...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.

...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!

...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.

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!

...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!

...I come with a posse

Good on paper...have you ever heard this phrase? It is something that I am embarrassed to admit that I have roaming around my head from time to time. Frankly, I am fully aware that if the same concept were used on me, I might not fare well. The notion is so very mind boggling. How can a person be so engaging, witty, stimulating, attractive and seemingly so right in every way, only to realize that they are just "good on paper"?

I was lucky. I met a guy at a frat party and knew a week later that he was the guy I was going to marry. With every date or time spent together, every charming characteristic he displayed, my feelings were solidified that this was the man for me. It wasn't immediate, but six years to the day we met, we got married. Like I said, I was lucky. I was lucky to have loved someone and be able to create a lasting tribute to what we had together, our kids. I found something really wonderful, once. I knew in my heart that I would feel like wanting to find it again, my head and my heart had to meet up.

What makes me an expert? Hmmm, technically I am not, but I have experience. I have dated, married and become widowed only to start the process all over again. That whole phrase, it's like riding a bike? Yeah, well possibly if you were riding a bike, on fire, balancing a vase on your nose, clipping coupons, braiding your daughter's hair and trying to wear heels all at the same time. So many things you looked for in the opposite sex when you were 20-something, doesn't always hold the same luster when you are 40-something. Finding any person you want to spend more than 2 hours with is like discovering the chupacabra. We all have baggage, but trying to navigate or evaluate how many people's baggage you are willing to sort through is a moral dilemma, I'm already traveling as a party of 5... Baggage and underwear for days.

Then there's the double standards. A man loses his wife, he's nearly given away to the next eligible bachelorette. How could he live without a wife? How could he survive? Who would do the laundry? There is a definition in Webster's Dictionary for a woman who loses her husband, she is called a widow. A widower is a man who loses his wife, but they leave out the extent of it. That's because they are to be married off and live out their lives happy, satisfied and not alone. This point is not exaggerated but amplified when a man loses his wife and has children. I quietly thought this to myself in the beginning, figuring I would have to charge the breach of single motherhood and not complain. It took my best friend's southern mother to point out what a colossal load of bullshit that double standard is...and we haven't even gotten to the part of trying to date again.

Now most of the time dating involves a mutual attraction, time spent together and maybe even some steamy things that I don't want to get into, because this isn't a how-to-book. Being a single mother...how does that even get started? I figured I needed to get out of my house before I went postal either on my kids or another random stranger. Where do you go? The gym? Yeah, at the time when I was starting this adventure, that was akin to staying at home with my kids. The grocery store? That's like trying to pick up a guy in church to me, sacred places, sacred places. I wanted to go somewhere I didn't have someone feel bad for my situation. I wanted to start over, like a baptism on my soul, reputation and psyche.

So, I did what any tired adult who just wants to be in a room with other adults does, I went to a bar. Seemed easy. I sat at the bar, bought a drink and just enjoyed not having to do anything pertaining to parenting, I was clocked in to adulting. Being the social person that I am, it wasn't long before I started a conversation with someone. I felt splashy...and began to feel slightly over confident...or was that the cocktail kicking in? Anyway, I felt like I moderately had my shit together. I could do this alone. I play well with others. It wasn't until the fella next to me at the bar thought he would start asking questions when things took a strange turn.

Why can't some people just talk to strangers? I do it all the time. I'm good at it! I have often wondered if I could get paid to just sit in a waiting room to chat with people, if for no other reason than to put their minds at ease or distract them from why they were waiting. Is this even a thing? I am researching this...I could really make some money doing this. Just talk for talking sake, not get all third degree, harsh lamp overhead Law and Order questioning/talking. I suppose imbibing lowers the threshold for common courtesy...its cool man.

"So, what's your story?" That was the epic line I was asked while sitting at the bar.  I thought to myself, well...here's your chance to 'adult'. I thought for a second about making something ridiculous up. Then I figured the truth is actually more ridiculous than a lie. I said, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you..." never really looking at him while I said it, you know for dramatic effect. He persisted. Realizing if I wanted to sit at the bar, I was going to have to shut him up. I turned to him and said, "I'm a 37 year old widow with four kids..." And I gave him a wink. He bought my drink.

But that is only the tip of the iceberg. Turns out as a widow, dating? Yeah, not really socially acceptable when you are ready. Being a widow, you are slightly under a microscope. The people that peer inside of it honestly love you, but the crowd gathers and it makes something quite innocent and simple become fodder for discussion and opinion? Not inviting. Yeah, I'm starting over, I need the pressures of other people's opinion. It was as if I was 16 years old again, so very strange. I felt as if I had to sit before a tribunal to hear the ruling if I were allowed to date...News flash, the jig is up, I already have 4 kids...I'm an adult...I think I know I'm ready. This was from family, friends and people that in reality didn't actually care what I thought. But all of the above were quick to either share, or silently share behind my back. I get it, I got it, everyone has their own process, and I know they were doing it out of love for me, but it was a tough patch to go through. Thankfully, I'm through it. The best advice, although everyone thinks theirs is the best when you would preferably have them shut up, the BEST advice came from other widows. Nine times out of ten, they were easily 40 years older than me, but they got it. They were quick to reassure me that while they had never re-entered the dating world, I was younger, it would be crazy not to. To the Irmas, Alices, Freddys and Peggys out there, thank you for understanding and letting me know that I was okay. I hope to one day emulate you.

