this one day to do nothing. Lose your car keys, order pizza for dinner, and remind them that even God took one day off. Give yourself the opportunity to kick back and know that the beating your head on the brick wall will pay off. I always thought the perfect Mother's gift for mothers of teens was a helmet. If you have grown children, congratulations! Take this opportunity to revel in a job well done. I occasionally remind the children how lucky they are I let them live after they tortured me with childhood drama and teen angst. Buy yourself a cake. Eat it with your hands and if your married throw some at your husband. Why not, it's your day!

Whatever you do on Mother's Day, at least take a moment to feel a little proud of yourself. Parenting is the single toughest job there is. The swag is crap, the perks are few and the pay off doesn't happen for 25-30 years. No one ever became a mother because they were selfish. From the moment that child is conceived the mother's life is altered forever with endless days and sleepless nights. Take the day and be kind to yourself. Put on the tiara, your favorite bathrobe and forget to shower. Eat snacks instead of meals, drink straight from the container and belch your approval. Don't worry about what the kids might think, Monday will show up soon enough and your crazy behavior will be just another day in the life...

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Happy Birthday?

Saturday is my birthday, I will be 46 years old. The number really doesn't mean much for me. I gave up short hemlines and certain clothes in my thirties. When 40 came I was ready to start the second half of my life and move away from youth into maturity. Not to say people aren't mature in their 30's, but they don't have to start shopping for their AARP card yet.

"When I was a child I thought as a child, but when I became a man I put away those childish things." I quote this to my kids all the time while they remain half child and half adult. They have their transition and I have mine. Mine is about making sure I live out the remainder of my days in passion. I did the whole marriage, picket fence having babies thing. I did the whole struggling, single parent thing. Now is the time for me to live in the promise of passionate pursuits. It is me fulfilling a promise I made to myself a very long time ago.

I love my birthdays because it gives me a little time to be selfish and think about me. I reflect on what worked in the past year, what didn't and what I have learned. My professional life is in limbo this year, more than any other time in my life. I noticed though I am worrying less which is a huge accomplishment for me. If I had back all the time I needlessly worried and was hand wringing I would add another 10 years to my life. Since I am only half way through my life I am thinking I am ahead of the curve learning that particular nugget of wisdom. I won't say I never worry, but it happens less and the ferocity of it is much lower. I suffered from panic attacks in the 1990's while I going through my divorce and Danny's (ex-husband) death. My heart would go out of rhythm and beat as fast as a rabbit. My palms would sweat, my mind would race and I would end the happy occasion breathing heavily into a paper bag so I wouldn't pass out from hyperventilating. I looked lovely with my hair matted to my head, clutching my chest while panting into some one's lunch bag. They feel like heart attacks for anyone who hasn't experienced the magic of them. They are emotional responses that turn into a flight or fight physical responses. Definitely as much fun as a root canal, definitely.
Eventually, after counseling and some much needed perspective the panic attacks stopped. I still had the occasional behavioral freak out, but nothing like I did when I felt like I had lost control and my body followed suit by having me lose total physical control. At 46 I feel accomplished in that I get that my control is limited at best anyway, so why get all bunched about it.

I have noticed a segment of the female population who is having such a difficult time accepting their aging bodies and minds. I think they are missing out. I don't borrow my kids clothes because I am bigger and I would look ridiculous, not to mention the fact that it would make my daughters physically ill if I did. I don't shop in the junior department because I am not young anymore. Being "old" doesn't have to mean being finished. I have met some women who get so offended by the word "old". I don't. I like where I am now. I know all about what I don't have anymore due to age, but what about what I have gained. Some women get put out by this because they would rather have beauty than wisdom. I get that, I really do, but what about what you know about, well, say sex. Would you wish to be 20 again and too afraid to ask for what you want? Not me, sister, the 20 somethings can have their flat stomachs and line less faces, I like the way I am now in that department. It has taken me years to hone those skills and I wouldn't relinquish any of them for perfect skin and vein less legs. I am more comfortable with myself than at any other time in my life. That is a win-win for me and my husband. I am not afraid to take what I want. My birthdays have ended up being gifts for him and me.
I am not at all concerned about what others think about my clothes, hair or what I drive. I have no sense of embarrassment for that. I most certainly did when I was young. So much wasted energy on things that didn't matter. I remember being young and scared that everyone thought I was ugly, poor and stupid. Since my kids have qualified me as being "old" all information is on a need to know basis. If I need to know tell me, otherwise leave my sagging butt out of it.

