See You In Ten

Years ago when I was broke and the bills were mounting and I had no one to ask for help, my birthday was right around the corner and children asked me what I wanted.I looked at their innocent faces and saw how sincere they were about wanting to get me something, anything to make me happy. Every day when they would wake up they would see my furrowed brow and downward mouth, terrified because I didn't know how we were going to survive another month.My fear and unhappiness were palpable.The heaviness of not making enough money, no matter how much I worked hung on me like an iron suit. My kids loved me enough to want to do anything they could to make me happy. I would look at them and answer, "I don't need anything" and hope the question would go away, because we didn't have money for my birthday. Rest assured, I always made sure we celebrated their birthdays, in order for them to feel important to me and to the family. What I hadn't counted on was me making them aware that I didn't feel worthy of the same. That was the lesson I taught my kids, "you can have the world and I can have nothing, so don't even bother to try and celebrate me. I will not allow it."
I see now how destructive that thought process is and how much it hurt my kids. They loved me and thought I was worth everything. I made them feel foolish for even thinking that. It breaks my heart now, looking back at how far I had fallen from the dreams I had had for myself when I was a child and thought I WAS worthy of happiness and a good life. It breaks my heart because my kids were too young to do anything on their own, even if it was against my opinion, and treat me the way they thought I should be treated instead of the terrible way I had begun to treat myself. Somewhere back then I had stopped being a mother to be celebrated and I became the martyr.
My kids still love me, thank God! I have outgrown my need to sit in sack cloth and ashes and tell the woeful tale of why I am not worth a birthday cake. My birthday is right around the corner on Mother's Day. Michael asked me what I wanted. I originally said a diamond tennis bracelet. We then looked at each other and laughed. I say that every year and every year we have someone graduating, college expenses or big utility bills staring us in the face. I have no doubt that one year I will get my bracelet, but for now, we will continue to look at each other and laugh. "I'm serious, Kel, what do you want this year?" I sat and stared at him as if he had just spoken a foreign language. I named a movie I want to own and then said "Um..." for the next several minutes. I had listed several things I thought I had wanted a month before now and found myself not really wanting anything. The truth is, I am happy. I am really not sure of what I want right at this moment. I have been happy for so long now, my list of wants has dwindled. it isn't like before when I would say I didn't want anything because we were too poor to get anything. Back then I had a million things I wanted. Mostly, what I wanted back then was to fill the gaping hole in my heart. I currently do not have that hole. Michael, the kids, the pets and my friends have filled it to the brim. Actually, my heart is overflowing.
Still, I have to come up with some tangible thing for them to get me so we can celebrate around a fire hazard cake and packages with shiny paper. i am not a stuff gal, but I have realized that sometimes people in your life just want to get you something pretty that you can enjoy. Since I do not like making the same mistakes twice, I will find something they can pick up or at the very least lead them in the right direction. I am quite willing to celebrate me with them. Being happy at my very core has taught me that it's wonderful to celebrate how far I have come.
In my forty seven years I have been married, had children, lost children, lost my kid's father, been a nurse, been a massage therapist, been a friend, been a listener, been a survivor and written a book. so many time in my 47 years I have thought, "Wow, I can't believe that happened and I have not only survived, but grown in the process!" So many occasions I have counted my lucky stars and known, I mean really known, how truly blessed I am. IO have been able to do some pretty wonderful stuff. I have accomplished things that were only dreams to me when I started.
For me now, my biggest birthday wish is to have another goal like I did when I started writing the book. There are days when I still can't believe I did it. I love the fact that I set my mind to doing it and I did. there have been plenty of times when I have made plans , only to have to let them go for one reason or another.
On May 9, I will celebrate with my family a day that truly is all about me. I will gorge myself with cake and ice cream and laugh at the silly cards they will give. I have come a long way since the days of my martyrdom. The future holds a whole lot of promise for this young lady!

I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say "No"!

I am unable to say, "no" to rescuing animals. Michael on the other hand has no problem saying, "no, nyet, never, go!" I have been a sucker for animals since the day I was born. My mother will attest to the fact that I was forever dragging some raggedy animal home in order for us to save it. As a child I had thought I would be a vet, but I can't deal with sick animals. Humans I have no problem with handling. I have quite literally had my hands in places inside of people that no one should have to go and never winced. I have touched a human spine on a living person while doing a dressing for wound, and then went off and had lunch. Go figure.
We are now the proud owners of 3 dogs, 2 bratty cats and a sugar glider named Jeepers. Jeepers is the newest pet. Tom had a teacher whose kids didn't bond to the little sucker and she was giving him away. Thomas, unfortunately, has the compassion for animals via genes from his mother.
My dogs are for the most part pretty well behaved, sans one. Schnitzel, the dachshund, is ill tempered and feels completely entitled. I have never looked at my dogs as my children. I have to be honest,sometimes when people call their dogs their kids, I get upset because dogs don't give you stretch marks, teacher calls or need to go to college. pets don't require you teaching them how to stay out of jail. if you dog ends up in doggy prison, the pound, then you are the one to blame. I don't want to negate the intensity of attachment to pets, quite the contrary. I adore my pets, and my kids will be the first to tell you, I freely admit they are better behaved than my kids, most days. Although, it is true they are completely dependent on me for food, shelter and love, much like my own kids, they are easier to put to bed and they NEVER talk back. I love my pets and when anything has happened to them, or they have gotten sick or died, I have been devastated. But maybe it is not a good idea to compare that love to the love and devotion of parenting actual human beings.
My cats are lovable in their own right, as a favorite uncle would be, who rarely speaks, only hugs occasionally and shows up to see the family only when he wants to.They have their mind set on being independent and free thinking. just as my dogs fight for the privilege of the lap, my cats fight just as hard for quiet, undisturbed, alone time. Matches, the elder statesman, is 18 years old this year. I sneak up behind him almost daily and tell him to go to the light. He turns his head ever so slightly to give me his "Kiss my hairy butt" look and continues on napping. Hercules, the younger bratty cat is now 12 or 13. I can never remember. he acts as if he were a very young cat, bounding down the hallway, sneaking down the stairs to watch the wieners in their cages, taunting them as saunters to the kitchen to check things out. He knows if the wieners were loose, there would be blood. Most likely the wiener's blood. Hercules never has to fight the dogs, Matches will hunt the little dogs down and trap them behind the toilet, reminding them the claw is mightier than the bark, no matter how ferocious.
Jeepers the newest addition to our loud family is the loudest yet. As the smallest animal in our kingdom, he chatters in a way that makes you initially jump out of your own skin. He is part chipmunk, part flying squirrel, yet I call him a wombat.He looks a little in coloring like a lemur. He is nocturnal and pubescent, so days are not his friend. wake him up while the sun is shining and he will yell at you until you leave the room. He is a cheeky little monkey, who insists on getting dried blueberries and peanuts from me (grandma). He will ring his little bell to get your attention. He will grab onto the cage bars and rattle them, as if a prisoner from Alcatraz, so you will pay attention to him. He is demanding and a bit of a diva. When Tom has him out playing, he runs on his wheel, and takes flight out of the cage and jumps AT you. A calm demeanor is required to handle the Jeepers as he crawls all over you from stem to stern. He jumps from people to curtains to shelves with the grace of a Cirque De Soleil performer.
Ironically, none of the species really gets along with each other, but we haven't had an uprising since Jeepers wandered downstairs and took BoBo for a ride.

