...little 5 letter words...

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

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

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

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

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

Freedom Choreography

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

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

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

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

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

...forever and always...

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

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

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

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

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

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

...ghosts

I spend a lot of time seeing ghosts. Ghosts of my past, ghosts of my present and ghosts of my future. It is a hard concept to explain as no matter what has happened to a person, no one else really knows what it is like to walk in their shoes, even if their experiences have remotely been similar. It is all part of life, everyone's life, I'm not special in this circumstance. But it is how you perceive these ghosts that determine where you were, what you are doing and most importantly where you want to go.

The house that I live in is full of ghosts...figuratively speaking of course. The history that resides within its walls is telling. The old woodwork, interesting nooks, bubbly old windows and charm resonates with a person. Even nearly five years after moving in this beautiful place, I can still just sit and marvel at who once sat where I was sitting. At times I feel like if I even listen closely, I can hear the day to day that must have once gone on here, that is if I can hear them over the day to day that is currently going on. In the simplest of terms, this house feels like a hug when I have needed it, a headache when I don't know how to fix something and reminds me daily that I am, for now, right where I need to be.

My children routinely portray a ghostly glimpse to me, the likes of which used to break my heart and silently shatter my will. I would see something in them or something they did that only I knew was their dad. I wondered if my face was, at times, a tell . Then, as time passed the glimpses' edges softened, and what I saw filled me with the pride in knowing we were surviving. The ghost was a friendly reminder not of something lost, but of what I will continually gain by being their mother. I get to see them grow into these unique individuals all the while knowing that the very best parts of their father and I, we gave to them as their start in life, the rest they get to decide for themselves.

Then there are the ghosts within myself. The person I once was is so very different from the body that I walk around in today. The person who I once was is a vague image, like an old picture of people that you can't quite remember everyone's names. The person I once was, wasn't better or worse, just different...naieve...at times ungrateful for what I had. The ghosts that I see within myself have changed from that of just putting on a "brave face" to knowing and realizing that I have a bold face, the likes of which I have to love even when I don't want to. The person that I once was didn't or couldn't understand or comprehend all that life could throw at her, doubting everything she did. Doubt is inevitable, but growing and learning from it is the silver lining at the end of the day. The ghost that used to haunt me, daily and hourly, was the concept of when things were going to get better. The cliché of "...you'll know when it does", made me want to drink, scream, cry and merely give up. The fact that things actually got better without being alerted via text message, meant that it happened in such an organic way that it was REAL. It wasn't something I was doomed to have to repeat for an eternity. The "better" ghost was happening by just living, breathing, loving and healing, and while I'm proud of where I am, I'm not sentimental enough to invite that ghost back.

For the first time I can see the future ghosts, not looming in a bad way, but in a coruscant and brilliant way. These future ghosts are the ones that will reassure me of where we have been, how lucky we are to have each other and will no doubt be the moments that will fill my heart with pride and my soul with ease. These are the moments used to vex me, wondering how I would ever fill a possible void of the person not present for graduations, marriages and grandchildren. When you stop letting something you have no control over scare you, it is a freeing feeling. These future ghosts will always be present but more in the way that you see a symbol like a rainbow, butterfly, humming bird or an owl. Their subtlety will reassure you that once again you are just where you should be...and three seconds afterward you smile.

Find your ghosts, embrace them if you can, learn from them what you will and love them the best way you know how.

...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.

...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.

Lone Wolf...

Fear and loathing...that's about where we are. With the new year of school literally creeping up my rear, all the old fears set in. The anxiety of going back into a schedule, homework, laundry and hoping to not forget to wear my clothes on the outside of my underwear. Single motherhood isn't always a walk in the park, add the first few days of school into that equation and cut to me mentally drinking at 7 a.m.

Don't get me wrong, with the bickering level in this house, I'm pretty sure even the Pope would drop an F-bomb. Saying I'm ready for school to start is an UNDERSTATEMENT. But, getting out of that laid back, sleep until 9 a.m., lounge in pajamas and do nothing but worry about what posts have been missed on Instagram phase? A hard rain will fall for Oscar in 72 hours. I have already lowered the boom on Nora that the "summer-time-wardrobe" will not be part of the school-time dress code, to which I rendered her speechless for about 45 minutes. I'm worried that Abe's stand-up routine, while wildly anticipated by some, will not be for his new teacher. Atti, well he just needs to be with some other kids his own age. Tonight he said to me while dancing in the living room, "I dance alone. I'm a lone wolf." We've entered and new and exciting level of strange around here. I am hoping that the time spent AWAY from each other will some how make "the heart grow fonder," but I'm not holding my breath. I am however lousy with power at the notion that with everyone out of the house, my grocery bill will lower and my house will stay cleaner.

