...little 5 letter words...

In 1988, I was in 7th grade. I was the youngest child. I was "active-ish" in school, but my school was small and basically 'no-cut' for almost everything you tried out for. It was nice to be/feel a part of something, so I am not begrudging it. But, at the same time there was very little to do but school and the occasional after school activity. There were no cell phones, no social media, no messenger systems set up. If I was somewhere, I knew I would be picked up at the predetermined time. I lived in a smallish town, it was safe and I was never more than a 15 minute walk from home.

In 2018, I have a 7th grader. He is off season in any extracurricular activities, he  is less than 10 minutes from home at any given time. Tonight, for the first time, he was out by himself without an older brother at a basketball game. Funny how different 2018 is than 1988. He doesn't have a cell phone, neither did I, yet I was nervous. He is only four blocks from home, yet I was nervous. He lives in a smaller town than I did at his age, yet I was nervous. Despite the fact that we predetermined a time for him to be home, I was watching the clock like someone tracking contractions during labor....And cleansing breath.

I would like to think I learned something just by being a parent, but I am also aware that the title of parenting is a marathon, not a sprint. Sometimes, just a difference in perspective can be really eye opening, I am grateful for my husband to give me such perspective when I need it. We were talking about the kids one day, the routine rant about parenting and how I had hoped the kid's TELL ALL book at least was not sporting my face. My husband said something that seriously engrained in my brain, "You have to give them enough independence to prove themselves eventually. How will they ever learn if they do not learn it on their own?" This simple statement was like getting hit on the head by an anvil. While it is slightly cringe-worthy to a 'smother mother,' it is definitely a lesson for the both of us. You send them off, in this case with the lack of technology in their back pocket, completely blind and hope that they will prove within themselves the maturity they have. But moreover prove themselves to you, the person who brought them into this world, during a full moon,  and will take them out without question.

I found myself pacing, looking out the window, wondering if he would be coming back on time or not. I was slightly spoiled with his older brother who would come home 10 minutes before his curfew on the regular. Clearly, I know this will at-some-point end, but experience is what experience is. I thought to myself, with no external connection, how do I know where he is? If he is safe? If he's stealing liquor? But then, looking at the moon in exchange with the clock, I thought of the five letter word echoing through my head. The word that could bond you and your child in a way you might have been longing for since they started their "HELLISH-12s"(it is a thing, no one has the guts to bare to you). I would like to be able to belt it like Aretha, but the word of which I speak of in hushed reverent tones is...TRUST.

This word is dangerous, frightening, inspiring, gut wrenching and at times life altering. It means completely different things as your precious offspring grow up, but the first time you really feel it, deep in your knees, it is not only noteworthy, but there should be a cocktail/chocolate reward at the end...your choice. It is not taken lightly in this house, it has to be earned. Trust is something that can make your heart swell or break it on the turn of a dime. Trust is not a word used often during the phase of the "HELLISH-12s," except when you hear your inner monologue saying, trust me we are going to party like it is 1999 when this phase is over. I pray that we are turning the corner on this phase, but TRUST me in this fact, I know I still have a year left.

...my pretty corner of delirium

Turning the corner into technology, and realizing I am better at making cookies than computers. Nothing makes one feel more out of their minds, out of touch or plain idiotic like trying to use a new computer. My very wonderful husband gifted me a new computer for Mother's Day. It is beautiful and compact, but I have cussed at Siri enough times, even she requested a cocktail. Onwards and upward, I will figure it out eventually hopefully developing a believable poker face before my kids get home from school.

With end of the school year is upon us, I am going to have to get creative with the next 3 months ahead of me. The aspiring students have already pretty much mentally checked out about 2 weeks ago. The field trips, music programs, large projects are now ardently visible in the rearview mirror...all except one more diorama (that is a swear word in this house). But the silence that I currently enjoy now will be only a memory in 11 days. Eleven days to get my game face ready, get some projects lined up and possibly stock the liquor cabinet in hopes I am not backed into a corner.

There is a growing need to move around some subliminal corners and face some new views on life. A high schooler and junior high schooler will be in my midst this summer, some things in life are going to change hopefully for the better. I am constantly told that I, "...don't allow my kids to grow up." This summer is going to test that theory, optimistically without being seen throwing electronics out in the street. I have a list of exciting things I need to workshop around with this crew. We are going to get active or at least be actively trying to do more and couch potato less with our butts and our brains. We might master some cooking skills and learn a language just for starters. I am contemplating making a fake chore chart and daily schedule, so that when my real plan is unveiled it will appear epic. The only way to con a con man is with a con? Possibly, but I am not taking any chances.

Only Nora is playing sports this summer and she's pretty excited about it. She volunteered to be the catcher at the first softball practice, admitting later when she raised her hand she didn't know what was the catcher. She is the tallest one on the team and actually listens to the coaches, thankfully. I look forward to seeing how it all plays out on the field, her personality and her ability. I feel like I talk about her a lot, but I think it is because I wish I was more like her in ways. She goes at every new experience full on thinking, "Well, I'm probably an expert in this so it will be fun..." She never lacks in confidence and frankly has life more figured out than most. She doesn't have corners in her world, just wide open spaces.

I was having a conversation with Oscar, talking about going into high school. He was explaining his schedule and the different things he would need to do. I asked him if he was nervous and he said a little went on to explain why. There is nothing quite like hearing your child understand and recognize lessons they have learned on their own from their past, from their own mistakes or missed opportunities. In this moment I wanted to look around and ask, "Who else heard that?" I was the only one there, but I felt like a corner was turned and unknowingly a Mother's Day gift was given.

Since I started writing this blog, my life has completely changed in so many ways. My characters (i.e. my kids) have altogether changed their character motivation. Despite the fact they don't believe me, I am ecstatic to watch them grow and change into the people they were meant to be. I feel like through this blog I had a lot more to learn about myself. It is very easy to hide behind telling stories about my kids, the hard stuff to write is about myself. But some where through this, I started to say, "Yes". Turning a corner and saying yes to life, to happiness, to admitting struggles, and to believing in myself. I feel like life opens up in a way you not only need but deserve, you just have to say yes.

So, my pretty corner of delirium is has been rebuilt, redecorated and faded away making the way for new lessons and chapters in life. Usually six steps forward only to take two steps back at times, but any lesson worth learning is one that doesn't come easy. For now, this is where I leave you. Maybe the next time we meet I'll be speaking French flambéing something or making some kick ass curry and naan. At any rate, it is time to get out of the corner, see what life has and say yes.

...shrewd business moguls say what?

It is a regular spring occurrence that a bird hits a window. It startles me at first and then I look outside to make sure there were no casualties. My windows are not as clean as they should be, my house for that matter is not as clean as it should be. My kids are not as reverent, polite or quiet as they should be. But for one brief moment in the THUNDER DOME that is mornings around here, I was thankful that some feathered friend thought my window was so clean it was nonexistent...until I went out a couple of hours later and found it dead in front of my mailbox. RIP friend, you made my day, for a few hours. Goals.

So, it got me to thinking, of course instead of cleaning. There are phrases/clichés in life that just exist. Some are clever ways of ending conversations,"...and that was that." Others are meant to be said to give a verbal nod to not know what to say, "...it is what it is." Some are said out of frustration, some are uttered out of lack of understanding and others said so often at this point they have lost their meaning entirely. At any point, if there is one, when will we as humans stop speaking and start doing.

When a baby cries, it is their way of communicating, because they cannot actually take care of themselves. They get older, become verbal, can drink from a glass, yet you are destined at least once to hear, "...can you come wipe my butt..." What? Why are you asking instead of doing it yourself? The older we get we are still like babies, trying to communicate despite the fact that we can accomplish ourselves more if we just acted instead of speak.

There are a few choice phrases in this house that my husband and I have had to come to terms over. Sadly not one of them is, "...mom, you've worked hard, go take a nap," but I digress. These choice phrases, admittedly, I have let fall on deaf ears over the years, but currently they are at an all-time high. There have been a few discussions of banning them all together in this house. Not ironically they are usually spoken about 2 minutes after said discussion. Now, I would find no fault in the following phrases:

I cleaned the bathroom.
Dinner was good (with a clean plate).
The laundry is finished and put away.
I just flossed my teeth.