All of my animals are getting older, like their owner. Their eyes are beginning to dim, I notice with my bifocals on. We have been together for a long time, me and my crew. The walks we take are getting a little slower. The cats ignore us more now than ever except when food is involved and then Matches sits on the steps and calls out,"helloooooo". I try not to make him wait very long since he is an ancient cat.
I think this might be it for me, these animals. They are irreplaceable, one of a kind pets. They are part of what makes me think we are in for some very big changes. There are members in my animal kingdom who have already lived full lives and may not have too many years left. We are in the "every day is a gift" portion of the program. As they go, I am not sure if I will be so willing to say yes anymore. just as raising my kids has come to an end, maybe my tendency to own a petting zoo will dwindle as well. it's another "we'll see..." moment for me. For now I am enjoying my remaining time with my old dogs, my ancient cats and the baby Jeepers. As I write this, I just saw Matches peak his head around the stairway, as the three dogs lie in their respective beds snoring. BoBo's snoring is so loud that I have to increase the volume of the TV just to hear it. All is peaceful today in the kingdom, as it should be.

"May" be I Really Am Lucky

I was reading my “Psychology Today” when I ran into an article about luck. I read studies that were done to determine who is lucky and who is unlucky. I read that most serendipitous events happen to those who are fearless. I gave me pause to think about my own life and how lucky I have been. How many people can survive not just one, but two near death experiences and still end up funny. Yes, I think I am funny. Not hilarious, people would pay to see me funny, but I love irony, slapstick, and puns. In all that I wrote about in my book and this blog, I see how fortunate I am. I run into people I have on my mind all the time, either online, in person, or on the phone. I have had deep conversations with complete strangers asking them where they are from and what they think about any given subject. People fascinate me, so I am always at the ready with questions. I have found things about folks whose families have no clue. How you ask? I ask them. It’s why I write non-fiction. My non-fiction life events and stories of others and myself are infinitely more interesting and bazaar than anything my mind could drum up. Life for me really is crazier, zanier than fiction. It’s what makes me so damn happy.
That was another thing about lucky people, they are happier than others. Well, that’s what the article said and they have footnotes and double blind studies to back it up. I am happy most of the time. I laugh at the most ridiculous things. It’s easy for me to laugh because crying takes too much time and effort and makes me look like crap. I know I have written about crying many time here, but I haven’t emphasized how much I really do laugh. I guffaw, I mean, really belly laugh at least once a day. It makes my stomach tighten, face hurt from smiling and liquids shoot from my nose. Even as coffee squirts from my right nostril, landing in the fruit bowl in front of me, I wouldn’t trade the experience for a million polite smiles.
I have always felt I was lucky because I knew I was. Every day I wake up and count my blessings and thank the Big Guy for everything I have had in my life. Easy? NOOOOOOOO! Great? Oh hell yeah! Knowing how lucky I am has caused me to be even luckier, which was also pointed out in the article. Being somewhat fearless about taking chances has allowed me to remarry when I was advised not to. Not being married to Michael is something I cannot even explore in my psyche. If I could I would have him around me 24/7, ooh, and naked too! Just thought I would throw that in to gross out my kids. I had been burnt, so why try again? It’s not like I was getting married to have a family, I already had four kids and that has been a handful. I did it because I never wanted to regret the opportunity of sharing my heart with another human being, even if somewhere down the road I got squashed again. It is better to have loved and lost. So far my lucky streak has me loving and winning. It’s been the best bet I have ever made.
Writing a book about the worst things that have happened to you in your life, like bed wetting, divorce, medical arrests, suicidal teen, all of that is a scary. What if I am judged? What if it never sells? What if I am an illiterate idiot who just thinks she is lucky? I took the chance and wrote. I love that book, because it represents me not giving into other fears, anxiety and neurosis. I say I am neurotic, and I believe I am to some degree, but it never stops me from dreaming or trying to change and open my mind to things I have never done before.
I have failed many times in my life. If somebody wants to tally those up and believe my failures is what defines me then good luck to you, because there are tons of them. You will need a very sharp pencil and lots of time. The thing I am the proudest of is that I keep trying long after I have been told to stop. I listen more to the voice in my heart than the voice in my head. I never want to be the kind of person who wishes I had tried, but stopped short because I was afraid I would fail. Better to jump and fall down than stop and lay down. Unless you just want to take a nap, then by all means…
The article also said May babies have the most luck of all. I tend to believe it, since my birthday is May 9. As far as luck goes, I have been lucky to have friends, family and loved ones who have loved me deeply, truly for a very long time. As of next month it will be 47 out of 47 years of love. I have to tell you I think those odds are fantastic, which makes me the luckiest person I know.