Then there is the terror of having kids and dating. Now, truth be told, I would like to be able to convince my children that I am a nun who goes out every other week to bingo...no desire to be social with someone of the opposite sex, no need to have a man in my life what so ever. But, that would be a lie. I feel like I owe it to my kids to be honest, most of the time, and let them see that it is okay to be social with all types of people. Healthy. Natural. My daughter at the age of 4 would be trolling, unknowingly, in the grocery store for men for me. I don't think it is something that they are not ready for. The hold back has been myself. I have met and dated some really amazing men, but I would only allow the relationships to go so far. Dating when you are just single is a completely different ball game, you never have to take into consideration anything but yourself. You never have to wonder, "Wow, good looking, funny and I wonder how he would handle conflict resolution with my four children?" My inner voice always seems to say RUN after a time period. I apologize to those who have felt this first hand. Thankfully, I only have ONE inner voice, and while she is overly verbal, she is indeed slightly crazy...but I'm ready to stop running.

People shouldn't be pigeon-holed into one type...there are so many characteristics that make up people. These are not your typical description of humans. I say humans, because in reality they could be used on a male or female. The fact of the matter is, hindsight would never exist if you could somehow formulate the perfect mate. These are just a few of the types of people I have been lucky enough to encounter...once again, I'm not an expert, I just know what I know.

-The person who picks you up for a blind date with 5 inch platform shoes in the center console of their car...and admits that they are theirs.

-The work-aholic who has never settled down, yearns to relax when they have paid everything they have/want off, slightly shy of commitment not just because it might get in the way of their goals, but also because they know they can't completely give of themselves to someone else.

-The person that you feel really understands you on a political level, only to find out that they are regurgitating everything they hear as their own, believing everything they hear, but only for soundbite's sake.

-The person who is afraid of change and champions mediocrity.

-The person that you feel completes your sense of humor, only to find out that THEY have to tell the jokes and most of what they tell isn't their own.

-The person who intellectually you find compelling because they have a side to them that more than just the surface. They are contemplative and quick witted, only to find out that they love to hear the sound of their own voice and laugh at their own puns and that's just gets old after a while.

-The person who does it all, or wants to do it all and doesn't ask what you really need in the process. Leaving you feel ungrateful for no reason.

-The person that started with a crush, even the fact that they are talking to you seems like you are taking the forbidden fruit. You worry that if something is too good to be true, and pray it isn't.

-The edgy person, interesting and clever, pulls you into what they are talking about, like you are driving by an accident on the highway and can't turn away. But they only tell you tidbits of a story, leaving you wondering if the part they left out had anything to do with spending the night in prison.

-The person who is a free spirit and a brilliant mind, but is immediately terrified when anything resembles a routine.

No one is perfect, most certainly NOT myself. I come to the table with an interesting array of hang-ups, routine and priorities that, let's face it, might be too much for anyone. But, the moment when I find that special someone, you can bet that despite all that I have listed above, I will be the best partner one could have. Because I love fiercely, freely and profoundly and I'm finished running...and luckily for them, I come with a posse.

..it's going to be a good day...

That moment when you catch yourself smiling, for no real reason. When everything around you suddenly takes on a new meaning, looking at something rather simple and getting a warm feeling. You know the feeling, you've felt it before, but it has been so long it is like staring at a strangers face and instantly knowing them. You want to suppress such feelings because in the past they have been fleeting, artificial or stilted.

Like completing 1000 piece puzzle, you know it is more about the feeling of accomplishment and challenge than the picture that is revealed at the end. The glory is in the process. With the pop of warm sun kissed spring days, everything is in bloom. The dark winter days have faded away disclosing the beauty that was forgotten. The tree's blossoms are starting to show their vibrant color, and it all seems to make sense...like an old forgotten friend.

This time of year used to be my third favorite...this year it is taking top billing. There is no better feeling than looking out the window and seeing the beauty that the season brings. The blooms that decide to open a little more with every minute of the day, cleanse the soul and put into perspective things that you never knew they could. And then you get a phone call that darkens your view with terror, grief and the notion of what you might not have said.

So, there I was, packing suitcases. Never mind that it was just a few days before Easter. Never mind that I was so completely turned around I could hardly think straight. Never mind that I was packing a variety of clothes from "waiting room comfortable" to "funeral". I stood there looking at what was in the suitcase and I couldn't get my head around what might happen. I couldn't understand the notion of someone you love possibly dying, even though I had been in this exact space in the not so distant past. No matter the kind of love you have for someone, when you are smacked in the face of the notion of mortality, the slightest interaction starts to take on an elevated emotion. Did I remember my last conversation with my mom? Did I reaffirm the authenticity of how much I loved her? Could I contemplate the concept of losing her? The answers were: yes, yes and NO. So, scared and afraid, possibly naïve, I decided that this wasn't the end. She would die someday, we all will, but that day wasn't going to be today. She is a tough broad and she is wise beyond her years, this was not the end of her story, not even by a long shot.

Driving seven hours alone gives a lot of time for the mind to wander, and seeing that it is a rarity it was slightly exhilarating. I could actually think, blare the music of my choice, stop only to pee and not have to quell any disputes besides the ones that were scurrying around in my head. I thought about the things I wanted to say to her. I thought about the stories I wanted to always remember about her. I thought about the last conversation that we had, and how she said a few things that were poignant and prophetic. I thought about how lucky I have been to have the parents that I have, and what good role models they have been on parenting. I worried about my dad, knowing that he not only hates hospitals, but has never had to see my mom in such a vulnerable state, ever. I wondered how 50+ years of marriage can bring two souls’ together, fusing two lives in such a way that without one to inhale can the other ever exhale? My father was very scared, but tried desperately to disguise it...his heart was missing a piece and he had no way to fix it.