But, let us be real here...these will never probably happen. I think I would be frightened if it did. The phrases on the docket for banning in this household are as follows:

That is unfair.
I am bored.
I am hungry.

These cyclical phrases are uttered by all of my children no less than 2 times a day each. The hunger comes about 40 minutes after eating, mainly because did not finish the last meal and they are bored. The boredom comes from not doing what they want to do instead of what they need to do, or at least help out. The unfairness in this house runs rampant as various ages should be allotted different privileges. Over time, I know I have just tuned out some utterances whilst being said. I would scoff it off, and mutter something under my breath and move on. But, after a while, it resembles a powder keg. At any given time, I would like to be about a two on the tension scale. Hearing the afore mentioned phrases, it climbs to a nine more quickly than I would like. With the air of spring, there are changes coming. I am lucky and grateful to have high functioning little humans in my midst...it's time to put that to good use.

"That is not mine," almost up there with "I have no idea how that broke." Well, we enter a dicey intersection with these mantras as I call them, as they seemed to be spoken like prayer in this house. New rules: If you have to step over it to get where you are going, pick it up. If it is broken, fix it. Seems like something that should not have to be actually verbalized, but we are keeping it simple around here.

Laundry encompasses everyone. No nudists in this house, well at least not on a daily basis. If someone is bored I guarantee there is a pile of laundry somewhere in this house that needs cleaned, folded or put away. Fighting boredom and being productive, it is like we are living in Neverland without a wardrobe change. In this house there are more wardrobe changes than at a Beyoncé concert....thus the never ending laundry, never ending FUN.

Yard work can be done by all who are upright and walking. No one needs a detailed list of things to help with outdoors, nor do they need to confer with their union president, I am the union president. As I was explaining this to my dear children I told them merely asking to help is the first step, the rest will fall into place (why else would I have no less than 6 rakes in my garage?). Plus, there is the satisfaction they will learn to appreciate after a couple of hours of hard work, or at least I hope.

Lastly, when the above mentioned are discussed the phrase that can follow incites a slight tinge of rage"...how much are we getting paid?" I count to ten, make a mental cocktail, remember that these precious offspring might one day be shrewd business moguls and say, "...more money than you had before you started the job. Mom is going to take a nap."

...when the sugar buzz wears off...

This time of year makes me nostalgic, the fresh breeze, the warming temperatures, the bursting blooms of flowers and trees all around...well, scratch a few of those, but you get what I mean. This time of year everything sort of becomes new again, new color, new hue, beauty where drear once lain. Memories of Easter as the kids were growing. New memories being made with little ones who still devour the magic of this time of year like eating the first Peeps of the season.

I'm excited to celebrate Easter this year. We have lots of food planned, games to play and despite the bender Mother Nature has been on, a ton of eggs to hunt. Sidebar, Easter candy is my nemesis. I imagine it stems from giving it up every year for Lent when I was a kid. Let me just say, I had to sample some of the impending hunt's loot. But, most of all, I'm excited to celebrate together as a family, try some new traditions, eat, laugh and sneak some Easter candy.

My one and only hope through time, traditions and memory making is with every year, even after the magic is lost, the excitement doesn't diminish just becomes renewed. I have enjoyed watching the Talls cultivate Atticus' excitement, like watching a beautiful plant bloom. This year he is very interested in our Easter Eggster, more observant than any other year. Ours is a squirrel who seems to forget to move regularly, thankfully he likes to hang out in our peanut bowl. I think it adds to it's authenticity, and explains my lack of memory. Nora is a wild card on this whole topic. I'm not sure if she's going along for the ride or still believes and doesn't want to look childish to her older siblings. It is a slippery slope of to believe or not believe, and no one wants to ask the question.

So many questions as a parent. Some you want to know the answers, some you fear the answers, some you hope you are never asked. Like the other day when Atti asked if I would have another baby...? Not sure if he wants someone to corrupt or if he was worried about his position/station in this family. I reassured him that no, he was probably going to always be the youngest, unless we adopted a Guinea pig, which by the way will never happen. The puberty video behind us, we hung up the important pamphlet on the fridge, knowing it might shame the owner of getting too technical with his younger siblings. Life is too short to know everything at six...where's the fun in that?


My optimistic goal is to enjoy another holiday together, or survive? Ask me for a status report on Sunday about 5 p.m. Hopefully by then everyone is fed, the sugar buzz has worn off and all either believe in the magic of this holiday or pretend to believe that we are a normal family. From ours to yours Happy Easter making memories with the ones you love.

...yes, my inner voice cusses a little.

We came. We saw. Despite the lack of trying by my offspring, we did not drink the water. We soaked up the sun, had new adventures, talked to strangers, drank overpriced cocktails, ate ice cream every waking hour and bought a few Mexican wrestling masks. Never taking a vacation with my husband before, I learned a lot. He's way calmer than I am. He loves souvenir shops like I do. He can turn any situation that may be going down in flames into fun. He smiles a lot, but not as much as when he's on vacation. And my OCD doesn't annoy him. I was organizing all of our tickets, passports and flight schedules and he turned to me and said, "I have never been turned on more..." We survived a honeymoon with kids...not sure those words have ever been used together in a sentence. Now, back to reality.

I need to start infusing my water or cocktails with GINKO BILOBA. My brain seems to constantly be in hyper drive, yet the cleanliness of my house doesn't really reflect it. I seem to feel like I cannot ever catch up lately. My hope was that when spring came, all would fall into place. It's here but it just isn't quite caffeinated enough for me yet. I look out and see the dreary weather and I just don't have the drive to attack the world. Like an awkward hug from a stranger, I think to myself, "Heart in the right place, but never again? Right? Right."

There are eye appointments to be made, Easter baskets to be filled, Easter cooking lists to be made...Suddenly, I can't make a decision, and my husband would laugh as I am the most indecisive person on earth. And then those things that should be small victories, like being the tooth fairy, I drop the ball. This morning I crafted a left-handed-written note apologizing and slipped a little extra money into the mix for my indiscretion. How many more teeth can she lose? Thankful that she isn't starting to take it personal, as she's the one the tooth fairy always seems to "forget". She'll write all about it later in her tell-all book, The Tooth Fairy that Sucked. Just another Thursday around here, I guess.

Tomorrow is another day, actually on my calendar it is marked PUBERTY DAY. I was given a permission note to sign for Abe to watch the infamous "This Is Your Body" video. As he hands it to me he says, "Hold off on signing that, I want to see if my friends are going to watch it..." I assured him that it probably didn't matter whether they were, he would be watching. Not sure if I was reassured he wanted to make sure his crew was ready for puberty before he jumped into the deep end. The questions might be interesting around here about 3:30 p.m. tomorrow...that reminds me, I need to go to the liquor store.

The rantings of a mother of four have begun to bore me most of the time. I am forever trying to find something for my kids to do, together, that's fun and doesn't require a screen. My standing as a tooth fairy more than slightly besmirched, I'm looking for redemption. My regular stand-by activities aren't as shiny to my offspring as they once were. I find myself finding "projects" for us to do, and my mind immediately ventures. It ventures down the picturesque road of Bitching and Whining, its north of Washington Street, East of Elm. First come the indignant looks, then the complaining and in the end I have to clean up a mess. I've even contemplated asking the very loaded question, what would you all like to do together? Knowing the varied answers would probably not be even close to the low budget lives that my children seem to forget we have.

Bottom line, back from paradise and now I'm in a rut, and I'm not a rut person. So, in the effort to kick this rut to the curb, I'm on hold for the optometrist, scrolling through Pinterest, trying to quiet the voices in my head and find something for us to do. The tooth fairy stayed up too late watching the puberty video, spring has sprung, sort of, and I'm trying to make memories here dammit...yes, my inner voice cusses a little.

...hope you can tread water

When my kids were young, as I was waking at dawn to tap a vein for coffee, starting thereafter to attend to all of their needs, my body was busy, but my mind set adrift to the future. Wiping behinds, pouring milk, cleaning up toys and making snacks, I wondered what life would be like when they all were older and wearing their yoke of independence. I guess I had hoped that I would be different from all of the other moms in the world...my kids would grow into those idyllic kind you see on TV, and appreciate me for all that I do for them. Life is not an after school special and when the pre-teen-angst-axis shifts, (I literally just got chills) you contemplate how much time you wasted wondering, when you could have learned Farsi. You suddenly realize, you've hit the "hormonal highway to hell"...again.