Reality Bites

I have never written in a journal. I always wrote stories as if I were telling someone else what had happened to me. I wrote as if someone else was going to read it. I didn’t consciously write that way, I just wrote and that is how it turned out. I guess it goes back to my obsessive/compulsive need to use things, rather than to waste information on me when I already knew what had happened. I hate waste. I love to recycle, reuse and re purpose things. The idea of throwing things out has always bothered me. Even as a child I had pack rat behavior because I never wanted to simply throw things out. My writing reflects that in every way.
I was thinking about why the book hasn’t taken off the way I would like. The truth is I am having trouble “selling” myself. I believe in the book and think it can help others who are going through tough times, showing them even the worst possible scenarios have a silver lining of sorts. For me, it is difficult to push the book all the time. I see entertainers and “reality stars” push themselves all the time with no hesitation, while I languish in embarrassment of talking about myself too much. What is too much? Hell, I don’t know, I guess I struggle with all the chatter I hear on TV, radio and everywhere else as others talk non-stop about why we, the public should support them. I have always had some fear of buying into my own press. I want folks to buy the book because they can get something out of it, more than I want to make money. Maybe, I should want the money more, but I have never worked any job in order to make big money, but rather to feel more purposeful. It’s not that I don’t need money, I do. I usually need it more than I let on; I just have a difficult time talking about that aspect of life. I think, the fact I have known many people with a lot of money who are still not happy is why I wanted to be happy more than I wanted to be rich.
I boycotted Dancing with the Stars this season. I didn’t want to hear Kate Gosselin, for one more minute, talk about how she needed millions to support her eight kids. She goes on and on about how she needs to make money to support her kids in the media when she already has a career in nursing. Maybe if she sold that multimillion dollar house in PA she could stop crying. I questioned my own motives for not “liking” her or her ex. Was I jealous? I had been a single parent of four children with no dad, because he was deceased and had to work two jobs, so was I merely a green eyed monster? She and that dufus of a father had so many opportunities because of their TV show, while I struggled to stay alive and afloat. Honestly, I don’t think I am jealous. I really didn’t approve of exploiting one’s children to make money for any reason. I had enjoyed the show up and until I heard the parents talk about how unfair it would be to their kids not to have ski vacations out west, or go to Hawaii. What??!!!??? I then watched as they bought a multimillion dollar house and went on book tours. I sat and shook my head. I didn’t begrudge the little ones having vacations, but if a parent thinks it’s “unfair” that they can’t take their children on really expensive vacations, then I think something is screwed up. I watch Kate promote herself constantly. Her job is promoting herself and being a single mom as if that were the commodity. I try and see where her talent is. What exactly is it that she does that makes her so special? She talks about being in movies, TV and writing books. OK, so she writes. I have no idea if she writes her own stuff or has a ghost writer. I think she has already put out three books in a very short time. Wow. It took me ten years to write even one book, mostly because I was busy with my kids. Then I remember that she has mannies, nannies and hired help. Oh, I think, she is talking about being a single mom, but not really having to live the hard life style of one. I will grant you that travelling away from your kids is hard, but she has chosen to do that. She has had choices to make all along and she has made them, the good, the bad and the ugly. She gets no sympathy from me. It’s not because I have no compassion, but I will spend my time and energy on women who didn’t sell their kids as a TV show. I will celebrate women, who talk of others instead of always using “I” statements. I think about myself, always doing the check list to make sure this not me being bitter. I don’t envy her. Fame is fleeting. One day she will wake up and realize, as she feigns disdain of the very paparazzi she needs in order to maintain her fame, that this will all be over. One day people won’t want to hear about poor, poor Kate and how she has to support these kids. Who I really feel sorry for are the kids. I think their parents have their priorities all screwed up and they began to believe their own press. These kids will grow up and the memories they have will be of strangers raising them as, mommy and daddy tried to get face time.
I’ll be honest here, reality TV has made me gun shy away from wanting to promote myself. I have never wanted to be a hooker on any level. I am proud of the work I have done in all my careers. Writing is just one of many accomplishments I have. I have no idea how to promote myself without the worry of selling myself out. I have never wanted to be famous. I just wanted to be the best in whatever I have done. I like being accomplished, not popular. I wasn’t super popular back in school when it counted, so to have any of that nonsense now, to me, just doesn’t make sense. They called Kate ratings gold. I suppose that is a compliment, but train wrecks and natural disasters are ratings gold too. Her next big move is a show where she gives parenting advice!!!?????!!! WTF? She has been a parent for a New York minute and now she wants to tell us how to do it? Oh, UNCLE! ENOUGH already! I wish TLC would take a woman, average height and weight, middle class who is close to retirement who has GROWN children and ask her to do an advice show. Now that show I would watch. Someone’s Bubby, in a house dress, talking over coffee about how her eldest snuck out the window and what she did to handle it. Her kids would all have survived childhood, high school and college, now married with their own kids, stopping by asking Bubby for advice as we listen in. Think about the invaluable information we would get and how we would find out that we don’t have to be perfect, but we do have to make sacrifices and be present. Here’s what I am certain of: Kids don’t know from poor, unless they are told. They will gladly let go of every item they own to have you with them. How do I know this? My own kids told me when they were little. I was trapped in the time versus money conundrum, when they made it very clear that money was less important to them as having me home. My youngest child recently reiterated how happy she is that I am home these days. It comforts her to know she can call anytime and I am available to her. She waited a long time for this privilege. I wish I had been able to give it to her sooner.
As far as what I am going to do as me promoting me? I have no answers as to how I will do that. I will not be following the lead of the aforementioned “reality star”. Maybe I will see how Ellen Degeneres has done it, or Oprah. I do notice these folks don’t have kids. Let me rethink this…Meryll Streep just does her work and lets it speak for itself. So maybe I will just do my work and let that be what promotes me. I guess you get to be the judge.

Owling At the Moon

Yesterday was a bit of a disappointment, wonderful accomplishment and miraculous events. It has definitely been a weird year. I am on hiatus from my project due to house showings. I should have recognized that now would be a difficult time to do what I wanted, but I thought I would give it a try. I have not totally abandoned my idea of self care; I have merely revised my expectations and goal driven dates.
The disappointment came in the form of talking with friends who are currently not being recognized by their company. They have not received raises since a decade ago and they were told yesterday that they will not get any now either. They are stricken. Grief, disappointment, low morale, and of course frustration, have them feeling very down in the dumps. I feel for them because when I worked as a nurse we didn’t get paid raises either. There was always some excuse for the company to turn their backs on us and make us feel as if we didn’t deserve to be paid at all. I remember telling my friends about this and not wishing this feeling on a dog, let alone folks who have dedicated their lives to a company, who now feels absolutely no loyalty to them. It’s excruciating to watch.
My youngest child, Betty, who is graduating next month, was nominated for “Most Talkative” and “Miss KHS”. She won “Most Talkative”. Michael and I have watched her work so hard for that high school. Although she didn’t win Miss KHS by her peers, she is all that and so much more to us. The nomination was a real honor. There are hundreds of kids who attend that school and she was nominated as one of three. Michael and I were so very proud of our girl.
My oldest child, Christine is a senior in college. After working so hard at school, carrying a part time job, volunteering for professors, her fraternity and being there for her friends, she had been feeling stuck. The never ending to do list she faced everyday was getting to her. “I feel like my life is never going to start”, she moaned on the phone. “Hang in there,” I told her, “things are just going to get better.” Sure enough, she hung in there and is currently on a flight to NYC to see world renowned art museums. She has dreamt of this day for years. She has spent years and years studying art history, preparing herself for opportunities unknown. No one deserves this trip more than she does. I tell my kids good luck is merely preparedness meeting opportunity. Christine’s good fortune had more to do with her tenacity than anything else.
I had fallen asleep last night feeling restless. My life is full of opposites right now. One response to our house was not overwhelming positive, while another was. One career is stalling while another is just beginning. One child will be just starting college while another will be finishing up. Our renovation is over and we are looking for a new house with old problems. I feel like a living paradox. I struggled to fall asleep, begging my mind to slow and stop the chatter. I let go of one question at a time that was plaguing my brain for immediate answers that I do not have. I lay looking at nothing, hoping for a reprieve. I started saying to myself in my head, “I have no control over any of this. This is not my battle to fight, my problem to solve or my question to answer. God, please help me to let go and know that it’s not up to me.” I fell asleep a little later. I was dreaming that people had barged into our newly fixed up home and began ripping things apart. I was irate in the dream and began screaming and pushing these intruders towards the door. As I fought my own subconscious in my dream, I had this feeling of utter despair. In this exact moment I woke up in a cold sweat. I sat bolt upright and focused my eyes on the clock. It was exactly 1:21 am. My heart pounding, my breath coming in short bursts, I knew sleep would not be mine for quite some time. I put my feet on the floor and forced myself to hoist my butt up and headed for the kitchen. My kitchen is my refuse. It is the place I live the most, work the hardest and express myself every day. I grabbed a glass of ice tea and decided to go sit outside for the fresh air. I was sitting outside, forcing myself to take deep breaths in order to avoid an anxiety attack. Worry began to fill my already busy head and I feared once it started I would slowly fall down the slippery slope of wasted energy and time. One breath at time I began to pray/talk to God. I asked for a sign that things would be OK if I allowed it. I am usually the biggest reason things don’t work out. I am truly my own worst enemy. I just sat looking at the night sky, once again emptying my head one thought at a time. Suddenly, I heard this soft whispered whooshing sound. I looked straight in front of me and I saw an owl fly over the grassy part of the yard to a branch on a tree that was 30 feet in front of me. It sat on a branch that was nearly perfectly straight on our tree that I had never noticed before. It was directly in front of me looking me straight in the eye. We watched one another for about 10 minutes, when a rustling sound back by the bayou got the owl’s attention. A minute later the owl mad a great sweeping gesture with its wings and flew away. I knew then, as I know now that moment was miraculous. I have never seen an owl that close before. I certainly never had one look me in the eye before. I wished I had a camera with me. I wished I had some way of capturing that moment so I could show everybody the miracle of it. But that’s the thing about miracles, they are nearly impossible to describe. Even when one has an image and detailed description, it never does the moment justice for the power it holds. Was it a sign from God? Probably, but I am rather dense when it comes to signs sometimes and I am not always sure of the meaning. I think if nothing else, I felt heard. It wasn’t so much about what the owl meant in some symbolic term as it was the opportunity to see the owl and be totally present in the moment. Had I not been awake at that exact time, had I decided to watch TV rather than sit outside, had I not been actively trying to quiet my body and my mind, I would have missed out on an extraordinary event. Any meaning beyond that, for now, is inconsequential for me.
My day was filled to the brim with good, bad, scary, wonderful, exciting, and promising things. I went back to bed being so very grateful for my miracle in the middle of the night. I fell fast asleep, and slept like a baby.