Fear and sorrow can not only open one's eyes, but also open one's heart to the things that they might have been too stubborn or foolish to admit. It can bring people together just out of the sake of loving someone collectively. It can alter the window that your mind's eye has been peering out of, and then suddenly things all make sense. Thankfully, my mother is a fighter, and she is currently recovering from a very serious heart surgery. She has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but she is one of the strongest women that I know, and I only hope to appear to emulate her, as that is possibly the closest I could get. I am grateful daily for the things that she has taught me and the advice that she has given me, not only as a mother but also as a woman.

My takeaway from all of the above is to remember to be grateful not only for what I have, but for the possibility of having more than my heart could desire because at the end of the day, life is too short. You get this brief blip of time in the world, what you do with it is up to you, and wasting it shouldn't be a viable option. Live life to its fullest, give yourself permission to be crazy happy and wake up every day knowing it's going to be a good day...

...hello...

Hello. I know it's been a while since I've written you, not for the lack of trying. I've just been trying to figure things out. I noticed this morning that I saw a picture of you, and I didn't get emotional. It wasn't some grandiose picture, you were cooking, but I felt a strange feeling at the lack of feeling, you know. There was a time when your picture hung everywhere in this house. Not sure if I just didn't want to change things, or make sure that you were honored. It was hard. Seeing you was hard. It sort of ripped out stitches of a wound you knew you had to let heal, but couldn't stand the itch. The pictures came down, and instead of being everywhere, I thought it best for everyone to put up the ones they wanted in a special place, for just themselves. I couldn't bring you back, but I didn't want to have to be reminded of that fact either.

It is interesting the pictures the kids picked of you. Some are stoic, others are silly ones that you would probably delete off your phone if you needed to free up some space. But for whatever reason they picked the pictures, it is all their own. Nora's collection is most pronounced. There you are on her bulletin board, making silly faces or snuggling the tiniest version of her, and I chuckle when I see them. But they are all she has...a piece of time captured with a short story to go along with it. We talk about them from time to time, and you would love the twinkle she gets in her eye while doing it.

It isn't for the lack of wanting to talk to you. To glean some sort of insight on our offspring that are very uniquely us in so many different ways. I wonder, and at times yearn for, what your thoughts are on so many matters, our kids, politics and frankly life. I'm not going to stroke your ego and assume you have all matters of life figured out on the other side, but who the hell knows, you might. I see you a lot in Abe lately, he has the same dead-pan sense of humor, and I can't imagine how much you would laugh at his delivery of some of the things he says.

I hear you a lot when Oscar is talking. I crack up at the fact that when his voice cracks, he'll actually correct himself and say whatever he said all over again, as if to reaffirm that it was just a glitch in the matrix. Today, he was all dressed up and he physically looked like you, not a moment after I thought that Nora commented how adult he looked. I pray that he and I will live to see the end of the puberty tunnel, and desperately wish you were here to talk him through that.

Every time I meet someone new or someone hears Atticus' name, there is always the same comment, "What an interesting name..." I think of you instantly, trying and lobbying for his name that at the time sounded so odd. You would bring up the Romans, Harper Lee and say it with our last name and comment at how cool it sounded. He still looks just like you, but every once and a while a little of me shines through. He can't recall any story about you other than the ones he's been told. He is as tough as nails and his favorite thing to do? Dance every Saturday night to the Lawrence Welk show. His moves? They are all you.

I was told the other day, something you said about me while on a family vacation. I was correcting our kids for something that probably amounted to nothing, and as I flew out the back door, you turned to my mom and said, "She's a bit of a bulldog, but she's my bulldog." I hope one day someone else understands me like you did. More importantly, I hope that I can let someone in to know me the way you did. I have a problem of suddenly shutting people out for fear that they'll find out how crazy I actually am. Maybe I should have gotten some therapy after you passed, for that matter all of us. I guess I just thought I could make up the difference, be enough for everyone. When I fall short of my own goals it is one thing, when I fall short where our kids are concerned...well, it is painful. I wish that you would just show up and tell me where to turn next. Funny, I wouldn't have so easily let you boss me around when you were here.

I also saw a picture of me this morning, and I honestly didn't recognize myself. I wondered if the person in the picture would be anyone you would recognize. So much has changed, and keeps changing that I wonder if this is how it is supposed to go. I thought of the old line from that chick flick you couldn't stand, "Honey, time marches on, and eventually you realize it's marching across your face." Thank you, Truvy, from Steel Magnolias. What I saw was a mixture of time and an innocence that I didn't remember having. The anniversary of "writing to quiet the voices in my head" was just the other day. I remember feeling the need to write because you and I were going through different stages of grief after losing baby Thomas. But unknowingly, maybe I was setting myself up for other voices that would be babbling around my head today.

So, I'm not sure how to end this. "Take care and have a great day..." doesn't seem appropriate. I guess I just needed to take a minute and talk to you, hoping for a little guidance or a little wisdom. Maybe I've just hit my “middlescence,” ironically my word of the day. Please know that we are doing well, we've had no visits to the ER yet this year and I can hear you laughing every morning while I'm cleaning the litter box that our kids talked me into getting a damned cat. Until next time...

...choosing favorites...