I like this birthday because it has no expectation to it. 46 isn't a big birthday for cliche parties or scheduled life events. It just is. I like the idea that it is nothing and yet still has the possibility to be anything. I know some people who have great expectations every year for certain requested gifts or traditional happenings. Me, I like to play every year by ear. The one certainty for me as I age and get "old" is no one year is exactly like the next. One year I'll get a puppy and the next year it's Spiderman on DVD, which is cool because when I was little I used to adore Spidey and I would throw myself at a chain link fence, grabbing on for dear life and stick to it, like him.
One year will be laid back and the next will be led with an itinerary.

I have no preconceived ideas for what this year holds. I will be happy with what ever comes. I could get my hopes up and start putting all me birthday eggs in one basket, so that if the family gets it wrong I have the whole day to mope and feel sorry for me, but I tried the Pity Party theme and it just didn't do much for me. The big gift I want this year is quiet. No TV, computer, radio or any other device shooting an aerial sound assault at my head. I want to wake up without an alarm. Spend the whole day doing I don't know what with no sound, except those made by actual living people in the house. Maybe I'll ask for quiet all day and then have movie night in the evening with a glass of wine, sharp white cheese and small pieces of toasted sourdough bread. Throw in some strawberries and I have my perfect evening all mapped out. If per chance the family has plans in place to go to a noisy venue filled with beer, starches and bad manners, I may use my right to veto the birthday bash. I'll hand them my marvelous birthday map and see what they think. The very next day is Mother's day. The family gets very stressed out coming up with back to back ideas. Hopefully the map will ease the strain.

I like birthdays with their misshapen cakes, ill fitting gifts, and over thought out elaborate plans that never translate correctly. I love the idea that the family collectively sweats over getting things perfect when I am completely satisfied with thoughtful. I relish every note of the off key extreme singing of the Happy Birthday song, where even the dogs howl their way through it.

Saturday will be a surprise for all of us, even if it wasn't purposely planned. That is what I like best about my birthdays most of all.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Something Is In the Air

I got a call from a very fear friend who has been having the very worst year. One thing after another has taken him completely off guard. This last episode, he lost his job. If he were a lesser man I think he would have jumped by now. I have watched my kids have to deal with a bunch of unnecessary stuff that has kicked them and knocked them down. Michael and I have had our fair share of stuff coming at us for the last couple of months and don't even get me started on the news. There isn't enough money or prestige in the world for me to want to be president right now.

So what is it about now that has things so far off kilter. Are the stars not aligned? Is the new moon ticking off the old planets? Is it some sick cosmic karmic joke? What is going on?

Here's what I do know...I have had years like this one before. Actually, they were worse. Back then I was alone and broke and terrified. Now I am only slightly broke and mildly concerned. I watched times like these when my personal hell began and lasted for about 5 years. Wrap your brain around that. For 5 years I had big problems with difficult solutions. This period of time resembles a cake walk in comparison, even with the stock market in shambles.

Here's my plan...tomorrow I am going to wake up put my feet on the floor and breathe. I will keep breathing until I remember how lucky I am that I can. Back in 1992 I had a period of days when I could not breathe on my own. I was hooked up to machines and I was unable to get my body to do things I normally don't even think about. Tomorrow is breathing and then maybe the next day it will be something more elaborate like smelling the air that I am breathing. I don't want to get ahead of myself so I plan to keep my goals small. Just getting up and the breathing thing is a good place to start. I know that when big bad things happen, big good things come on their heels. Being in no hurry to do much else than my planned breathing activity, I will be more than happy to wait around and see what wonderful tidings of joy are coming our way.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

A Love Letter...