At first I thought it was just exhaustion, maybe they were overtired or even coming down with a bug of some sort. Then the eye rolling began, followed by the lack of following directions, lastly the dramatic stare that stood for something or other...I fell for that trick the first time on my hormonal highway to hell. It was when I said, "Stop acting like a dip-shit," while it was under my breath, I heard it and I knew...we're there, again. It's all starting over again. While the view is different, it smells the same. I've done this once, I can do it again? That really shouldn't be a question as I have to do it three more times, but my inner monologue is a little judgy at times. Sometimes when I think of the hormonal road ahead, I wish I could develop a more atune case of Stockholm syndrome, at least until they're 18. While I will always love my kids, I don't always have to love my captors.

So, flushed with fear and loathing, not really sure if I'm referring to myself or my offspring, I head out armed and hopefully ready for the road ahead. Hey, what about a vacation? It's been years since we've had a vacation, even longer the kind where I don't have to do anything but just show up. Wouldn't it be great to take the kids on our honeymoon? That should have been a trick question, but we're making it one big family festivity. The packing began, much to the amusement of my husband, about 3 weeks ago. Living in the frozen tundra of the Midwest, when would these kids be needing shorts? Then came all of the questions...why do we have to pack that? Why would we need that? Why would we care what you pack, just do it for us. All the while, as I'm trying to maintain my composure, reminding myself that I will be sunning myself and doing absolutely nothing in the near future, I start having flashbacks. It's like PTSD, but a special kind only mothers have with whiny voices and arguments...THERE'S NO WHINING IN PARADISE?!?! I have been known to mention to my kids that they could go off and live with the Amish, but saying that in Mexico, no Bueno. Who am I kidding? I'll be grateful to just get through the airport.

I'm hoping the fresh warm air of some far off destination will change everyone's mindset, mannerisms and mood swings. I'm hoping some vitamin D, lack of electronics, beautiful scenery and possibly a very large cocktail with an umbrella in it, will at least once again align us where the winter season had us in mental fisticuffs at times. I'm excited and planning on taking a much needed detour from the hormonal highway to hell, anyone who isn't interested can swim home.

Groundhog says what?

Getting yanked from a seemingly perfect slumber could be a little alarming, not to mention create the business end of a hissy-fit. It's a lot of pressure to put on someone, then somehow give one's best work, most lucid and rational response. Not even 37 seconds ago you were warm, dreaming of a beach vacation and somewhere along the way you developed a bikini body...yeah, the stuff that dreams are made of. Only to be woken up, for no satisfying reason, other than to have a man declare you saw your shadow.

While the above clearly describes 'ol Punxsutawney Phil, I shudder to realize this actually could be describing my life every Saturday. Being awoken, dozens of minutes before anyone would deem to open their eyes on a weekday, only to be told, "...mom, I'm up." Um, good to know, and is also loosely translated as, "Are you getting up to satisfy my every wanted need?" Groundhog says WHAT? Why? Where? How?

I should tell you this isn't a rant. This isn't some declaration that moms all over the world have the crap end of the stick (read my bumper sticker). This isn't a testament to the wonderful humans I call my children (don't own that bumper sticker). This is a message about time, talent, knowing when to call the fight and when to storm the beaches...however, if I am seemingly pulling off a bikini body, do not wake me, I WILL CUT YOU!

We all have talents, we compliment others on them probably more frequently than we ever would for ourselves. You go out into the work force and clearly your talents are rewarded, I mean you have a job, right? For those who work at home, we secretly know what we are good at, despite the fact that somethings may never indeed echo anything you could put on a resume. Work it. Own it. Be the best damned laundry folder/ cupcake maker/DVR-show-finder out there. You deserve it! Personally, I fold a great fitted sheet, and have also been told that I am a witch, but I digress.

Know when to call the fight. Everyone comes into contact with someone who just get their big time thrills...arguing. I have a few living in this house. I used to engage at first, in what I assume would be a friendly debate. However, despite the fact that they do not pay taxes, kids are all knowing (not on a bumper sticker). As things became unfriendly, I just shut up. What did it matter who won the fight? Call it already and move your happy ass out of there. It's healthy, it's responsible, and boy does it drive my "Great Debater" up a tree...a win/win if you will.

Storming the beaches- man I want a vacation, like a warm, sun shiny, sit on my money maker vacation...sorry. Storming the beaches is when you've sat, listened, waited and debated on when to break up some nonsense. Either you hit your breaking point or you are about to hear someone's face be broken. You walk in, separate and shut it down. Extra points for no words spoken, sort of puts people on point. Truly, this could be done in a house full of kids, or a break room full of employees, your call.

Lastly, I feel it necessary to talk about time. It's unforgiving, fickle, fantastic, terrifying, and educational and only moves forward. It is something that denotes growth, oblivescence and knowing how you got to where you are now. I was reminded in the last month multiple times how much time has changed things, people, feelings and situations. I admittedly was terrified of time at some point. As in would I have time to make it right? Would I have time to understand even if I did? I used to wonder about my kids growing up, now I wonder who turned on the warped speed to life. I can look back at pictures and ponder memories, and genuinely smile. Not because I necessarily, had it all together, not even close. Moreover, time gave me what I have, and that pretty amazing. And, I'm not obtuse enough to think that these kids will be growing up any slower. It does beg me to shout out occasionally, "WARP SPEED? Captain Scotty that Groundhog has never been on the Enterprise!!!"

...Mrs. Raj

It is funny how life changes in the blink of an eye. One minute you are either mentally hanging yourself or patting yourself on the back for surviving. The thing that should never cease to exist in life is owning how you probably had nothing to do with any of the above other than merely having a pulse in that moment. There will always challenges physically or within you that if you aren't careful, will make you miss a chance, a moment of greatness that you might not ever get to have again. Life is not about the amount of breaths you take, it's about the moments that take your breath away...

I remember talking to a friend, chronicling all of my timelines on life/relationships/wellbeing. She heard what I had to say, gave a thoughtful pause, and basically told me I was full of crap. She rebutted with the notion, "Who makes up these timelines? Why do you have them? Is it a defense mechanism or are you knowingly okay with throwing away something great, because of your fear?" I hated to admit it, but she was completely correct...it was time to allow a few moments that could take my breath away.

If you are lucky in life you find a great love. The love of adolescence is different than that of a 40+ year old, with age comes the foresight, judgement and balance of knowing not only what your heart wants but what you want. I am fortunate to have found a person, who not only will put up with me, but completes me in a way I never thought possible. I am blessed to be given a chance to love this person in a way I missed dearly. I am grateful that he has become not only someone I couldn't imagine living without, but he is also that person to my kids as well. He is symmetry. He is equanimity. He makes me smile and laugh like no one else has. My soul was searching for someone, never really believing I would find them...but every day with him, sort of takes my breath away.

Atti has been practicing standing for weeks...no really. He wanted to make sure he got it right. Nora has been practicing her wedding reception dance moves with Jimmi for months. She found the best sort of music, practiced her twirls and our kitchen resembled a dance studio every weekend. One time while Jimmi and she were dancing/practicing she asked if the singer was Harry Connick Jr. Jimmi said it was Sinatra, but they did sound similar. As they twirled and laughed I found myself smiling, not just on my face, but the kind of smile that comes from your toes and works its way upward and outward...and it took my breath away.

Nearly two weeks ago, running late, slightly exhausted from over planning and trying to remain calm all at the same time, I was speeding down the highway with the Talls. We were supposed to be at the reception venue to start pictures at 2 p.m. It was already 1:45 p.m. we were in route and I wasn't even dressed. I looked in the rearview mirror, marveling in my head how completely handsome the boys looked in their tuxedos. They didn't look uncomfortable but they did look scared. I was ranting about how we were going to be late and Oscar said, "So, how does this work?" Confused I asked what he meant. He said, "We walk down the aisle and then what?" I said it was a wedding not the SAT, to which he alerted me, they'd never been to a wedding they had only seen one on TV. In all of my over planning, I never factored that notion into my head. Thankfully, explaining what would happen took my mind off being late. I ended very simply with, "It's just like having a baby, they'll tell you what to do when you get there..." not the best analogy, but anyway.