A friend of mine who doesn't have kids, likes to routinely ask me, "So...which one is your favorite?" I always laugh at this question. Partly because I know the two of us live very different lives, partly because I know they have their favorite and partly because they cannot understand the gravity of that question. Different times of day we all have the best or even better versions of ourselves...Some people are morning people, others do their best work as night owls and some have just your run of the mill "Pissy Pant" days. I quantify this into my answer for this question, and much to their dismay, I always say, "All of them..."

But as time moves across my face, waistline and navigates my old lady hormones, I cannot help but feel conflicted. I always sort of shook my head in disbelief at those moms who "mourned" their children getting older. Why? Why wouldn't you want these precious offspring to become more independent, less poop-pant-filled and grown up? But as I get ready for the next birthday in my house, I find myself becoming one of those sad-sacks, who just upon looking at a picture of my youngest child in a highchair, for what seems a million years ago, I get almost misty. I'm not claiming a favorite child, but I am recognizing that our relationship is indeed special.

In two weeks my Atticus, the little fellow with such a powerful name, will be turning 5 years old. How is that possible? It seems like yesterday I was coming home with him from the hospital. I feel like he is the best version of the youngest child, because he doesn't take any crap from his siblings. He is a straight shooter, who only tells it like it is when he feels it is necessary. He has developed this sense of humor that will carry him through life in a way that I know will be positive. But no matter what the calendar says, my mind races back to him at nine months old.

I used to sort of begrudge doing evening feedings at times with my kids. I felt like I was missing out on all the action as I attempted to put to sleep a child with a bottle in a lightly dimmed room. I was always strict with a routine when my kids were this little, and my control freak ways lead me to believe that if I didn't put the child to bed, it wouldn't be done correctly. CHUMP. But, be that as it may, that routine probably saved more than my sanity when I became outnumbered by kids. And all these years later, little did I know at the time, it was a therapy for me that will be forever unmatched.

I remember sitting in a rocking chair with Atticus, probably more than I remember sitting with any of my other children. I would feed him a bottle and pretty much mentally cleanse whatever it was I was dealing with at the time, and there was plenty. I would look at him and wonder about life. I would look at him and wonder why he was dealt the hand that he had been. I would hold him just as he was drifting off and think, how will he ever know normal? He was my alarm clock in the morning (still is) and my night cap at night. He was so little, but he helped me in ways I will never be able to fully explain. I believe he was given to me for this specific reason, well before I knew how my life would have ever been. He is more than just my child, he is my gift.

I love all of my children exactly the same, they are all my favorite...but in different ways. Oscar is my creative, contemplative, quiet soul, who has something to say, but usually thinks about it before he says it. When he laughs at my jokes, I take it as the highest compliment. Abe is my outgoing character, who loves to love with his whole heart and be in the mix of everything, dispensing comic relief when necessary all the while understanding when to deliver a punchline. Nora is my old soul, with a creative mind, unconventional and a heart filled with love. Atticus is this tiny power house, with a loving heart, quick with a compliment and the most unique youngest child. He might not have been my first child, but he will always be my essential example of why silver linings are more than a way of looking at life, as they were given to me in the quiet, of a dim lit room...

...hey jealousy...

Awe...its pissy pants Monday here with one of my precious offspring, I wish I had gotten the memo or for that matter even know how to quell it. But alas, I sent him off to school flushed with the hope that it would somehow go away by 3:30 this afternoon, I pre-apologize to his teachers at this moment. Some days you just get the "Pissy Pants" card, but some notice or even cause would be appreciated once in a while.

While I was sipping my coffee in the predawn hours of my kitchen, I came across a story on my social media feed. It was entitled "The 5 Things You Should Know About Dating a Single Mom." I'll admit, upon seeing it I was intrigued. I got about half a paragraph in and thought, what the hell? I don't need to read this, I live it. After thinking about it, all the things they could have put in that first paragraph, I wonder if I should go back and read the rest.

Fact of the matter is, IT IS TOUGH. If any one man knew the inner workings of my brain upon looking at me, he should RUN not walk away. My control issues...my hang-ups...my anxieties. If I knew 12 years ago that I would end up a single mother, I probably wouldn't have had the courage, moxie or the self-confidence to do it. Any mother who chooses to do this is either psychotic or has their shit together way more than I do. It is one thing to get married, start a family and the marriage does not work out. You came, you saw, you tried, it didn't work and you made the decision to end things. But what about someone who didn't get to make that decision.

Dating is difficult at any age. The beginning is thrilling, getting to know all of the inner workings of another person that you are excited to be around, talk to and think about. The simplicity of wanting to spend time with someone who makes you a better, nuttier, loving version of yourself. There are no other factors to consider besides being happy. Fast forward 20 years, you are older and now have more people to take into consideration on just about every choice or decision you make, even down to what kind of toothpaste you purchase. How does your brain and your heart work in the single-mother-dating-category?

Nora has been on the prowl for a grown man in this house since nearly the beginning. She would check out men at the grocery store, look them up and down and rate them even at 4 years old. To her it's more than just wanting to marry me off, to her it is trying to find a man to look to and up to for security. No person will ever replace her father, but I found it interesting that her coping mechanism was just as simple as putting together a puzzle...if one piece is missing, fill it with another.

Maybe my brain could more easily traverse around this beautiful vista of dating if I had chosen it. Maybe I could put aside my anxieties about what I may or may not be doing to all of those of whom I am responsible. Maybe I would be able to make a decision for myself outside of wanting what is best for all involved. Maybe I could just trust myself and let myself be happy before turning tail and running. I have seen dozens of people get married in the last 4 years, some of whom I have been lucky enough to introduce. While I am genuinely happy for them, to find that person that completes all the wonderful things that make them who they are, at times I am jealous. Of course, Ryan Gosling isn't going to show up at my door and start a life with me, he already has one.