The Circle is Expanding

In my book I wrote a chapter called, “The Circle of Trust”. In this chapter I write about talking to my kids, my boys in particular. Raising young men, for me, was difficult since their father was deceased and I had no brothers to rely on. My father was the only male in my household, growing up, and he came from a generation that didn’t talk a whole lot. He lived in household of his mother, wife and two daughters. I think about that now and I can’t imagine living in an all male household. I need the estrogen factor to maintain my foothold on all things girlie. My dad was surrounded by bra straps, tampons and mood swings. It had to be tough.

My sons had a 50/50 shot at power since I have two daughters and remarried. My husband is not a big talker either, so I have had to do the talking and hope that my sons would learn the art of expression. Since they were in high school they have learned to tell me their truth and let the chips fall where they may. I try and listen with my heart and not judge too quickly. It isn’t easy for me. Boys do not think like girls. Boys tend to smell, laugh inappropriately and can’t find their way out of a paper bag. What they do possess is a great need for adventure, so there is very little they won’t try. They are braver than their female counterparts. They have a deep sense of pride. Girls will jump to apology in order to sooth a bad situation, where as boys will stand their ground, knowing full well they are full of crap. Better to be wrong than appear weak.

The circle of trust is based on letting boys be boys. The phrase “boys will be boys” has turned into some kind of excuse for bad behavior. That is not what I am talking about. I am referring to allowing boys express themselves as they are and not some womanized version of themselves. Boys and girls are not the same. Even if you raise them the exact same, and I am not totally sure how you would do that, they have their own way of dealing with things that is innate to their gender. Boys are fixers, doers, and responders. If you need something from them, you have but to ask them, but if you just want to sit around and talk about your feelings, then I suggest you call a girlfriend. My husband does listen to me about my feelings, however he has had years of practice with women and I have learned to try and tell him real things he can do to help me. I do not expect him to read my mind or know things about me and my feelings by osmosis. That is a dangerous game that should never be played in a real relationship.

My boys are not perfect. They were born perfect and have slowly slid down hill ever since. I think this happens to all of us. None of us will ever be as perfect as the day we are born. We are completely naked, raw emotionally, physically and spiritually. I have people in my life whose Little Johnny is perfect. Little Johnny is captain of the football team, a straight A student who never swears, goes to church and doesn’t question his parents. Oh, that Little Johnny is just the best. He is polite and everybody just loves him! I listen as they go on and on about Little Johnny and how perfect he is. When there is finally a break in the conversation, they look at me and wait for me to say something about my sons. Mostly they do this in order for them to have another opportunity to brag about Little Johnny all the while making my son’s accomplishments look like boo-boo. What they get from me is nothing. I say nothing about my kids to others who have perfect Little Johnny’s. There is no point in telling them about my perfectly normal sons and the missteps and accomplishments they have. Those parents don’t want to hear about normal. They want to stay in a place of delusion about their Little Johnny and never know that anything bad has ever happened. I get that place of denial so many parents live in. I feel sorry for them and their Little Johnnies. It’s a mentality that sets families up to fail, I mean, really hit the skids and maybe never recover. There is this idea of parents using their kids in a giant pissing contest. If their kids are perfect then all is well with the world and they are a successful human being. If their kids make big mistakes then they are a failure and everyone will know what a loser they are. It’s ridiculous and the pressure it puts on kids is pathetic. If you think at the age of 21 they haven’t made life altering mistakes then either you are delusional or your kids have never left the house. They are supposed to screw up. Our only real job as parents is instilling in our kids the confidence to face with the world and deal with things as they come. We are supposed to teach coping skills, not perfection. There is no perfect, so it’s time to let that go. If you are a parent who stands around and brags non-stop about your kids to anybody with a set of ears, then I have a story for you.

There was this woman who used to come to me for massage once a month. Every time she came in she went on and on about her perfect Little Suzy. Little Suzy was on the dance team, dated the quarterback, got straight A’s, was voted most something or another. Little Suzy was going to attend the same college as my daughter. That seemed like a safe subject so I brought it up. She asked about my daughter, but I sensed she had ulterior motives. I said only what she was majoring in and I got the “Oh” face. And there it was, the condescension of a parent too tied to her child’s success. Instantly I felt sorry for Little Suzy, knowing full well her mother’s self esteem was tied directly to Little Suzy’s successes and failures. I stopped talking the instant I was sure I knew where this was going. Months later after both girls had gone off to college I saw the woman again. For another hour I listened to the adventures of perfect Little Suzy. When she asked about my daughter the only thing I said was, “she’s fine”. One year later the woman came in for a massage. She looked as though she had been hit by a bus. I asked how she was and she looked at me with tear filled eyes and said, “Things at my house are just awful!” I braced myself for what I was certain I would hear. Sure enough Little Suzy had been kicked out of college, became a meth addict and had done all kinds of terrifying stuff. Little Suzy was living at home, but not dealing with her addiction and would soon be kicked out to the curb if she didn’t stay in rehab. The moral of the story is-----kids are not perfect no matter how much we want them to be. Parenting young adults is as much about damage control as it is about anything else. My heart goes out to that woman. She had made a classic mistake in pinning all of her hopes and dreams on her kid, when in fact the best thing you can teach your kids is to live everyday to their full potential for themselves, not us. Our children’s lives aren’t about us, it’s about raising productive healthy kids who can handle their own stuff.