Dress was put on, pictures were taken, directions were given and it was nearly time to start the wedding. As soon as Jimmi proposed, we decided that Nora would be my maid-of-honor and that Atti would be his best man and the boys would be groomsmen. Ultimately, we wanted to keep it about family as our lives were coming together. I would throw out notions in the weeks there after to the Talls about who of them would walk me down the aisle, thinking if it were their idea it would be better than making demands. In a last minute decision, Oscar said he would walk me down the aisle. I will never forget the feeling that gave me nor was I prepared for how slightly overcome with emotion I was, holding onto his arm walking me down the aisle. I thought about how proud I was of him, how handsome he looked and how grateful I was to be his mom...and it took my breath away.

As the ceremony started, I tried not to look out into the audience for fear I would miss something in front of me. I looked at Jimmi in his tuxedo, knowing that it would take my breath away, and indeed it did. I saw Atti holding his hand, which wasn't practiced but it made my heart smile. There on the other side of me was the afore mentioned friend, the one who told me to get out of my own way and let life and experiences happen. As she was marrying us, I tried to not get emotional. I tried to not forget how monumental the moment was. I tried to look at his face and make a mental imprint, all the while reminding myself how grateful I was...for him, my kids, the bumps life has given me and the adventures that await. The rest of the night? A fun and frenzied mix of friends, family, dancing and celebrating. We would be mingling on opposite sides of the room with our guests, a song that we liked would come on and we'd immediately find each other on the dance floor. It was an unbelievable night, which I wish we could do once a month because it was so freaking fun.

The reception food leftovers are gone, the last of the wedding cake devoured by the kids last night and a few brownies that I've hidden for the hard times remain. The thank you notes have been sent and life is returning to normal. I am reminded of where I was a year ago, never anticipating how life would be for me today...all thanks to getting out of my own way and remembering, life is not about the amount of breaths you take, it's about the moments that take your breath away. Thank you Jimmi for giving me these moments daily.

Shady Day

So, a strange thing happened to me yesterday. I was checking out at a store and the lady in front of me turned to me and said, "I don't really know you, but I keep up with you through friends on social media. I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you that you are getting remarried. You deserve to be happy, you and your kids have been through a lot. I'm so glad that life is treating you well." I thanked her and said considering where I was five years ago at this time, I never imagined my life would be what it is today.

The "Dark Day"...everyone has one. Whether it be a day of sadness, remembrance or the scab of grief that never fully heals itself. These days are met at times with shuttering anticipation, self-evaluation and the prophetic wonder about what the next "dark day" will look like. Through time, one hopes to see this day come and go, surviving it unscathed with hopefully a nugget of wisdom attached. Grief, sadly for those who experience it, is atemporal, free from limitations of time. However, happiness is also atemporal, if one continues to see a silver lining, no matter how difficult it might be. Yesterday, it was a stranger who made sure to remind me the millions of reasons I have to smile.

For me, this day is a day I have been wondering about for the last five years. I wondered how I would be five years beyond. I wondered how I would figure out how to go on living, raising kids, making ends meet, single parenting and basically holding it all together without my best friend. I remember looking at my mom and saying, "I can't do this." Fully not believing in myself because I never had to before in this way. This extreme way of dealing with life basically alone, other than the offspring that we created, my best friend and I. The mere notion of being outnumbered and raising kids I knew I would most definitely screw up...how's that for atemporal?

Today five years later, I'm grateful. I'm grateful for the chance to have become a mother, the toughest job you'll ever love. I'm grateful to have had a best friend who I am sure is looking down on our kids with pride, and occasionally laughing his ass off at the antics they attempt. I'm grateful for the support of friends and family, encouraging me to not forget my strength. I'm grateful for the chance to fully accept that life is not always kind, so take what you are given and live it to its fullest. I'm grateful for the arguments my kids had with me this morning about wearing their hats, and my come back to them, "Well, you're going to take them off as soon as I pull away from the school- humor me, please." I'm grateful for a cocktail some days. I'm grateful for the chance I've been given to be a wife again. I'm grateful for someone to love again. I'm grateful for the understanding that the last five years have given me. Today is not where I thought I would be five years ago, it is way better than I could ever have anticipated. No one is in jail (yet), only a few trips to the ER, and we've all endured this thing called life.

Through the years, on this "dark day" I would never look at social media. I would never sit down or sit still for fear I might lose it. My phone was put away and the kids and I would set out on an adventure. I had always hoped that eventually, the "dark day" could just become a "shady day," knowing only time would get us there eventually. I sort of feel like it has. Five years later, we're scaling back a bit, having a nice dinner, sharing fun memories about their dad...and buying shoes. (GASP!!!!) Anyone with offspring know, buying shoes for one kid, let alone four is something akin to any myriad of the tactics used at Guantanamo Bay. A cocktail at dinner for me and ice cream for the kids afterwards will be the reward for somehow not getting arrested in a department store today. Five years later, I'm still thanking Jason for the gifts he has given me. Also, I want to thank those gifts, my kids, for always giving me a reason to look for a silver lining, not only on this "shady day" but every day.

Just to be safe, here's a heads up if I call you from the police station, I'm going to need a ride.

...when in doubt, know your assets!

The rare and fun-filled world of parenting is often a topic that I write about. Some days you are "killing IT" and some days you are "being KILLED." It is not only a metaphoric tight-rope, but a very real one to walk. You are up there, high above the ground below, trying not to stare into the abyss and all the while you have a wedgie, full knowing the world can see the better part of your left butt cheek. Try as you may, you face each day with some far fledged positive mantra, hoping at least by 5 p.m. there is some semblance of said mantra in existence and possibly you have a cocktail in your hand. It's living the dream, despite it's affinity to a nightmare.

There is a word, French in origin, rapprochement. It sounds fancy when properly pronounced but it basically means, an establishment or reestablishment of harmonious relations. THIS IS MY LIFE, at least from 6:30 a.m. to 8 p.m. Try as I may, my abilities to speak French, have been lacking. I have uttered no less than 6 times in the last few weeks the unvirtuous, unrestrained and unmannerly phrase of, "...opinions are like butt holes, everyone has them, but no one wants to see them unless asked." Poet laureate of Washington Street that I am, no truer words could be spoken in this house. Not all opinions need to be voiced, not all decisions need to be questioned and not all thoughts need to be spoken. Especially, if it has absolutely nothing to do with you. I was unaware that I would be given a job evaluation daily when I started having kids. Unaware that my parenting decisions could/would be questioned on a daily basis. Did I miss that in the weekly memo? Is my union aware of this? Oh wait, it's a union of one, and the scrimmage of teenager vs. parent.

I was reminded of all of the above and did some reciprocal reminding first thing this week. My ever-opinionated-teenager (EOT) told me that I never listen to his opinion. I sort of shook my head in disbelief. He recanted and said, "Well, the only time you have is that one time when I was agreeing with you." I asked him, have I ever asked you for your opinion? Yes, yes I have. He kind of looked at me and then rolled his eyes. I then went on to explain that yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion. However, when they are expressed as judgements and criticisms, that opinion is never appreciated or required to be said. Those same judgements and criticisms made not only trip my freak trigger, enlarge the vein in my neck, turn my eyes yellow but also show the rest of the people in this house that disrespect is tolerated. Clean underwear, brushed teeth, a nice veggie tray, a rousing game of Uno, your favorite meal and dare I say a compliment? These things are not only tolerated but welcomed dearest EOT. They are the things that will get you further in life that stating your opinion. This isn't the end of the scrimmage, merely round one. I ended my conversation with my EOT, noting that one day I will have a house full of card-carrying EOTs, and while that was frightening, I was mentally training for it.

I'm dating myself with this reference, but it is the only one that comes to mind. My life, at times, is like the movie Speed. As long as you keep the bus moving at 55 miles per hour, no lives will be spared. But, Keanu Reeves, try keeping four of your offspring perpetually happy all at the same time...impossible. Someone's wants and needs are never going to be fully met, least of which my own. I would think by now I've efficiently educated my children on this concept, but alas I wasn't clear enough in my execution. I've decided, that's crap, dammit, I'M FREAKING HAPPY!! I'm the happiest I've been in years. So I'm laying down a declaration: If you want to be happy, it's on you...your attitude, your respectfulness, your willingness to help yourself and the capability to do all of the above and leave no one slain in your wake. I realize I'm spelling this out in a rather dramatic way, but hell hath no fury like a mother who is reminded of her less than worth, when she just folded your damned underwear. I realize, not every day can be perfect. BUT slap a smile on that face, keep your opinions to yourself, chant that mantra and be proud of that left butt cheek the world may be seeing, it's your best asset!