"Hey Jealousy," one of my favorite old songs, and I know I'm showing my age, has a line in it that my psyche reminds me of from time to time. "The past is gone, but something might be found to take its place." Who cannot relate to this phrase? The fact is, I'm jealous of those people who can be in a place to let their heart take the wheel. I have been so very lucky to have the people in my life that I do. I am so very lucky to have these children, pissy pants and all, to raise and watch become such interesting aspects of their father and myself. I am so very lucky to know what it was and is like to be loved. Now, I just need to get around my own issues that are holding me back.

I write this not because I want sympathy, frankly that is the last thing that I want. I write this because I want to add to the article that I almost read this morning. Dating a single parent isn't about who might get in the way of it, even if it was chosen. Dating a single parent is understanding that there are a million needs that need to be met before the single parent ever gets around to their own. This single parent just wants to get around the subconscious stuff sometime soon, and be able to share all the crazy, fun, heartfelt moments with someone else. Even if Ryan Gosling isn't knocking on the door, I want to be ready for whoever is brave enough to.

...It's the most wonderful time of the year!

This time of year just seems to FLY by. The more things we do, the faster it all seems to be slipping from us-except for the fleas-they've been overstaying their welcome, but we are surviving (itch, itch, itch-just the thought). While it seems that the Christmas season is rapidly slipping through my hands, I keep reminding myself- breathe, it's only the 10th of December! When else can you hear a 7 year old who knows every word to "I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas?" I revel in it...even if she does only sing the same two odd verses over and over again.

I have been trying to be ever-mindful of the season this year...making sure to remember and remind everyone in my house that it's not the wrappings and the trappings that actually make the memories. As always there are the never ending interruptions while trying to hide presents, the praying that this year no one will break a window/mirror/piece of furniture like in years past and the anticipation that this season holds. All of the daily holiday rituals, i.e. Elf on the Shelf and Advent candy, I really never begrudge. It's all the little things that when added together make this season what it is to my family and I. No other time of the year is there anything really worth flying out of bed to be excited about, so I savor it.

This year the holiday season has been a little different. The memories that my kids fall back into retelling are ones that we have made together since we've moved here. It is gratifying in the moment to feel like I've done something not only worth remembering but also that there isn't any sadness attached to it. I wasn't sure that we would ever have that again a couple of years ago. While I am sure that indeed both of the Talls know the truth about Santa, for the sake of the rest of the brood, they are keeping the secret. They now both understand that the excitement in perpetuating the thrill of the holiday season is what it is all about. 

Unknowingly, my kids have already given me their Christmas gifts. I have been mentally noting and thoroughly enjoying watching who my kids are growing into being this year. Not sure if it is the ages they are or the growing insurgence of independence. I have noticed how much everyone is changing and I am gratified that I only want to ring their necks half of what I used to. They are all so very different, and have certain passions in their young lives, they also are each their own perfect piece of their parents. I am beyond grateful to see some piece of myself and Jason in each one of them...sometimes more than others. The other morning, while trying to quell the never-ending-debate of who gets the first doughnut on doughnut day, Nora declared, "Well, if you ask me? Oscar should get first choice, he hasn't been the one bitching all morning..."

Where did I go with this you ask? Well, for a brief moment, I wondered if Nora had developed some sort of mental telepathy, as I was possibly thinking the same thing word for word. I then cut her a harsh look of disapproval, and said that if she had decided to start using grown-up words, there was a very LONG LIST of grown-up things that she would have to start doing around here. It was a quiet doughnut day after that. 

I guess my point is simply this... As a parent you spend of most of your time feeling like you are in the trenches, but sometimes it is reassuring to know that possibly the offspring you are working so hard to rear into non-swearing-adults, are right there with you...understanding that a functioning family, while thriving on dysfunction at times, has to work together, support each other, and most importantly love each other to make it all work. That is what it is all about. The fact that people notice these things during this time of year? Because "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" isn't something you hear any other time of the year. My kids each have four things on their Christmas lists this year. I have one...for them to hopefully know how much I love them, not only for who they are, but for making this time of year so very special to me.

...a bat in the house sucks...

...constant: regularly recurrent; continual; persistent...

 

There are a few things in everyone's world that are a constant...something you can always rely on happening, cringe worthy or not. These are a few of mine...

 

...only being 'alone' when you are cleaning the house...the only time no one cares where you are...
 

...some child always walks in when you are putting on/taking off your bra
 

...brothers always pick on sisters
 

...raising boys, you are bound to have to tell someone to do something with their penis
 

...raising girls, you are bound to have to tell them that they are over accessorized
 

...drama will always follow wrestling...
 

...creativity is beautiful, but not on the kitchen floor...
 

...laundry is the never ending job of a mother...
 

...knowing 'nothing' as a mother is perpetual and persistent
 

...seeing pain in your kids eyes is never easy...
 

...a 3yr. old's ability to speak openly, and while you may be used to it, no one else ever is...
 

...explaining why you have the body parts you do to a child...
 

...a bat in the house sucks...
 

...brushing teeth isn't a chore, it's a necessary life skill...
 

...responsibility looks great until you have it...
 

...game night is always looked forward to...
 

...no one ever turns down a doughnut...
 