What does this have to do with the circle of trust? Everything! Look, I am not sure about much, but something I am certain of, stake my life on it, certain is, that kids are better off when they don’t have to be perfect. They need to know we love them as they are exactly at that moment, warts and all. One father said he didn’t approve of swearing and found it vulgar. I get that, I really do. However much I don’t like to hear my kids use vulgar language, it does seem to be a rite of passage for most kids. His kids are young yet and they may never swear. They may never do anything vulgar or distasteful, or they may grow up, do vulgar things because they are young and simply grow out of it, like most kids. My kids say things that make me cringe. I think sometimes they do it on purpose. Some things they get away with and some things they don’t, it really depends on my mood and what is being said. The bigger issue for me is that they talk to me. I can make it so restrictive they give up trying to say anything, because they fear offending me or I can loosen the borders and sift through, so they have a soft place to fall. I am not criticizing the guy who finds foul language vulgar, for his opinion. He hasn’t gotten to the high school portion of the program, so things may change for him. I hope his kids don’t disappoint him. It’s heartbreaking when that happens. I just know having watched so many kids go through adolescence, that they need to decompress in whatever way they can. For those of you who are on the fence about vulgar language and the Circle of Trust concept, I recently saw a study that showed that people who let off steam by swearing decrease their stress more than those who don’t, have lower blood pressure and tend to live longer. I am not encouraging kids to swear, I am just not freaking out because they do. My only rule is no JC’s or GD’s. God is off limits.

There are so few things I am certain of, so I am giddy as a school girl that I am relatively certain of this.

I Never Used to Cry

I noticed in my blog I talk a lot about crying. I didn't cry for almost 7 years, when I was in my late 20's and early 30's. There is a big story about that, but it will have to wait. The reason it has to wait is a story in of itself that also has to be told another time. The point is, I couldn't cry. I held everything in until one day the dam broke and I haven't stopped since. I make no apologies for the crying. I get that some see it as a weakness. I, personally, don't view it that way. My crying keeps me honest and my integrity in tact. I am happy that I cry whenever it suits. Years ago, I was not able to allow the tears to flow and found myself pushing anything truly emotional away from me. Now I feel things deeply. There is solace in feeling things all the way to my bones.
It makes it easier for me to let go of the stuff that happens in my life that might possibly weigh me down. I have had anchors around my neck and I really hate the feeling of drowning, so I let the water flow and the snot drip.
Today is day 6. Day 5 I went and got my hair cut and permed, before the helmet season kicks in here in Houston. I basically took the day off. I probably should not have, but I spent time at The Conservatory, it's in the chapter "Pebbles In My Pond" and saw all the friends I have been missing for months. I felt peaceful there. It helps that it is a Day Spa and has perfectly appointed decor, but the peolple are more beautiful than their surroundings.
I dropped out for the day. I needed the break. My hair now coiffed, today I am ready to start getting ready for the big changes that heading for me like a Mac truck.
I will spend the day picking apart the house we just finished, trying to see it with new eyes. I love this house. I am very proud of the work we have done. It is beautiful. I always knew it could be and now it truly is.
Tomorrow we sign the paper work and put the for sale sign in the yard. I am hoping some nice people buy our house. Our neighbors deserve someone wonderful. We have been so blessed living amongst the nicest people. I remember the first day we "moved in". We didn't have a stick of furniture because it was a holiday weekend. We had no appliances, not a cup or plate or slice of bread. My car was on it's way somewhere between Ohio and Texas and wouldn't arrive for another week. I didn't know where the grocery store was. I didn't know where the post office, bank, hospital or schools were. We slept on air mattresses and sleeping bags and sat on the floor or ground. The boys and I took a walk to the store and nearly passed out from heat stroke. I learned that day, no one walks in Houston at 2PM in 102 heat index weather. I have learned many things about Texas since moving here. The thing I learned most recently is, it is my home. I have lived here for 6 years now and it is where my kids go to college, where they graduated from high school and where Michael's company and our future is based. It is where I finally wrote a book, somehting I thought I would only dream of doing.
In the six years we have lived here, we have survivied hurricanes, Ike being the most ferocious, draughts, tropical storms, teenagers, pay cuts, injuries, illness, job loss, the worst economic melt down since the depression, and on and on...I looked at Michael this morning bleary eyed over fresh coffee, in silence, as we prioritized our separate work day in our heads. I looked at how tired he was. His eyes half closed, he checked his work list and added several more things on an already full piece of paper. I saw how much greyer his hair has become. I thought momentarily about my own reflection and how much I have changed over the last six years. I couldn't help but smile at my boyfriend. We are moving forward together. The last time we moved, he was in Houston handling everything south, while I remained with the kids in Cleveland handling everything north. This time we are in it together. I sipped slowly, my coffee, wanting the morning to last longer before we went our separate ways to do our separate chores. This house of ours has our family imprint all over it. We have painted every wall and replaced every light switch. When I step back and really look at our house, it exudes warmth and love and lots and lots of work. I have loved living here, but if staying means just keeping things the same because it's scary, then I want to move on. Nothing was scarier than moving our family 1200 miles away from everything we have ever loved, so this shouldn't be nearly as bad. I am more afraid of not moving forward and missing something, than I am wanting to keep my house. My home is Michael and my kids; always has been, always will be.

Day 4, Already?

Yesterday I felt a shift. I got some things accomplished, like I started scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees. The house has to be camera ready by Thursday. I have forgotten what it looks like when it's clean. We have been under construction for so long, I can't remember what it is like to walk around a clean house. This would be the time I would usually freak out. I would start yelling at everybody about picking up after themselves and have a nervous breakdown over an empty toilet paper roll lying on the bathroom floor,because somebody missed the trash can. This is the time when my stress level would cause my inherited vein in my forehead to protrude like a tumor, throbbing and bulging at the sight of an unmade bed. But I am not doing any of those things. The truth is, I feel calm, as if I were in an out of body experience calm. Have I finally let go of this whole thing? I have spent so much time praying for the ability to not have self recrimination about selling our home. I have begged for months to let God's will be done and not try and control everything. Is that what this feeling is?
I have no desire to move. It's not as exciting as I wish it were. I lack the necessary motivation to find the new house, or at least that is what I thought I felt. I still do what is necessary, so obviously I have some motivation. I am thinking now that maybe I am just letting flow and not trying to control everything all the time. It's hardly a state of enlightenment when all I am doing is cleaning up and looking for flaws, but I think I may be on to something. I am not pulling my usual bag of crap. I am not blaming me or the family or talking about how this sucks all the time. Something in me has moved on to another place. I am feeling very zen about this right now. No worries, there is still time to panic and act like a maniac, but for now I feel inwardly peaceful that all will work out if I just keep a cool head and let go.
There will be no big reveal for me when my 30 days is over. I am not going to show myself as thirty pounds lighter, looking 10 years younger with the ability to face everything with grace. Remember, I am still me. I will still be the person who trips into the room, spills my food down the front of my shirt and has hair that sticks straight up because I never checked the back of it. What I do feels is happening is I am starting to relax in a way I don't think I ever have. i am not playing the "what if..." game. I like it, I like it a lot.
Another confession...I nap. I don't sleep well at night, so I nap during the day to try and catch up. The results of my insomnia is that I am always tired and never feel completely rested. Stress, teenagers, menopause all play a part in why I can't sleep, or should I say I hadn't been sleeping. Recently, in the last two nights, I slept like a log. The last two days, I have not required a nap. This is big for me people! Naps make me edgy, as if I have missed important opportunities because I have been Rip Van Bitchy, sleeping away the prime daylight hours others enjoy. I woke up this morning realizing I actually slept through the night two nights in a row. I haven't done that in five years.
So there it is, my first big "change". Can I do this every night? Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It is only day 4. I would be happy if I got to sleep through the night for the rest of my time on the project. But I have momentum now and it's time to just roll down the hill with it.
Today is day 4 and I have tons to so with the house, but still have to stay on track with me. yesterday, I prayed my prayers of gratitude for all I have. I said my mantra of "Your will not mine" as I scrubbed the floor. I spoke to my kids in calm voices about expectations in the coming week. I neither fell apart or acted like a maniac. This is all good. Today is about organizing my work and personal life. My desk looks as if a paper factory threw up on it. I can't find things I need and I spend countless hours looking for things that are right in front of my face. One week I counted the hours I spent looking for things that had been miss placed. Are you ready for this? Eight bloody hours, an entire day wasted looking for stuff I should have been able to access in a few seconds. So, today I will spend my time back on the treadmill, which I had to unearth because of all the construction supplies, Cleaning off the paper covered surfaces in our house, which there are three, the kitchen table, my desk, and Michael's desk. Today we find out exactly what has been covering up the table cloth. At one point I thought about making a table cloth out of type written paper, so when the barrage of letters, leaflets and notices came in it would blend it and nobody would notice the mess.
Today, I unearth the stuff and really look at why I am saving scraps and bits of things that must not be so important or they wouldn't end up in a heap somewhere. I am hoping by digging things out, maybe I will discover something about me in the ruins.