"...am I getting paid for this?"

In an effort to understand, survive and coexist with the burgeoning teenagers in my house, I have begun making a list. Some of the things that cannot be placed on this list are facial expressions, eye twitches that are definitely voluntary and the utter lack of a human mute button. The things my teenagers say are so plentiful, I know I must block some of them out just as a survival mechanism. The following are just a few gems I have heard this week. If you are a parent of a teenager, good luck, God's speed and try to stay out of the liquor cabinet.

 

 

 

The things that teenagers say...Volume I

 

"...it is against the law to want to mentally throw me out of the car."

 

"...I don't need to wear my retainers, the orthodontist was wrong."

 

"...I can't be expected to use the same towel two days in a row, anyway, what's the big deal?" (Upon me seeing six towels on the bathroom floor)

 

"...what is the big deal with picking that up for me?"

 

"...my opinions on parenting matter."

 

"...am I getting paid for this?"

 

"...why can't I have something else for dinner?"

 

"...it is an invasion of my privacy to look at my phone."

 

"...I am never moving, and you should think about that if you decide to."

 

"...I'm just helping him get to the next level." (While grounded from his iPad and on his brother's)

 

"...you can't expect me to remember to (insert common hygiene action here) on my own"

 

"...you might have been in eighth grade, but it's different now."

 

"...I need special toothpaste."

 

"...you told me what I couldn't eat, you didn't tell me what I could"

 

"...my chore list is old, I thought I was only supposed to do that for two weeks"

 

"...clearly, that teacher has it in for me, she expects me to work harder than the rest of the class"

 

"...what's the big deal?" (Possibly the worst/most used expression from his age group)

 

"...but why?" (Second worst/most used expression from his age group)

 

"...are you going to wear that?" (While he's wearing 3 different patterns and has his socks pull up)

 

"...but I'm getting gum, why do I have to brush my teeth?"

 

"...it's fine." (When asked a specific question)

 

 

I know I'm only scraping the surface with these...please feel free to add to this list as necessary. Good luck!

...over a dirty martini and a veggie tray

Some games you play, some you endure. Some have lavish hand gestures or overly complicated rules, and for the sake of your sanity you just end up making up the rules as you go. Life lesson there? Not really, but you shouldn't want to drink from a liquor bottle with a straw for some family game time, right? Well, maybe don't answer that right away. We have a lot of games in this house, physical and mental. With the physical everyone is eager at first, but usually only a handful want to take the time together and play. Then there is always that forever optimist who believes winning isn't everything...but damn, it feels good to rub it in your brother's faces when you do. Life lesson there? A very large one, but there are times in life when it is kill or be killed- the lesson is in knowing the difference.

The mental games are just the normal tug of the-fighting-for-independence-rope...when usually both parties would be eternally better off just keeping their mouth shut and nodding. I'm fully aware that you have an opinion, you are of course related to me, but I do not really need/require/yearn to hear it at 7:09 a.m., or let's face it anytime unless asked. I realize that your opinions matter, but loudly declaring them doesn't make them any more or less necessary, and that goes for myself and my offspring. The mental game is primarily that of: I am your mother. You came from me because I remember the day fairly vividly. My job is to take care of you, keep you out of jail, not injured, fed and clothed. When you are an adult, this mental game will hopefully end and you can screw your life up anyway you see fit. That is my gift to you, it's just going to take about 5-15 years until you get to open such a splendidly wrapped present. The lapses in judgement, they are all yours to own, be it in an orange jumpsuit or in a 3 piece suit. All I ask, is that you do not make them under my watch because not only does it make life tougher, but you will finally see that vein on my neck blow. My goal is to get those I brought into this world to learn to play the game by the rules, endure the mental games and be understanding when they chose not to...such things are not clearly written in the rule booklet.

This game we play...This game we endure, called life, is sometimes played dirty, sometimes gives you bragging rights and sometimes needs to not be overthought. This game, much like the Laverne and Shirley Game, basically goes on and on until you learn why you were put on this earth in the first place. Being a mother/woman/friend/human it is hard to relate some things to your kids. The old phrase, "learning the hard way..." comes to mind. You've seen the scenery, but you really wouldn't recommend it. I've made some bad choices, some obvious lapses in judgement. On the other hand I've made some great choices and taken some great risks in the quest for enlightenment and happiness, sometimes out of necessity and sometimes with the knowledge that I'm worth it. Life lesson there? Heck yes! It was individual and it was on my own terms. At the end of my game, it's going to be up to the Lord and I to sort all of that out. If it is anything line I imagine, I'm figuring over a dirty martini and a veggie tray.

The Halloween Conundrum

It is only September 20. It's not even officially autumn yet, I know. But things around here start to look like autumn, well, about the day after Labor Day. It is a crisp (hopefully) season that brings to mind the retirement of swimsuits and the resurgence of sweaters, jeans, warm wooly blankets and beautiful color. I mean really, it is the only time of year when people like the color orange. It's pumpkin patches, hot cider, It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown and less daylight...basically, the best time of the freaking year. For most people, it is the time when kids start to talk about Halloween costumes.

For us? It starts about January. Some take that long to afford, some take that long to make and others have to be talked down from being something no one will understand the motivation. "Yes, Nora. Being a female Indiana Jones is important and exciting, but unless someone is also following you around with the theme music, I'm thinking no one will understand it." She likes to think way outside of the box. Usually, Oscar has some grandiose costume that outside of a professional theater department no one could really replicate. Atticus usually choses some super hero to represent and I spend the night watching him fall down as the costume is ill fitting. Abe? Well, he honestly, and I swear I'm not choosing favorites, has the best costumes.

It isn't because he is overthinks them. It isn't because he's slight and can fit into anything. He keeps it simple and seriously nails the entire character. One year he wanted to be Superman, and I was for some reason feeling like I needed to make the costume. He committed to the character, he wore navy tights and bright red girls bloomer shorts that I bought at a flea market. Before we left the house, he was 2 years old mind you, he had to fix his hair as to have the perfect Superman curl on his forehead. Since then, the costumes have become easier, but he takes usually something we have lying around the house and turns it into a recognizable costume. So secretly, as noting it aloud would be like I'm living out Sophie's Choice around here, I eagerly wait to see what Abe will chose to be for Halloween.

This year however, we might have it a Halloween conundrum...the kind that I feared would happen eventually. After weeks of people telling me what they are going to be, some I understood, some I did not, Abe declared that he was probably going to stay home. While I thought  to myself, I guess he could pass out candy- I quickly shuttered. I'm sorry, I misunderstood. What? WHAT? I thought to myself, he is only in the sixth grade? He can't be giving up yet? Sure, Oscar should probably not trick-or-treat this year as he is a giant with a ridiculously low voice, I'm not trying to give little old ladies heart attacks. But Abe? This is the last bastion of his youth, in a non creepy way. This is the last year he won't be looked at as a hooligan. This is the time when he still needs to be a kid.

As many topics of the hot-button-variety in this house, I flippantly let it go. My hope is that for a minute he wanted to hear himself act "grown-up" and eventually he'll come to his senses. He could actually hold the record for the most houses visited in the shortest amount of time and I can't imagine he could resist the candy. The fact of the matter is, if he decides to give up Halloween, I guess that is his decision. It's a part of life, I have to let them grow. While I'm grateful for the air to get crisp, watching your red bloomered boy grow up, might require some grown-up cider.

...just finished my shift at San Quinten

Kids misbehave, it is a part of life. It is how they learn boundaries, sense of self and right from wrong. Sounds like a load of crap, I know, but it is what it is. I remember when I didn't have to play both good and bad cop, I was a lot stricter when it came to the rules. I was like a drill sergeant, and while it probably looked like I just finished my shift at San Quintin, everyone was more or less well behaved. And then I became outnumbered...