...boys rooms always smell like a science lab...
 

...tampons are not toys...
 

...kids will repeat everything they hear...at the worst possible times...

Then there are those constants that you take for granted. Those things that inevitably happen, but remind you that there is purpose in life. These moments are what lift you up when you are down...put a smile on your face when you want to cry...revive a weary soul at the end of a day. These are a few of mine...

...listening to a child read for the first time...

...hearing someone say I love you...

...watching four kids dance around the living room to Lawrence Welk...

...laughing with friends...

...having someone understand your flaws...and still appreciate you...

...watching your kids nurture each other...

...knowing your kids are going to be amazing humans...even if they're wearing an orange jumpsuit...

...knowing someone who can make you smile with your eyes

...watching your kids become independent...

...everyone eating their dinner...

...traditions everyone wants to keep...

...looking at someone and feeling blessed to have them in your life

...watching a plan, one you've obsessed about in your head, actually work...

...when opportunity arises, no matter if you are ready, go for it

...understanding that life can prove you wrong over and over again

While some of these constants you wish would go away, others are there to show you that you hope they never do. The unvarying occurrence is something you can depend on, when you have little else to depend on. Life is full of things you might not be ready for, at least you can depend on your constants.












 

...powerless

Well, I'm not sure where it came from...that's the interesting thing about grief. Even when you feel like you are doing fine, a day rolls around, for no real reason, and knocks you on your ass. About the time when you feel like you have everything in control (or at least as much as you can being out numbered), and the bottom falls out. The figurative doorbell rings, and emotions just come walking right in like you actually invited them. You can blame feminine hormones. You can blame dreary weather. You can blame a cocktail. But, the fact of the matter is when it comes, you can't make it go away until it's run it's course.

It started last week. Oscar mentioned at the breakfast table that he had a dream about Jason. We were all excited to know what happened. Turns out, nothing happened. He said he just saw his dad walking through the house. I could tell by his answer that he was a little underwhelmed. Like he had wished that it would have been more meaningful...longer...some sort of interaction that would have left him with a big grin. The often used phrase to people who are missing a loved one who is no longer here is, "...but they are with you...they are here watching you...they are loving you from a far..."And I'm sorry, but that is bologna shit.

My heart sort of broke that day for Oscar. They were given nothing. No good-bye. No closure. No chance to let their heart catch up with reality. Their last vision of Jason was on a stretcher out the window. Why didn't I let them see him on that stretcher? I would do just about anything for my kids to have just one more interaction with Jason. I would give anything for them to be able to say one more thing, give him a hug, just lay eyes on him...if for only 5 minutes. It is a pain that resonates so deeply inside of me that it actually physically hurts at times. It gnaws and tears at my heart, knowing that I am...powerless.

Atticus is now at that stage where he's verbal with no filter. He says things partly to get a reaction and partly because he doesn't know what he is saying. He likes to repeat the phrases that I might mutter under my breath, and does them with authority. He is very matter-of-fact about where his dad is. Driving down the road the other day he said, "...you know, my dad passed away...but I don't really know why or where he went..." I was sort of taken with how he phrased it. I mean he's only 3, and half the time he's talking about super heroes. He has started asking questions...the likes of which I remember Nora asking when she was his age. With each question asked, I know that it's one more I don't have real answers to. One more question that I have to try do deflect because I know his brain can't comprehend the real answer.

And then, last night as I was channel surfing, a PBS show came on, sort of Lawrence-Welk-like. The dancing started. The laughter got louder. The signature moves came out. It was hilarious, heart warming, rowdy and it made me emotional. It came in like a rhinoceros and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. I cried, hard. I could hear the giggles and the squeals, but I couldn't stop myself. I had to let it out. The scene was like that of any Saturday night five years ago, but I was the only one noticing something was missing...and once again, I was powerless.

So, today is a new day. Today is the chance to start over. Today is the day to let yesterday's grief know that while we loved having them visit, we were running out of clean towels. Today is the day when you look at yesterday and hope you've learned something. Today will be filled with tantrums, freak-outs, spilled juice, dirty clothes and dishes. However tonight, we'll get the pleasure of watching Nora at t-ball practice...and that is just pure entertainment.

Happy Mother's Day...

...I remember walking into a room just off of ours. It was empty, with exception of piles in this corner and that. A fresh coat of the most soothing green color on the walls. The only piece of furniture, a bright yellow chair sitting in the corner. I would wander into that room, sit in that big yellow chair and think. I would think about what still had to be done. I would think about what would go where. I would sit in that big yellow chair and think about the baby that would soon be living in this room. I would wonder what it would be like to be a mother...

I still remember how quiet it was sitting in that room...quiet is a foreign word around here. Of all the places in our old house, I think I miss that first baby room the most. I guess it was where I spent a lot of time, did most of my thinking, and a great deal of praying that I was actually doing things right...first time mother guilt. I could close my eyes right now and tell you how the sun fell into that room in the morning, or how in the spring the tree out front bloomed. All the times the Talls would be so tiny looking out their window in the winter waiting for the snow plows to go by. It seems like it was yesterday that I became a mother for the first time...