To My Children,
My dearest darling children, I want you to know I see you today and everyday I wake up and draw breath, even when you are miles away from me. In my mind and my prayers and especially in my heart is where remain forever that tiny child I hold so close trying to protect you from the world outside our warm and happy home. My day begins and ends with thoughts and prayers for your safety and happiness. My heart, much like the Grinch, grew three times larger when you came into my life. It has always been about you from the moment you entered the world with your big blue eyes seeking out the origin of the voices you came to recognize.

I realize that you are so much older and wiser than I could have possibly imagined you'd be. I realize that you don't need me to be there to protect you all the time like I used to. Cognitively, I know you are able to handle things, sometimes better than I would and often times without my help or even knowledge of the problem. I do know you are smart and thoughtful and capable. I see you. I really see you.

I hear you, too. I hear the way you have matured into people that I not only love as my children, but as individuals I gravitate to for friendship, support and your endless ability to love. I hear your thoughts and ideas and sit back awestruck at how compassionate, kind, and intelligent you are. As I try my hardest to keep up with your growing intellect, I find myself wondering when your transformation took place. I search my mind for the day when you became so grown. Days flow together for me as I age, leaving me with impressionistic visions of your youth. Not unlike the great paintings that blur the vision of realism and idealism.

I am grateful to you for your endless patience as I too have grown and matured. I am humbled by your ability to forgive my transgressions as a mother. I know, now, that you see and hear me, too. I feel your very heart beat as when I carried you deep within my soul everyday. It has been my greatest privilege being your mom. Should I have had to take a test to be a mother I am quite certain I would have failed miserably in my youth. My innocence in the time when you were born allowed me to believe that I was ready for such a challenge. In this I am certain that ignorance is bliss. It is bliss that I felt the day you were born. It is bliss that filled me from top to bottom every moment I held your tiny body close to mine. Even though I was so young, I never lost sight of how fortunate I was just to be in your lives.

I always knew you were rentals. The clock began it's loud ticking the moment you drew breath. I knew then, as I know now, that I had a window of time to be with you and that one day you would grow beyond me, moving on to live independent of me, discovering the world for yourself.
I have always wanted to rejoice with you when that time came. I wanted you to know that my love for you was bigger than my own ego, bigger than my own neediness and bigger than my selfishness in wanting you with me all the time. That time for most of you is here. Trust that I am ready, steeling myself for you leap into your life taking steps far larger than any I have carried you up. I have done the work to release one finger hold at a time allowing you your freedom, trusting that you will guard your life as I have.

As Mother's Day approaches, know that my gifts are already here. Being your mom has been the single greatest thing I have ever been given. My pride in you doesn't come from any DNA, I or your father have provided, but rather the way you have grown into yourselves becoming so much more than anything he or I could have envisioned.

My Loves, thank you for allowing me to celebrate Mother's Day everyday, reveling in your joyful natures, raucous laughter, and delicious humor. Thank you for every time you held my hand making me feel safer, warmer, and loved; for being the light to follow all the times when I got lost in the dark. Thank you for reminding me that miracles do happen and dreams can come true. My hope is a direct result of your soaring spirits.

I just wanted to to hear me today. I just wanted to say to you how much I love you and Happy Mother's Day!

Monday, May 4, 2009

My Silent Hero

I am at the end of the book publishing process. I have been at this now for what seems like my life time. I have re-read passages so many times now I can recite them from memory. I find myself quoting myself. That is awkward and a little creepy. I am knee deep in the dotting of i's and crossing of t's and making sure I haven't rambled on until the message is lost. I haven't. My editor would have fixed that by now. But none the less I still have to scan each word and each line just to be sure it is the way it is supposed to be.

My little book project was never intended to be little at all. My book was supposed to reach as many people as it could, so if they were knee deep in their own stuff, they would have an example of all the good that can happen, if they just hold on. My book is all about being watchful for the miracles that grow from the composted pooh I have had to wade through. And I have had lots of little miracles. Even when it felt like I might fall completely to pieces, if I just stopped and took a breath, I could see something magical happen right before my eyes.