But, as time pressed on I was sick of being a witch all the time, so I learned not to "choose my battles." I loathe that phrase. It basically means, sorry, while you know you are right, your child will be allowed to act like an ass-hat on this occasion. I'm not having that. I moreover just used avoidance and deaf ear, knowing that they knew they were acting like ass-hats, why should I have to remind them? From time to time, I would have to walk into my room alone and do a routine of silent obscenities and rude hand gestures, get it out of my system and start over. It was a system that worked for a while, but with age should come wisdom, and when that doesn't happen, the bulldog comes out of me.

As my kids get older, the things that they are into of course have changed. Any honest, like brutally honest mother, should admit that technology sometimes is a double edge sword. While you know it might be rotting your precious offspring's brain, isn't it quiet? Isn't it a nearly-spa-like-setting-quiet when kids are engaged on an electronic device? At times you just need some damned peace and quiet that board games and kids playing outside just cannot compare to. So, it builds-your dependence and theirs on this form of entertainment. But, like I said, as my kids get older, this form of entertainment has also become public enemy number one when it comes to punishments. If you are old enough to be on said devices, you are old enough to do what you are told...until you don't.

So, a few things happen, things are said and jobs are ignored, I let it slide. Meanwhile, the internal powder keg brewing a special concoction of dealing with adolescence and old lady hormones. And then it blows! The normal punishments just seem mundane, it's time to go all in in this poker game. Hell hath no fury like a kid that gets pulled off electronics here. I can only equate it to possibly getting put in solitary confinement as my kids portray it. Is it really that bad? No. Is it really more of a punishment for me? Yes. Is it really apparent that this punishment cuts them off at the knees? OH YES, and that is why I continue it.

It's like watching a sociological experiment, like I'm watching PBS in my house. The first day, they sort of walk around aimlessly, as if they don't know what to do with their hands. It's like watching someone come down off drugs, confused/angry/erratic. I give them a list of busy work to occupy their time if they choose and they just look at me, dumbfounded. The second day, still not knowing what to do with their hands, seems to bring on some emotion with it. I hear people complaining of "looking" at each other. People start infighting for really inconsequential situations. While I know this isn't killing them, I also pray they are actually learning a lesson. Cut to me, chuckling from the laundry room as I hear the noise of kids actually arguing about where they are putting their legs on the couch. It's as if all of their senses are now heightened, and it's hilarious. They make it to school, only twitching a little

The real problem wherein lies with the fact that half of my precious offspring are as tall as I am. There is nothing thing worse than losing viable credibility when you have to look up at someone while you are having an argument. Where are the articles on parenting to giants but still feeling like the adult? Oh yeah, I haven't written them yet. So, the saga continues. While I now work a different shift at San Quinten, my job title has been slightly altered but I am still within the same pay grade. Misbehaving won't get you out in 5 to 10 on good behavior, but it will have your electronics snatched for an unspoken amount of time...have a great weekend.

...coincidence met fate

In a million years, I never figured this is where life would take me.

While this notion is pretty much true for every reader, the concept of actually realizing it could either be gleaned in a joyous or sorrowful way. I talk about life a lot...life with kids, life as a single parent, life not being always kind and finding the silver linings in life. Sometimes, the words just spill right out of my brain and onto my laptop, the good, bad and ugly. Sometimes, and this is when I know things become really personal, it is more difficult to get it out into words. That is when I know I'm really feeling something.

You meet people every day of your life. Be it someone who comes into your work, someone in a waiting room, someone at the checkout line at the grocery store. While your interaction may not be that of a Hallmark movie, for a brief moment in time, you share a common space with a stranger. Sometimes there are words or sometimes there are just glances. I have a special aura that strangers must see, sometimes I walk away and wonder, "Why did I need to know that you are moving to Colorado? Why do I feel bad that you cannot eat dairy? Why am I constantly being talked to by Jehovah's Witnesses, am I wearing a sign?" But I digress, sometimes without even knowing it you meet someone for a distinct purpose, it isn't coincidence, it is fate nudging you and you don't even know it.

All of us have those special people in their lives...the ones who understand your jokes, can make you see the best in yourself and have seen you at your worst and love you despite the afore mentioned. These people you meet, who for whatever reason that meeting, that chance encounter, is etched on your brain forever. Their possible fleeting presence in your life happened. Maybe they were inspirational?  Maybe they were thought provoking? Maybe they were annoying? Maybe just seeing them made you lose your breath for a minute and left an overly verbal person speechless? You can go back, years later and remember that moment, place or day when coincidence met fate and changed your life forever. The most important lesson from these people is recognizing you have them, cherishing them and never letting them go...and I'm lucky enough to get to do that.

My day to day has changed since I began writing, and it has completely changed since I started writing this blog. I used it as therapy, comic relief and a chance to document all of the crazy things that not only go on in my head, but even the crazier things that go on in this "THUNDERDOME HOUSE." Sometimes writing it down took it off my heart/head and helped me move on to the next quarter-life-crisis of parenting. The melt-downs over bathing. The debates on independence when someone can't even be mindful of brushing their teeth (I'm not sure when the last time a few of mine have actually brushed). The push and pull of adolescence and playing good cop/bad cop. The notion that while I might not die alone, as I know at least one of my kids will never move out-they've got it too good, the real fear of never finding an adult to complete, compliment, inspire, love and feel appreciated again. At least one of these is the underlying fear in all of us in some way, shape or form. I am lucky, as I mentioned, because I have found some of these things in friends some of which I know fate was the only way we would have ever met, so thank you. I only hope I can emulate what to you what you do for me.

But, unknowingly, something important happened three years ago. I met this person, and all of the things you hope to feel, I felt. All of the chance encounters as they were, made me feel giddy, grin and wanting to know more about this person...but it was just chance, right? Turns out, three years later, I found out that person felt the exact same things about me. Never knowing when we would bump into each other, a friendship was there but nothing really else until one night when we got to talking. All of the sudden, I realized this concatenation, these chance meetings were "our" moment when fate met coincidence.

As time progressed, we discovered that we were more alike than anyone else we knew. We liked the same things, felt the same way about topics, and didn't want to kill each other over discussions of religion, politics, traveling, music, cooking and parenting. This person, while I've known him for years, I didn't know how much we had to share with each other. I suddenly felt like, "In a million years, I would never have thought that life would take me here...and I'm so grateful that it did." Three weeks ago today, this man who still makes me giddy, grin and most importantly love, proposed at our favorite restaurant and in our favorite seat. His eyes twinkled, and while they do quite regularly, I will never forget how they did that night. I couldn't wait to say yes to him, and yes to what most definitely is the grandest example of what happens when coincidence met fate... thank you HJR, 107 days and I cannot wait!

Freedom Choreography

Strange. My overly verbal mind can only come up with ONE WORD...really? It is strange to be alone, for real, for the first time in 5 years. I've dreamed of this day. I've pensively cherished this day. I've mentally choreographed dance moves to this day, and all I can come up with is one word, strange. This day, this time has always seemed sort of elusive to me, like anticipating a solar eclipse-CRAP wait, that's happening next!

Anyway, this morning has been something along the lines of surreal- The laundry is caught up, the dishes are in the dishwasher, he's worked HARD all summer long! I say "he" like a boat is supposed to be called "she" because that dishwasher has worked as hard as a spouse on Mother's Day for the last 3+ months. HE is grateful that the kids are back in school, and occupying "his" time probably chatting up the refrigerator, as "she" has been opened no less than 164 times a day over the summer. Don't even try to talk to the washer and dryer, the happy couple has already left for their well-deserved spa day, as most of my kids changed their wardrobe like they were on tour with Beyoncé over the summer, 50 cities-83 shows-NO JOKE...I never knew they had this many clothes and changed their underwear so little.

Flushed with independence this morning, I'm still stunted. I filled out the MOUND of back-to-school paperwork, signed my name enough times that it is nearly illegible and still know I have one more kid's paperwork to muddle through. I found myself wondering, what now? Do I write? drink? take a nap? For the first time in what seems like forever, the world is my oyster and I don't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt. Ululating like a wild dog seems a little extreme, but I imagine today would be the only day where I could completely get away with it. But I am charting peculiar waters, and I have found myself shaking my head in utter disbelief, as the silence is so thrilling and newfangled all at the same time. My mental to-do list resembles something like a scroll, there are projects, closets to clean, things that you can only throw out when your kids aren't there to lament and secret unoccupied mom WOMAN time that will be dooly accomplished. But today...I'm starting slow. I go at everything with a game plan, a mental goal more than anything. I know how this afternoon will be with the kids get out early. I've made promises for popcorn, and hopefully if it isn't raining a play-date with the neighbors.