Mother's Day is upon us...I know because Atticus has been randomly saying to me, "...Happy-Birthday-Mother's-Day-Mom..." to me for the last week. Good to know he's caught on to bundling well wishes. My Mother's Day present (unknowingly) was given to me by my kids tonight. They gave me a trip down memory lane by watching...Lawrence Welk. It sounds odd, but when the Talls where little, we would watch it every Saturday night. Partly because it was funny to watch them, partly because it wore them out dancing and prancing all over the living room. They would dance and twirl, every once and a while Jason and I would get up to dance with them. We haven't watched it in years, actually I think tonight was Atticus' first time. They all performed some signature moves and one of the Talls finally accepted Nora's plea to be her dance partner. They were up for every song, twirling and dipping. Atticus was Oscar's slow dance partner, and I heard him ask while dancing, "...nice weather we're having?" That scant 45 minutes was probably one of the best Mother's Day gifts I have ever gotten.

 I was told the other night how fast time flies when you have kids. I've been told this many times, but when you are in the trenches of motherhood, it's hard to see the end of the road. As I was sitting there, I was mentally doing the math. Barring Atticus not be given an orange jump suit with the letters "DOC", I will be 57 years old by the time all of my children are out of my house. That's nearly 60!? That is, if I don't make this home so damned wonderful they even decide to leave...The notion made me shutter and simultaneously contemplate an intense chore chart.

 Little did I know what I was discussing in one part of the house, was invading Nora's dreams in another...but not the good kind. Being a mom is rough, all moms know that. Being a mom of children who have lost a parent is a different kind of rough. The fears that they have aren't like all the rest of the kids they know. Nora isn't the first one to express it, but her fear lies in what happens when I die. What will happen to her if I should die? Will she have to live all by herself? She doesn't want to be alone. As she is telling me this the next day, as it took her 12 hours to get the courage to talk about it, tears are streaming down her face. She actually looks like she is in pain even describing what she dreamt, how she felt, where her fear was. My heart broke. I tried to reassure her that she wouldn't be alone. I tried to tell her that if something happened to me, there would be someone here. I was careful with my words as I know all too well the phrase "take the place" is a line of crap...

This conversation was eye opening to say the least. I ditched the mental chore chart and started to think about what I get to do in the next 17 years. What I get to see raising these kids...knowing their potential...watching them grow into these cool people I see them becoming. I get to see them happy, get to console them when they are not, and get to hear them, as they have no internal volume. Silver Lining? I get to be their Mom, probably the best job I've ever had...

...how's your view?

"If I knew then what I know now..." is a concept that readily swims around in my head from time to time...like at times long enough for it to get 'pruned' fingers. Most of the time you hear this spoken it lends itself to regret and pain. It's some cautionary thought about how life/situations/time could have been better. I learned a phrase during my formative years, "...it's not better or worse, it's just different" and I think subconsciously it has taken over. And unknowingly and thankfully it has saved me at times.

Each of my children's reason for existence is very different...that sounds cryptic. What I mean is that the reasons I feel I'm lucky enough to be their parent is different. Sure I believe they were all put on this earth to accomplish something unique and exciting, but it's more. I identify who they are and what they will be maybe the most in my heart.

Oscar miracle baby. We were told we'd probably not be able to get pregnant, due to anti rejection medication that Jason was on. When we found out we did, it wasn't a feeling of "HA! TAKE THAT WESTERN MEDICINE!" It was more like the feeling of being blessed. Blessed to be parents. Blessed to have an answered prayer. Blessed to have the chance to watch something that was just ours grow. He's possibly a bit spoiled, being the oldest. He's at times a bit too literal with his thoughts. He's like granite; beautifully, endlessly layered and at times hard to crack. He was brought to this earth to engage in a unique way, with his interesting insights on life and endless creativity.

Abe was the affirmation, clearly we might no longer have a problem getting pregnant. Having babies 18 months apart gets you some very interesting looks, as if perhaps we needed another hobby. Why does anyone feel it necessary to actually say, "...you know what causes that, don't you?" Gross. At any rate, he was this whirlwind of a baby, a tad clingy, a tad ornery, but completely adorable. Always ready to entertain. Always ready to play. Always quick to pick up exactly what you NEVER wanted anyone to repeat. He's bright, entertaining, and caring. He holds this unbelievable ability to connect with the smallest of children, engage them, and wants to teach them. He was brought to this earth to be a father, first and foremost.

Nora. In a house where everyone stood to pee BUT me, Nora was the daughter I desperately needed. She was this tiny little thing in the beginning, and watching the men in my life turn to putty around her...was something I'll never forget. She's quick with a joke. Her volume is sometimes nonexistent. She's an old sole, the likes of which I cannot even put an age to. She has helped me when I really felt like giving up. She has understood, even when I couldn't answer her question. She was brought to this earth to help me remember the value of another female-drama and all. Not sure if she'll ever be a mother, but I am convinced that she will be some one's best friend.

Atticus, the truest end. He is the embodiment of the notion that you are capable of doing anything, if only you believe in yourself. He's strong willed. He fears very little. He has no concept of the word can't. I truly believe he'll never use it. He is sort of the best mix of all of his siblings. He walks up to any kid and asks them to be his friend. He is quick to show love, but will let you know if you've ticked him off. He's creative, compassionate, entertaining and a thinker. He sort of has embodied more than I probably ever thought he would at the time he was born. He has been my benchmark on parenting, if he's jacked up, well there's only me to thank for that. He will forever be my reminder that life, no matter what you are thrown, does go on...what the view looks like is entirely up to you.