Setting My Intention Day 3

It's day 3. Today is about setting my intention on being more proactive in my own life instead of the reactionary status I have held in the past. It's about getting things done that I want to do.
When was the last time you asked yourself,"What do I want?" For me, it's been since high school. Had you asked me as a child, what I wanted to be when I grew up, I could have told you instantly, but now as grown woman with a whole history behind me, the truth is I have no idea. I have denied myself the possibility of that question. Maybe I don't ask because I am afraid that I won't live long enough to see it to fruition. Maybe I stopped asking because the minute I conceived my children, I realized it was no longer about just me. Maybe, life's disappointments have made me afraid to want things anymore. Or just maybe, it's all of the above.
Today I am setting my intention on who I want to be. Make no mistake, I do not view my life as a failure or disappointment. I will never negate the sacrifices I have made for my kids, they were necessary and important. But my job with my kids is coming to an end. There is an end point to motherhood. That doesn't mean I am no longer their mother, it means that the real time, full time job of mothering is coming to a close. I have made myself redundant. And that is a good thing. I was not supposed to be their full time mother forever. I was supposed to raise them to be responsible adults, and I have. I like, as well as love my kids. I push them everyday to be better human beings. I worked my butt off living as breathing example of which direction they should take when it comes to the really big stuff. They listened and are succeeding on their own. Now I need to take the endless amount of energy it took to raise my kids and redirect it towards me and where I am going from here.
I could rest on my laurels and just do the status quot, or I could take this once in a lifetime opportunity and be different than I am now. I could now take the chances I didn't have the luxury of taking before and try not just one thing, but a million things.
I am not on a reality show with life coaches or personal trainers, riding me like a pony at the state fair everyday. I am on my own, because that is most people's reality. I need to do this because I want to, not because someone else is pushing me to do it. Sure, I have a greater potential for failure, but I also have the chance to prove to myself that anything really is possible if I put MY mind to it.
My intention is to start at least 3 new healthy habits by the time this is done. 30 days is all it takes to acquire a habit. My intention is also to see that my purpose here is as much for me, as it is for anybody else. I was not born to be only a wife or mother. I was born for a purpose that has as much to do with me as a person, as it is to be there for others. I guess I am lucky because I do not need to work on service for others. I have put my money where my mouth was as far as that is concerned. When my friends were making big bucks in their careers back in the 1990's, I was working with the dying and elderly making crap for a living. I never did for the money, or I wouldn't have done it. I lived authentically as a nurse, because it was the right thing to do for me at the time. I had said when I was about 19 that I had hated the way the elderly were treated, so I became a nurse so I could do things differently. I am proud of my work record and the time I spent taking care of those who needed me the most. But now it's time for me to stop, regroup and spend some time thinking about what I want now.
My other intention is to show other women (and any men who are interested) they deserve the chance to serve themselves as well. We need to get past the idea that we must do for others and not ourselves. We have nothing to offer anybody if we are an empty vessel. My generation, more than any in history has been completely torn over what is right and what is deemed "selfish". No other time have women been expected to do it all. Even our daughters have learned from us that they have the right to be who they are with no apologies. I could spend the next 27 days thinking about how to undo the unreasonable expectations of what I grew up with, or I could just start moving in the right direction. I am choosing the latter.
It is day 3. Yesterday was not an overwhelming success or a crushing defeat. It was just OK. I did 3 things for me that I had been putting on the back burner, and I worked on my obligations for the family and house. I was neither ecstatic or moody. It was as it was.
Today I am spending some time meditating and praying. It is Sunday after all and I feel the need to acknowledge how grateful I am to my creator. I also plan to clean. If indeed cleanliness is close to Godliness, then this is how I choose to worship today. The third thing I will do is 1/2 hour of exercise in the house and a 2 mile walk outside since it is a beautiful day.
I am doing this according to the KISS theory, Keep It Simple Stupid. I don't want to over complicate what already feels like an overwhelming endeavor. Why make it harder than it has to be? This is hardly brain surgery, but it is hard to retrain an already mature brain.
So, to any of you who are trying your own experiment, reduce your expectations, keep it simple and hang on. Miracles happen when you least expect it.