While I come correct- but I didn't expect to see that look in my youngest eyes this morning. The others took off and went into school or lined up with their friends. I sort of stopped him from doing this because I "thought" he would want me to walk him in...Turns out? Yeah, I think that was mainly for me. Thus, I walked him in, dropped off his lunch box, gave him a quick hug (no pictures-that's how secretly wrought I was at the time) and he walked off to the gymnasium.  I looked back one last time, horrible move on my part, took one last look at his face as he walked behind me, and I had hoped it wasn't as if I was looking into a mirror.

Slightly frightened, slightly exhilarated, slightly constipated, he turned left and I turned right and walked out the door. It was a moment that I probably will never forget, that moment when you know "that phase" is over. He's moved onward, he's ready, he's eager and he needs to learn from someone else, grateful that it is someone (not a sibling) who isn't bent on teaching him fart jokes like he has learned all summer, but I digress. Even three hours later, it still sort of takes my breath away. We've crossed a threshold, a milestone and a turning point onto the next phase of Atticus J Hunt's life. . .and really mine as well. Here is to all the parents doing this either for the first time or/and the last time, let me know if you need any "freedom choreography," it's fairly simple step work and no doubt will be perfected in years to come. Happy first day of school and first day to the rest of your life!

...forever and always...

The time is near...Can you feel it? It is that time of year where you feel the rush of new beginnings, independence, fresh concepts and crisp new school supplies. This year there is a more acute feeling of wonder with the last of my children starting the journey of school. Upon the notion of being alone in my house for an entire eight hours, anoesis descends with illusions of grandeur, i.e. cleaning, loafing, lunches with adults and basically anything I damn well want to do between the hours of 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. As my youngest ergate heads out with a great confidence, I have two phrases that keep echoing in my mind. These phrases are not only the reason why I write this, but moreover, my profound wish that my kids will always understand them.

"No one is born into this world with a timeline, they are born into this world with a purpose." This is a tough concept to really understand, but so many people, my children included, are forced to understand at some point. Life happens, some things are grand and others knock you out at the knees. Questioning why either happens is futile, and distracts one from dealing and moving on. Perhaps derived out of sorrow, it is also an epic silver lining. Live life not based on how many years you have to understand/do/play/love/hate/fail/master something. Live life as a paladin of purpose, understanding that no matter how long it takes or time you are given, you are here for an unmistakable reason. I hope my kids understand that they are the purpose for my being here, and I am grateful for every freckle on their face, every hair on their head, and every Lego that I unintentionally step on/pick up/mutter obscenities at. My greatest honor will be watching them find their purpose.

As my tiniest worker ant heads off to school in two weeks, I'm left sort of gobsmacked. Where has the time gone? He was just a drooling, nearly crawling, squawking six months old when we moved to Canton. He was who I spoke to every morning when I desperately needed it at 4 a.m. feedings in a semi light room. As the youngest, I think I have noticed his development more than the others because he has been my longest unpaid sidekick. This summer he has gone from a baby to a boy, holding his own with his brothers and displaying some want-to-be-bad-ass mannerisms that hopefully will not get him kicked out of school. My solace, at the end of the day, we say our prayers and he makes sure to tell me he loves me and to have good dreams. He's no longer a baby, but he unknowingly was and is my itty-bitty reminder of strength when you need it the most.

Nora is on the cusp of turning eight years old, mentally she's about 47. She is eager to start school, armed with a new bike bearing "pegs" so she can be a Canton's adaptation of a kiddie-uber. She keeps discussing how great it will be to give kids rides to school- I'm seeing many trips to the doctor's office in our future. Abe is excited, like literally was audibly heard saying a week ago, "I can't wait for school to start!" At first I thought he was being sarcastic, but then he went on to explain is declaration, he's ready for sixth grade so it seems, but are they ready for him? Oscar should be the most excited to go back to school as he has had the most changes over the summer- he's taller, his voice is deeper, he no longer has braces and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he starts growing a beard in the next two weeks. So much has changed, but thankfully he still has his sense of humor, which at times borderline on just fart jokes, but that's to be expected.

"Forever and always." A phrase used to express any number of things- life, love and happiness. This expression has taken on new meaning lately. The ability to feel and show others this catchphrase is something to be proud of. There was a time when forever was just the hours of 6 a.m. to 8 p.m., and always was something with a negative connotation...Now this collection of words means more than all of the best words chosen in the English language- I use a thesaurus a lot. Forever and always is how one can love and live. It is a term that while shouldn't be said lightly, gives security and serenity without fear of jettison into the harsh, scary waters of the world.

I'm grateful for these words as they mean more to me now than they ever have before, and I will never apologize for their overuse, but champion the power they hold. Much like the beginning of a new school year, we all open a chapter into a new life, new lessons, new experiences and of course new adventures. While I am eager to be able to pee alone for any 7+ hours of the day I choose, I am eager to see where this new school year takes us, what purpose we hopefully find for ourselves and understanding that "forever and always" is the greatest gift you can not only give but also receive.

...my first pancake

13. Some find this number unlucky. To me it has always been the number I bet on, the lotto ticket I buy or the number I hope to find on the back of my fortune cookie fortune...solidifying what some Chinese person I've never met, got it right. This week, it means a little more as it marks a moment in time that seriously seems like yesterday, and not 13 years ago.

Funny how people say, time flies. In the moment you either get it or think they are pacifying themselves for being old. When you finally notice that time has flown, you feel, old. It seems like yesterday I was getting a room ready for a baby I had not yet met. I was nervous, scared, uncomfortable and very pregnant. I sat in this baby's room and wondered, when did I become a grown-up? Would I know what to do? Would I get it right? Would I understand that life would never be the same? Various answers to these questions prevail and some I'm still asking myself. But 13 years ago, I entered the world of being a mother for the first time, and life was blessed with my Oscar.

Unlike anything I could have ever expected that is exactly what Oscar is. Creative, thoughtful, intelligent, funny, introspective, kind, unique and blonde. He came into the world, larger than life and since has carried that persona with him to this day. As a small one, he was always amazing me with his abilities that seemed to come from nowhere. He, perhaps prophetically, didn't start talking until he was a toddler. As a first time mom, you never want to compare your precious offspring in "first pancake" terms. The theory that the first pancake you make is just an experiment, clearly not comparable to a human, but you get it. You will mold this child into a perfect human being, because that is your job. Funny what you focus on when a child is so small. It all was made clear when we were walking down steps in our house one day, and Oscar uttered his first words. "That stupid-ass-dog..." properly commenting on our neighbor's incessantly barking dog. I was proud, shocked, excited and horrified all at the same moment. I had some things to learn, some audible words to clearly censor and perhaps a job application for my "first pancake" at the truck stop.

But this, as I know, is only the beginning. I write a lot about being a mother of a teenage boy, mainly out of ignorance, but it is just that. I think if I knew exactly what to do it would probably make me a crappy parent. We are just starting this official world of TEEN-DOM and while at times it feels like I should have been paying attention in psychology classes in college, I know that my "first pancake" and I are going to survive it, possibly not unscathed but never-the-less. I am proud to see him grow into his own, from that tiny little person who liked to hunt dinosaurs and Bigfoot in our back yard, to an albeit typical, weird hair growth, odd smelling, loveable, hilarious and cheeky guy. In a lot of ways he's like Yoda, as he really thinks about things before getting into a serious discussion, when he has something to say there is some pretty serious thought behind it. Other times he's like someone who has Tourette's syndrome, the latter probably because he is a teen. He likes to come into a room and give a look, no words, and just sits next to me. I make him wait a good two to three minutes before I break the silence and just ask what he wants. It shocks him and he always says, "Why do you say that? ...So, can I ...."

So as I set out on this journey, charting the smelly, hormonal, fart joke, patchy hair growth waters of living with a teenage boy, I will do so with courage, perseverance and a stocked liquor cabinet. To my "first pancake", happiest of 13th birthdays to you, may you someday understand that while we are in this together, I pretty much had no idea what I was doing the whole time.