We go back to the "...if I knew then what I know now...". To me, life isn't meant to be anything other than how you survive it. If I would have been told how my life would have turned after having Atticus, it would have actually been to my detriment. I would never have learned all I have about my children, or myself. I would never have been able to get past what life handed out, to understand what ELSE life CAN hand you. Yeah, I know more now than I knew then...But, tonight, when we are lighting a "3" candle on a birthday cake, I am reminding myself something. I'm reminding myself that going forward, while sometimes scary, also gives this abounding hope of what is yet to be. To my youngest, Atticus...I write this with tears in my eyes, because I think you are the bravest kid I've ever met. Let's eat that ugly cake now!

...little people and lucky pennies...

So, we're 21 days into the new year...and I've made some mental resolutions...some I've kept, some I've already slacked a bit on, and some that I've yet to accomplish. But what's life without goals, really? With every passing year, all one can really hope for is health, happiness, and good fortune. Make those doctor appointments and actually go to them. Get off your butt and get moving. Unclutter those hidden junk drawers. Start saving money for "fun projects". For me, sometimes you have to pay some of those resolutions forward in the process.

I resolved this year to make sure that I let people know what they mean to me. I am beyond fortunate to have people in my life that I honestly couldn't do without. The sun just doesn't shine out my butt everyday on this homestead, despite the impression I might give off. I am grateful to have people that keep me smiling, even when I don't want to. Sometimes these people are my offspring. Their capacity to understand me is greater than I would like at times. I am lucky, grateful, proud, and blessed to have them in my life. At times, it's difficult to remember how our lives once were...I guess that means we are rolling in the right direction and not to question it.

Then there are those people who are not genetically linked to me who keep me smiling. Their ability to mentally bail me out...understand me more than I would have ever been comfortable with before. Their love and thoughtfulness is what has kept me rolling in the right direction, even when I felt like taking a detour. My life is better with them in it and well, thank you just doesn't seem like a heavy enough sentiment...so, I'll just say I'm lucky to get to love you.

Then there are those people who possibly have no idea how much I look up to them. Their ability to lift people up, maybe even me at times, is a characteristic that is like a shiny invisible star. They have no idea how much it glimmers, but to those who need it, it's a light at the end of the tunnel. People like this aren't just a blessing to have in your life, they are like air. They are self aware, confident, thoughtful, caring, and brave. These people are like the blind little person on the campus where I went to college. Now, I'm sure it's highly politically incorrect, but seeing that guy, it was like seeing a chimney sweep, always good luck.

There are those people you can just rant to. You might not talk to them everyday, but when you are half past your rant quotient, they are there ready to listen. Hopefully they can add some fuel to that rant, get you laughing, and you forget what you were pissed about in the first place. People like this are like finding a lucky penny, you pick it up without hesitation.

Life does not guarantee you anything, but knowing love and showing it to others...it's what makes the lack of guarantee not terrifying. We are all put on this earth with a purpose. Most of your life is spent trying to find that purpose. In reality it happens without your knowledge...stop looking for your purpose and appreciate the people that give you a purpose...Happy 2015!

...smiling with your eyes...

It's that time of year again...the cold is upon us, the slippers come on, the holiday music has started on the satellite, and the urge to put out all my Christmas stuff is just beneath the skin. Not sure why this year I've wanted to skip from Halloween to Christmas. Maybe it's because we like to decorate. Maybe it's because I need a project. Maybe it's because it all seems to come and go so quickly that I want it to last longer...I think doing things like these with my kids has helped us. I think letting them be a part of these traditions has given them a sense of appreciation for this time of year. And I'm grateful for it.

There has been one constant for the last year...I've only actually mentioned him once, but he has been so much a part of our life. He has been my sounding board for lots of things. He was a single parent too, and he understands my frustrations. He appreciates me for who I am and isn't intimidated by my need for control, he recognizes it's how it all works for me. He is quick with a joke, a compliment, a laugh, and a smile. He tells hilarious stories and when naming people in them he always gives their first and last name. He is a fantastic cook, and isn't afraid to get into the kitchen, tell me to sit down, and take over. He loves to listen to music and quiz me on who sang it. He has been more than just a 'plate spinner' for me. He has shown me how much one person's heart could be so very beautiful. And I'm so very grateful for him.

The best thing about him...he loves my kids. He walks in the door and four voices shout out BEN!!! He isn't bothered by piggy-back rides, discussions of Pink Floyd and ACDC, or getting routine bear hugs from Nora. He is eager to teach them games, listen to their jokes, and steps in when my patience is wearing thin. He lets them snuggle on him, climb on him, and basically attack him. He has taught them the art of smack talk while playing Uno, quick counting for Yahtzee, the proper spiral on a football, and the best way to crack eggs. All the while reinforcing that to him, they are important.

Being the voice of reason (terrifying I know) around here 6 days a week... I look forward to the weekend. I look forward to him coming in, and seemingly everyone is in a better mood than they were before. I couldn't put it into words until yesterday. We were all sitting on the living room floor, minus Atticus who needed a court sanctioned nap. Uno was the deck of cards being dealt out, and the smack talking had begun. Cards in hand, I looked up and noticed something...everyone was smiling with their eyes. Do you know what that looks like? To me, it's one of the most beautiful, wonderful, meaningful things to see. Someone so happy, having so much fun, that their faces can't just contain it...I was grateful to see it, and figure out how to put it into words.

We have been blessed to have this person come into our lives, love us, make us feel special, remind us that we are kicking ass in life...no matter how much the kids hate dinner. We have been given this gift of a person who understands our personalities and appreciates us for it. I feel like I am right where I need to be when he is around. Unlike the holiday season, I'm not worried how quickly this moves. I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes..all the while loving the view, smiling with my eyes and grateful....