This is my first book, but not nearly my last. I am already outlining and word mapping and carving out my next several books. I am excited about each one. They are all so different, yet of the same family, much like my children. Writing has become the new occupational love of my life, often showing as much of it's bad or tedious side as the wonderful, joyful side. I am lucky not to be a tortured soul as I write. I did that gig when I was a nurse. I do scream at the computer form time to time and have to chase the dogs around to retrieve my favorite pen, but for the most part I am not suffering that much. In that is where I find my latest miracle. I have been so fortunate during this process to work with folks I really like. I have been able to sit down in the peace and quiet of the early morning and allow all my ideas to flow through my pen onto the blank page. I have reconnected and newly connected with some amazing people who willingly share knowledge and ideas.

The book lists at the end of each chapter that which I am grateful for in every situation, even the death of a beloved. I grew so much during the difficult times, allowing me the opportunity to see well beyond the nose on my face. It was hard, but I have very few regrets about my life. I look back at all I had to go through to be where I am now and I can see is how it was absolutely worth the trip. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want to re-live it nor would I wish any of it on my worst enemy. But I see how with each step, I grew into my life and all the profound love and support and joy I have now.

I have to gush for a moment about the real hero in this book. Trust me when I say it's not me. Throughout the book and even well before it's creation there was a person who put all their faith into me and the words that were pouring out of my pen. He never wavered, not once, while I wrote and wrote and wrote. My husband, Michael, has been encouraging me since day one to do what I love. He put his and our money where his mouth is and not only took the leap with me, but nearly pushed me off the cliff to do it. In the nicest sense. This man, works long hours to support me while I am unpaid. He holds my hand when I get terrified that I have no talent and am a hack. He brings me tea when I am immersed in the work, too busy to get up and get my own beverage. Michael is the reason the book has come to life. Without him, the notebooks may have remained in storage for another decade. I thanked him in the book. It seems so small to me, the tiny words on the page, attempting to express what only my heart can truly know. And even then I feel as if that may be meager in expression.

As I read through the passages of the book, I see Michael in tiny threads throughout each story. I feel his love and support in the chapter's ending moment of grace. If not for my beloved Michael, I fear I may not have been brave enough to step out of what I was sure of and into a life bigger than I could have ever dreamt.

Michael is not one to take any credit for the book. He sits quietly by, picking up my slack around the house and making dinner, denying that any thanks are necessary. He tells me every day how proud he is of me. He tells me everyday how much he loves me and how lucky he is to have me. He is the truest example of real love that I know. My line to him is, "This family doesn't work without you." His line to me is, "I am just glad you think so." And I do think so. The fact is, Michael has stood by encouraging all of our dreams. The kids and me wouldn't be who we are, if not for him. His ability to love and nurture breathed new life into all of us. I have watched us create such a lovely life for each other. It just doesn't get much better than this, and when it does he is the first one to celebrate with me. I feel full, saturated with the love, comfort and belief my Michael darling shows me everyday. As I sit here now typing these words, know that the tears of joy and gratitude slowly drip down my nose onto the keys. I am acutely aware that this girl has got it good!

Sunday, May 3, 2009

It's All Just An Illusion

I am in the throws of change, big , hairy unexpected change. Change is good. I am all for change. I love change of every denomination. I like the way it jingles in my purse and makes me sound like a one woman band. I love finding it on the ground and assuming I will have good luck for the next several days. I love when after months of collecting my change I can empty my over stuffed pig into the change counter and walk out with two new dollar bills. Change is exciting and new and shiny. It's the wonderful unexpected shiny bauble that easily distracts me and keeps me occupied for hours. I sit mesmerized, staring at my change wondering if it will move or grow or leave me hypnotized for the remainder of the day. The synopsis of this is Change Is Good.

Scheduling your life around your newly acquired change is... maybe bad isn't right, so let's all be politically correct and call it "challenging". My challenge is to try and fit my old life in with my new life. My old life is familiar, easy and worn in like my favorite bathrobe. My bathrobe is pink and fuzzy and I wear it everyday in the wee hours when I write. It's sort of like a security
blanket, only without the embarrassing explanation to my deep attachment to it. No one ever asks me to explain why I am wearing a robe. They are just very pleased that I do.
My new life is edgy and exciting and moves quickly, darting around inside my head. I find myself chasing my new life all over the house. Usually it's when I am required to produce information that I haven't had time to organize, so it's written on paper towels and napkins strewn all around my 5 different work areas. You'll have to forgive my disorganization, but my new life swept in all glamorous and demanded all the attention. It's constant neediness had me going all over the place just to keep up. New lives have so much more energy than old ones do.