Here We Go

OK, so yesterday didn't work out like I planned. "The best laid plans..." I realized then, as I realize now that I can either go with the flow or buck the system and end having a melt down. Yesterday, I started with the melt down first. Hey, I am only human and have the tendency to do what comes naturally, throw an all out temper tantrum. After I did, I took a long look at myself and realized I am my own worst enemy.
This isn't going to be easy. I am not living by myself. I am not single, living without children or pets or accountability to hearth and home. I am going to have to adapt when necessary. I can't sit around and wait for my life to begin, or acknowledge that my life is here, right now, exactly where it is. My "plans" dealt strictly with me and how I am and how I feel. I forgot to take into account the other people who are in my house and what they may be feeling. I am reactionary to their moods. I set my self up for failure. I recognize this because it is not my first time down this particular road. So it's back to the drawing board.
I used to feel the failure of a moment and blame myself for all that went wrong. Brilliant. Self recrimination is a great way to encourage change! Now, the way I want to approach this as it's no body's fault. I can't blame my family for falling into old habits. I set things up so they are dependent on me, so how can I blame them for being dependent? I can't. What I can do is see where things went awry and tweak the project. This plan of mine has to be flexible or I am going to have to take thee to a nunnery. I am no nun, so flexible it is.
I did accomplish some things. I got my flabby behind on the treadmill for the first time in 8 months. My companion, Bobo didn't have as much success. Bobo is my cha-wienie, who like his owner has packed on a few pounds and has some bad habits. He is in dire need of change, too. I tried to get him to walk with me on the treadmill, but he freaked out and had his melt down much earlier in the day than I did. He also requires a plan B. I will attempt to get him back on the horse, so to speak until he realizes that this is good for him. In the mean time, I am watching his diet like a hawk and will be walking him with the other dogs when the weather is on our side.
I became very aware yesterday that quitting would be so much easier. I don't owe anybody anything, right? Wrong!!!!! I owe me a better state of mind than I have now. I owe myself the chance to be the person I was born to be. I tell my kids they can be exactly the person they were meant to be, but when it comes to myself I see me as being unworthy of having the life I thought I would have when I was still young enough to dream. Why is it that we are so willing to throw away any opportunity for more when we get older? Why is so much easier to stop dreaming after the age of 25? I know life experience teaches us that adversity will stop you in you tracks when you have made plans. It's no small matter being up against the wall. But I also know that the very adversity that causes us to feel paralyzed in one moment, can be the very thing that helps us through another somewhere down the road.
I woke up today. So? Don't be so cynical, sometimes waking up is the best thing that will happen all day. It beats the alternative. I have the chance to try again today to do more, be better and feel happy that I got the chance to even try. My lesson yesterday was that I have been too hard on me about not achieving every goal I have set. Being goal oriented, I set myself to fail , so I then can beat myself up for the rest of the day about how undeserving I am. And that my friends, is just plain stupid. Today isn't about my end point in this. It's about the place where I can have a new beginning every day. This is more about me not giving up on me than it is about whether or not I lose some weight, meditate more or have the time to finish reading a book I have owned for 10 years.
I have my list of the things I need to try and accomplish. Chances are better than not I will not get everything done. I gave myself an attitude adjustment, so in this case if I don't get the gold star for succeeding at everything, I do get the medal of courage for taking the opportunity to try. Did I learn something about myself yesterday? Yes, I learned that just because I want something now, doesn't mean I can have it, but the great thing is I gave myself permission to want it in the first place and for me that is real change. Part of this process is for me to be able to learn new things, so in that case I am a whopping success. But like my dog Bobo, I am reticent to change, even if it is what is best for me.
Today is a new beginning. Instead of spending my time feeling bad about what I cannot change, like yesterday's failures, and be happy that I get the chance to give it another shot. I don't really give a crap how many days it took Rome to get off the ground. This is about me and whether or not it takes a week , a month or ten years, I am finally getting the hang of the idea that I am worth the wait.

Me,Me,Me For the Next 30 Days

Today is the first day of my plan to be different. I have been a mom now for 23 years. I have loved it, but the truth is between husbands and kids, houses and pets and every other sundry thing I have been left out in the cold.
I am the one guilty of not taking care of me. I have ignored myself for far too long and need to up my game. I am going to be a little self involved. For 30 days I am going to work on my spiritual life, physical life, intellectual life and my emotional life. Every day for the next 30 days I am going to do things for me.
My family can take care of themselves for 30 days for Pete's sake.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. If you're a wife and mother you know that is ridiculous! But the truth is they can handle things better than I had originally thought, so I really can take the opportunity to let them do things that have been traditionally my jobs just because...

Today I start walking again. During the renovation I would do all kinds of physical work on the house and fall down exhausted into bed. Manual labor is not exercise. I feel stagnant and I have gained weight. I didn't gain tons, but it makes feel uncomfortable so it's got to go. My bigger issue is just being in shape. I have never been stunning so I am not trying to change my genetics. I just want to feel good and be able to bike ride, snow ski, roller blade etc. These are things I have always done and I don't want to lose the ability. Today I do yoga again. I had gotten out of the habit , so today is the first day to start that habit back up. I will also be using a hula hoop.
I will be meditating for 5 minutes today. I pray every morning, but sometimes I blow right past the meditating part. It gives my mind time to heal, my thoughts time to let go. I plan in the next 30 days to increase this time to 15 minutes by the end.

I plan to read more, play my trumpet and guitar and really start to sing again. I will never be the next American Idol. I don't have to be to love doing it and keep pushing myself to be better at it.

This is about being the best me. It has to be about me because I am the only one who can truly take care of me. I haven't been doing my job. If I were my own child I would be in foster care by now. It's pathetic that I let things get so far out of hand. I have the obligation to myself, my family and mostly my Creator to take care of the mind, body and spirit I have been gifted.

If you are interested in the 30 day challenge let me know. It isn't brain surgery, but it's gonna hurt like it. ;)

So that is my plan. I had originally done a video diary and I couldn't get it to work so I had to write it out. So learning how to work my camera is another thing I have to master in the next 30 days.