 

...bb-guns and spitting contests...

Happiness. Pure, unadulterated, unending, unbelievable happiness...and no, I'm not making this up. It is the feeling, I was always told, when someone was once again content, adjusted, excited and thrilled about not only about their life but their future. I never thought this day would actually come, I never thought I would find something so elusive, but here I am and I cannot hide the smile from my face at any moment of the day.

Nora's happiness? Spending the month of June with my parents. The laundry list of things she was going to get to do was something akin to a bucket list, and I can't say that I blame her. The fun loving, free spirited, spitfire who bares my likeness is spreading her joy two states away. At first, it was sort of nice having only three in toe. At first it was sort of nice that the "collective we" left behind here in Missouri could sit in a small booth or ride in a regular car...that's just the game of numbers. But, here I sit, the only girl in my house, and I long for another "sista" to talk to or even to appreciate the fact that she doesn't pee all over the toilet seat. Here I am, longing for the one kid that, while easily entertained, does require a laundry list of "projects" to do for the coming day by 8 a.m. I miss her, despite keeping busy and grateful that she gets a chance to spend time with her grandparents, I worry.

I worry that she'll come home and feel let down. I worry the one on one attention that she is getting, while very well deserved, won't be matched when she comes home. She is quick to tell it like it is, I've raised her right, but I fear that when she gets home. I fear I won't be enough after her month long extravaganza. While I was excited that she was getting the chance to do something special, I never thought about what would happen when she came back---frankly, I thought she would get homesick, never figuring it would be me. But, in this crazy house of BOYS, Nora has earned the right to be made to feel special, and who can do that better than grandparents? Less than 7 days to go, and there will be so much happiness to see her, it might be sickening.

Happiness for the three boys left behind? NO GIRLS...clearly I am genderless to my male offspring. However, boys, just boys, are really pretty easy to deal with. Lower expectations, lower maintenance, lower threshold for fart jokes...feed them, turn on a PS4, take them to a pool, and that is all they need. I have asked them several times if they miss Nora, last night's explanation was priceless- Oscar: "Well, you know, we deal with her on a daily basis, so we don't really miss that." Okay? He sounds like someone who works in a dog pound. Nora's partner in crime, Atticus, misses her at certain times of day. They have their own system of things they do, most of which make little to no sense to me, but hey, it works for them. After having just boys in this house, it is abundantly clear to me why Nora is not what you would call a "girlie-girl", why would she be? She'd rather shoot a bb-gun or have a spitting contest. I imagine, for her, it is her survival and hopefully comfort mode in this house. Who knows? After a month out of this fraternity house, she might be a new woman. But I am excited to have my solidarity sister back again soon.

The happiness that where I currently reside? I think it is a mixture of a dozen things. I think it is growth. I think it is time. I think it is the long desired ability for my mind, heart and soul to open up again. I think it is seeing how where I have been has guided me, at times not so swiftly, to where I am. I think it is not over thinking every detail, but opening myself up to a million details, some of which I never thought I would get to have. Looking back, I can't put into words how much I missed it. Sure, I've written about it in 135 blogs, shared my good, my bad and my very ugly at times. But the happiness where I currently reside, makes me smile for more than 3 seconds...because I know I'm better for it, I deserve it and I'll be a better woman/mother/sister/friend because of it. Summer has officially started, the directive I give to you? Find your happiness, you're worth it.

...friends, sunshine and fences...

Fences. Some people have emotional, some have psychological and others have independence fences that they yearn to break free from. While these fences are built for protection and security, sometimes they are built for avoidance as it is easier to corral a matter than actually dealing with it head on. Recently, my very eloquent best friend put this whole notion into perfect perspective, begging me to really ponder the idea of merely, testing the fence.

Meanwhile, at the corner of body odor and strange hair growth, I am on the cusp of having a teenager in my midst. It is a young man's yearning for independence while not completely wanting to do everything that is associated with it. The sage advice given to me from multiple people have been filed in my brain, like cheat codes for life. I watch as this once tiny person grow taller than me, voice drops, tastes change and mind grows even further into adulthood. I will never claim to have all the answers or even pretend to know what I am doing at any given moment, but I feel like I'm driving blind into a storm. It is slightly terrifying. My hopeful mantra is that every time I am about to lose my shit, every time I'm wondering what I will ever do correctly by him, every time I'm contemplating the no doubt Karma that I must endure...I need to remind myself that his testing fences, while infuriating, is the healthy and normal.

My fences used to be multiple. Much like the kind you see in pictures of gulags, all barbed wire and menacing. I used them for all of afore mention reasons, but probably most definitely to try to restore some sense of sanity, where there was little found. They were protection, security and avoidance of dealing with life. But as time moved on, the fences came down, and with each one a subtle sense of accomplishment, like a secret badge that only I could see. With every fence I learned something not only about myself but the world around me, and marveling at the view I had closed myself off from. Not seeing what could happen, and worrying about what might happen, is unhealthy and unproductive. With the fences down, I now know more than ever that what I feared on the other side was actually nothing to be scared of. It has given me the chance to know what life could be like and I'm grateful every day.

Fencing or free range? Not on your life, with four kids, free time is where you find it. Sometimes you have to rise before the sun to steal a scant 45 minutes, other times it is the five minutes you allow yourself in the bathroom when your kids thankfully do not know where you are. Even walking through Aldi, I try to time it so that I can have my kids eat lunch in the car while I blissfully, and albeit rapidly, make my way through the isles ALONE. The importance of "kid free time" is something akin to a get out of jail free card while playing monopoly. You know it is in your back pocket, and while you sometimes have to move heaven and earth to make it happen, YOU DESERVE IT. Sadly, I never really understood the importance of this notion until I became a single mom. All of those times that I could have gotten away, and I never used the opportunity, it was a psychological fence I should have crossed, but never made it happen. Oh hindsight, why are you so perfect?

The exhilaration of travel is like jumping a fence while not knowing what is on the other side. It is something that some people have never been lucky enough to experience, while others do it so often it becomes common place. I have been lucky to be able to experience this from a young age. There are some things while on a plane I always notice. The thrust of the engines. The jerk back you feel in your seat when the plane puts up its nose and climbs into the air. The clouds as you rise through them, the beauty of which is never lost on me- the textures/colors/light. It is a sight that probably most take for granted. To me it is a moment when this control freak relinquishes this annoying power and looks out the plane window in awe of the world. But as time has moved on, my experiences dwindled as life did not really allow it. The night before I left I was taking advice from my 18 year old niece as she is a world traveler (a girl after my own heart). The adventure is sometimes in getting where you are going, but you don't want to get there without your underwear or hair gel, you know?

But, every three or so years my mental gulag opens, and my best friend woos my sense of adventure into overdrive. Much like thinking, "Everest? Yeah, piece of CAKE!?" we plan a getaway. This year there were no broken bones the night before thankfully, and my family once again stepped in so that I could make the whole thing possible. Like a NASA space launch, all calculations came together and all of my precious offspring were somewhere so that I could go on a "kid free" vacation with my oldest friend. While connecting all of the dots were painstaking, everything fell into place. My gratefulness to my family cannot be properly put into words, but please know it is very real.

Less like a fence, and more like a small natural stone wall built upon experiences and memories are what I got the chance to have while on vacation with my best friend. The opportunity to experience serious talks, sunshine and meeting strangers. The chance of making memories, laughing, finding new places that you love and talking about loves we are blessed to have in our lives. These kind of times are necessary, needed, priceless and heady. Every three years I've been given the gift to remember where I've been, where I am and where I want to go. This best friend and I have seen each other through some of our worst times, we tell it like it is and champion each other often. Many times on our vacation as we were chatting with strangers, it's our hidden gift, they would ask how we knew each other. We'd tell the story of how we've never lived in the same state let alone the same town. The same thing was mentioned multiple times to us, the concept of friend-soul-mates, our reason for meeting so many years ago was in no way chance.

I actually missed my precious offspring while jumping a fence for excursion, but I needed the therapy of being just myself and not a mom for a few days. I needed the recharge, not only being out of my every day but also being with a person who knows me better than most and picking up where we always leave off. Fences down, fences tested and never a fence on adventure and friendship! Thank you to my family, April and Key West!