I am in Juggling mode. I need to juggle the new life with the old life and find a happy medium somewhere in the mix. I know it's in there I just have to try and find it. My problem is as I am juggling all day I only see the blurring of what I need to get a handle on. But I am a chicken and don't want to drop the balls long enough to see what I can keep and what I maybe should let go of for now. What if I drop the ball and I need that ball and I can't get that ball back in the air? What if never again do I hear the sweet sound of some one telling me, "Kellie you have got some balls!" I just don't think I can risk it. What to do, what to do...

OK, truth be told I am going to try and let go of much of my old stuff. My old life has been fine. I am not whining about it. However I am not he same person who started with that old life. 5 years ago it was the new life and came in all crazy like a life gone wild. I think it's time to move on. I am keeping the people because those never go out of style. The robe stays too, until every tattered shred disappears into the lint catcher. I love my robe, no apologies. I am going to sit down today and get rid of what doesn't work anymore. I am not the mother of small kids anymore so we shouldn't even own a toy box. I am getting rid of my need to step in all the time. I have been practicing that one and I have gotten pretty good at stepping back and knowing that the kids will be OK. I am taking one more step into independence. I'll slowly evaluate all the things in my old life I love so very much and want to hang onto. But just as I had to move out he 80's and get rid of all my fingerless gloves and torn lace hosier so too now do I have to move on to another time when hemlines are 5 inches different and my age plays a factor.

I am excited about my big move into the new life. It's for me, like moving from your starter home that was filled to the brim with big wheels and changing tables into the retirement condo that has pristine white carpet and glass top tables. My new life has me thinking about what I want for the first time in twenty years. Up until now, I had eliminated that question completely merely because it conflicted with what I needed to do for my kids. Just knowing I have choices in this new life is very exciting. The old life had a good run so there should be no complaints during final call, just a few happy tears and some great stories.

I have to go. My new life is knocking hard to get moving. It's so impatient. It just barges in at a moments notice and pushes me to start packing up the old to make room for the new to move in.

If you happen to see me and I look a little different, please understand, it's only because I am.

Friday, May 1, 2009

It's All So Shiny

I had a complete and utter melt down the other day. Well, not so much me, as the family desk top computer. In truth my melt down came moments later when I realized I was cut of from friends, followers and the book. My circuits shorted, my wiring burned out and I let out the mother load of expletives that would have curled Morticia Adams hair. The computer has become my primary work tool. I must admit I was not enthused about that aspect of my new job. I am pen to paper girl. I love using my favorite well worn pens to write on blank spiral notebooks dragging them from room to room and tattering their edges. I have written that many times because it's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I am sitting in my living room typing this. There is nothing really exciting for most people about that fact, but please understand, I am light years behind everybody else when it comes to technology. I am just beginning to appreciate what others have had for many years. I am happy to have the opportunities, being without strings. Up until now have done all my writing in our game room surrounded by the bratty cats and the foosball table. In the morning, before school the kids play their stereos at full volume on opposite sides of the house with me being the monkey in the middle. It's a surround sound, but not one anyone would hope for.

Writing has always been akin to praying. It's been an opportunity for me to connect with not only myself, but my environment, and the people in my life. It is my personal drug of choice when I am happy, sad, depressed or euphoric. When I am in the zone, I am in a meditative state with my face glazed over like a fresh early morning donut. In my written world, I have time to map out my thoughts, I have spell check to keep the communication accurate, and most of all I have the ability to erase, scratch out or delete mean spirited or useless thoughts. These are the really important tools of my trade; the ability to change what is wrong long before the reader has the chance to witness my bad or ignorant behavior.

The new computer makes me feel more professional. It helps me to feel at least as important as the grade school group who also have their very own computers. It's shiny and new and fun to work on. I must admit though, that when I am near my kitchen table I still need to go chew on a pen cap while referring to my computer as a "notebook". I still enjoy writing on my real notebook in the morning. Like my children, I feel the need to spread my affection around.