Precious and Lovey

I write non-fiction. OK, I write mostly non-fiction. I will admit there are times when I wax poetic or I embellish very little to the stories of my life. The facts are all there, but the descriptions and names change to protect my innocents. My innocents are my family and friends. Oddly enough, not everybody wants to be in my blogs or books. Sometimes the truth in the stories can hurt them and I NEVER want to do that. The truth at all cost is not my thing. It's not that I will lie about the facts of the story, but I will do whatever I can to protect the people I love, so they are never victimized by what I write. Not everybody wants their lives on display for all to see, judge and analyze. It is with the utmost respect for those I love that I guard their privacy and protect their hearts.
I have two girlfriends that have had for over twenty years. They are my best girlfriends. When I was younger, much younger, I really didn't have a best girlfriend. I wanted one, but found myself unable to form that particular attachment. As a small child I had girlfriends, but once I got into high school, I found that I was much more comfortable with boys than girls. I had trust issues with women. The back story to why that is, is still unknown to me. I just didn't have the ability to tell my secrets to any one girl, who I trusted completely with my heart and soul. In college that changed. I found my female soul mates and have been with them through thick and thin. They know all my dirty laundry. They know my heart and my soul. They have born witness to my confessions of all of my transgressions as a woman growing into her own skin. They rallied around me when Danny died. They traveled many miles to be with me when I was pregnant touching my unborn children through my expanding waistline, sending them love through their flesh and mine. In turn I have tried my level best to be there for them when I could. Out of the three of us, I was the only one to have children. My children are their children. Had I passed away when I was 28 during the delivery of my last child, they would have been the female influence on my kids. They would have been the keeper of the story of us and me. I love them as family. I love all of them, for exactly who they are, at any given moment, good or bad. I do this because they offer this to me. I will refer to my female soul mates as Precious and Lovey. That is who they are to me. That is who they will always be to me. They are my heart.
I met Precious first. She was perky, pretty, popular and represented my wilder side. Precious cannot be shocked. Her non judgmental attitude toward people is reflected in her sparkling eyes. She sees no wrong, only what is right with a person, place or thing. She is living hope. Precious has this infectious laugh that draws you in. Men and women want to be as close to Precious as they can possibly get. With open arms, she allows them in, with no forethought of malice or suspicion. Precious ( a name I have given her long before any movie came into the main stream) is as beautiful outside as she is inside. I don't think she ever realized fully her effect on the opposite sex. She, having wide eyes and smiling lips, was merely being her happy self. She is not one dimensional, as she is described here. She has faced her own demons, lived her own darkness, had her own stories of horror and heartbreak. She and I have spent hours on the phone laughing and crying at each others current fates.
Precious, Lovey and I share a love story of sisterhood. Precious and Lovey didn't know each other,except through me, but have over the years grown to guard the others heart when it looked as though it needed it. Lovey went through a time when she was isolated from us. She had hid from me and those who loved her because she thought of herself as unlovable. Precious and I would talk as I would cry because I missed my Lovey so very much.
"Give her time to come out of hiding. You know she loves you, right?" Precious would gently guide me back out of my selfishness. "Yes, but I want her back. I miss her and I need her." I cried as if I were abandoned child. "She will come back. Give her the love and time she deserves to figure this out. Can you do that for her? Would you do that for me?" Of coarse I would do that. I would give them body parts if they needed it. Eventually, Lovey did come out of hiding. I got her back and then some. Precious had held my hand, helping me be strong enough to wait it out. When we got Lovey back, I called Precious and told the joyous news. She and I danced together on the phone as I regaled the long journey of our Lovey and how well she was doing now.
Recently, I have had news from Precious that she is sick. Not just any kind of sick, but cancer sick. She has breast cancer. When she first told me, I froze. I became paralyzed at the notion that she had cancer. My personal experience with cancer is everybody I knew who had it died. I tried to sound upbeat when I spoke to her. I tried to feign optimism but feared she would hear the fatalism in my voice. In my family, cancer=death. Precious had a lumpectomy, went through chemo-therapy and was doing well. She had spent months being tired, weak and unable to fully engage in a conversation. I prayed for my Precious. I spent hours on my knees begging for her life to be spared. I was terrified of getting the same answer I had gotten with Danny, but much to my surprise things were going well. Precious healed and went back to work, socializing and life. The last we spoke on the phone, we declared our everlasting love for each other. Our bond has outlasted both of our first marriages, the raising of the 4 kids, funerals, sickness and weddings.
Precious is once again ill. She is religious about her check ups. The results of this past one were more spots and one in particular was invasive. She will have radical surgery in a few weeks. She sent me an email with vague information and ended it with "everything will be fine". That is her way of getting me not to panic. I will be strong for Precious, because it's the least thing I can do. I will hold vigil for her in my prayers until she is completely healed. I will spend my meditation time seeing her in my mind's eye healthy, happy and dancing. I will squash my pessimism and I will call Lovey and cry. I will sob gut wrenching tears, drenching my phone allowing all my fear, panic and heartbreak to escape in my other safe place, the strong arms of Lovey. Lovey will cradle my heart and remind me that all things have a reason, even the things we don't want, or think we cannot bare. Lovey will console me, guide me and love as she has done every day I have known her.
We are sisters, these women and I. We share something more binding than blood or heritage. We share each others hearts. It is remarkable that I have been so blessed to have not one, but two such close dear friends whom I have shared my entire adult life with. Even Oprah only has Gail. As I write this I begin to feel better. I feel more hopeful than I did when I first heard the news. My fear is sliding further away from me and I feel the internal warmth of my friends arms around my heart. That's the thing about friends, they can be miles and miles apart and we can still feel the love, as if they were right here with us, holding our hands. My only priority is to make sure Precious and Lovey feel the love they have from me.

Celebrate Good Times, C'mon!

I was talking to my daughter yesterday about how she and I are having a life moment together. We are both about to experience a once in a lifetime freedom at the same time. She is just starting out in her life and soon will be able to travel, live anywhere in the world she wants and discover new adventures for herself. I am about watch the graduation my last child and will have the exact same opportunity as my eldest child, to do and be anything I want.
When Danny died I was constantly reminded that the safety of my children hinged on my personal safety. I couldn't sky dive, swim in treacherous water, or do anything dangerous because I was the last remaining parent. I wouldn't want my kids to be orphans, would I? It has sat firmly on my shoulders for all of these years. I had thought, back when I first lost Danny, that when I turned forty seven I would be able to regain some of my freedom. My kids would be raised and I would have the opportunity to travel, see things, do things I had always wanted to do without the voice of doom ringing in my ears. Back then I wondered if we would all would survive the trek to the magical 47th birthday. This year on Mother's day I will turn 47 and a few weeks later Betty will graduate from high school. Michael and I will be letting out a collective sigh of relief.
I am excited at the prospect of being different. I tell my kids all the time if you want to be different, then be different. I was happy to see the janitor from Scrubs repeat the same thing on an episode and validate my hypothesis. Change is hard, I think we all know that, but it's hardly impossible. It will take some work on my part to start this chapter of my life and be a different version of me, hopefully a better version of my existing self. I am totally up for the challenge. I am currently conducting a little psychological and physical experiment for myself. I am allowing myself to morph into something I have never been before. I am allowing myself a little selfishness. I am putting my needs ahead of others for the first time in my life. As a nurse, I was a caretaker of the elderly, the terminally ill, the weakest and most feeble of mankind. I bathed them, fed them and looked after every aspect of their daily life and well being. As a mother, I did the same thing. I never questioned why I should, I only looked at each day as what was necessary for everyone's survival, except mine. My daughter, as the eldest child, has had much the same thought process as a care taker. Most eldest children take on the responsibility of their younger, less experienced siblings. She has taken care of her friends while she has been in college. I am trying to get her to see that we sent off to college to eliminate some of her responsibilities and she needs to be a little selfish now, before she gets married and has kids of her own. I want her to celebrate her independence and her ability to go anywhere she wants, be anything she wants, do anything she wants. She is going to blink and this will all be over and she will have to wait another twenty five years before the opportunity presents itself again. I mean no disrespect to motherhood, or being a wife. I wouldn't trade my life and all of it's chaos for anything, but I see very clearly how important it is to take advantage of any opportunity I have to celebrate just me. Having lived the other side of the coin, I have no regrets, but I do not want to miss out on spending time living exactly as I have always wanted to. I don't want her to miss that either.
While talking to my eldest child, my voice rose in excitement about what all we were going to be able to do. I spoke to her about traveling together to Europe and seeing incredible sights, drinking wine and appreciating great art, and dark haired, mysterious men. I spoke to her about all the things she could do on her own. I told her of my plan to do some things on my own , as well. I squealed and giggled with my child as we enjoyed my sometimes overly enthusiastic plans for our futures.
I am not privileged in any conventional sense. My privilege has always come from the friends I have made, the family I so dearly love and the pets who cuddle my feet. I have had to work long, hard hours for very little money, so creature comforts has not been my privilege. Do I wish the past different? I used to. I used to sigh and wish things had been easier for me. I sometimes regretted my decisions and wished I had been smarter, more open, less naive, and more savvy. Recently, part of my metamorphosis has been about letting go of any regret. Failure produces knowledge. Whether we are smart enough to learn the lessons are quite another thing, but the absolute byproduct of having tried something and failing miserably is knowledge. Surely, by now, I must be a genius.
This is a year to celebrate for me. It really should be a year to celebrate for everybody. If you got up this morning and drew breath, then trust me, you are having a good day. If your limbs still work and your mind can focus, mine starts right after the coffee hits my stomach, then you are having a great day. If you have people in your life that love and care about you, then your life is made!