The unspoken fear around here is that of the unknown. Lockers. I never remember a locker striking as much fear in my heart as a kid, but around here, it is all a few people can talk about. Switching classes, gym class and showering, and don't even get me started on a conversation about a need for a study hall. I actually started laughing when Oscar said he was taking one. He kind of looked at me like I was crazy. What I didn't have any hesitation in admitting is that the one time I took study hall, I did very little studying, ever. I remember being in 5th and 7th grade, but I guess that was "way back when" according to my kids, clearly age has rendered me witless to the time of my adolescence. But I have had to hear, "...well, back in the 80's, things were different than they are now." I always answer back with, "I know, it was tough. I had less electronics and more imagination." They just look at me. Karma is one tough broad, tougher is explaining that being a kid when you actually are a kid is the only chance you get...

Most of my problem, is me. I get way to strict, stressed out or caught up about dumb things and in the process miss out sometimes on the moments that make memories. I caught myself tonight. The kids were acting crazy at dinner, and clearly the tone of my voice they have gone slightly deaf to. After telling everyone to calm down, wishing the full moon would get here and take the pressure off, I noticed something. No one was bickering, no one was fighting and everyone was acting goofy and laughing- granted the neighbors probably heard as they could have woken the dead. But I caught it. I use to try to find one decent thing a day as my take-away for said day. I've forgotten that, and tonight I was reminded I need to start again in this new start of school phase. It might be my saving grace.

Tonight at dinner, we had a semi regular conversation starter- What is your rose, your bud and your thorn for the day? The rose is something you liked, the thorn something you didn't like and the bud is something you are looking forward to tomorrow. Tonight they mostly had to do with the start of school. Meeting their teachers, seeing their classrooms and finding a boyfriend for the year...WHAT? I'm not sure if Nora really meant what she was saying or just trying to get a reaction from everyone. Oscar quickly chimed in with, "You're in 1st grade, why don't you start with that and see how it goes." Finally, some wit and wisdom that didn't come out of my witless mouth.

...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.












 

...indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight

"...so, there's this 'puberty video' and I need you to sign a consent form so I can watch it...", said Oscar. I knew the time was coming. I knew I would have to choose my words correctly when I answered this statement. I knew that like everyday that passes, we were now going to be entering the rare and wonderful world of puberty...gulp.

Rewind to a couple of weeks ago. We were at Oscar's spring music program. I was noticing things... Admittedly, boys are easy to go unnoticed when it comes to puberty, and being that I have mostly boys, I hadn't noticed. But then, when the girls started stepping onto the risers to sing, it hit me like a ton of bricks. We were needing to be nearing a time for 'the video'. In between Atticus puking all over my lap, I pondered the differences that I saw. The girls were developed, and there was a VAST difference between the 5th grade and the 6th grade boys, a few of which looked like they had already started shaving...it was starting.

So, when I was handed the permission slip, I started to skim through it...I noticed that there were dates and times, and read the words practices...WHAT THE HELL WAS I READING? Thankfully, he unknowingly handed me an archery notice from his P.E. teacher first. I nearly fell over laughing. He immediately started discussing what he'd be watching, "Boys...how our bodies are changing...". I quickly tried to quell it, at least at the dinner table. In my best mother-code (with eyebrows and head tilts towards Nora) I told him that we all weren't watching the video. There WAS a reason why his grade was watching it, perhaps he should keep some information to himself. Oscar was, and as always, un-phased by what I had said. So, again, I gently mentioned that if he decided he needed to share his new found information, say with Abe, we would quickly be looking at the business end of a hissy fit. Another discussion will be forth coming...

The whole thing got me to thinking. I know I'm not delusional to believe that these boys are going to think I know anything about growing up. I know that even though I WENT THROUGH PUBERTY, I will still be a mom who grew up in the dark ages...you know the 1980s. I got to thinking about how hopefully with Nora, maybe things would be different? Maybe she would take my advice on the smallest of life lessons to ease her way into the same stage. It got me making a mental list, a guideline really of things as a girl...the one I possibly wish I had growing up.

#1...while the boy might be nice, yes you should judge him on his friends; if he hangs around morons, chances are he is one too.
#2...if you ever walk into a room, get into a car, or are generally alone with a boy, and Keith Sweat is playing- get out of there! NOW! That boy has plans, and it's not homework.
#3...if you go on a blind date, get into the boy's car, and he has platform shoes higher that any heel you own, fake sick and go home.
#4...if the boy listens to music that is disrespectful to women, chances are he is too.
#5...if a boy you are with gets cold and asks for YOUR coat, he's not a gentleman, he's a wimp and not worth your time.
#6...if the boy might not spend a lot of money, but takes the time to do something special for YOU from his heart, he is someone worth spending time with.
#7...watching a movie is code for "making out"...know what you are getting yourself into.
#8...anyone who tells you you're beautiful isn't a bad thing, as long as he is genuine...if you have to tell him he is, he is not confident enough to be around you.
#9...never let anyone tell you that being smart isn't beautiful.
#10...you are perfect the way you are, anyone who can't deal with that isn't worth dealing with.
#11...lying to your mom is wrong and she will know when you have done something wrong, at times before you even do it.
#12...loving someone means you don't have to spend every waking minute with them even though you might want to.
#13...what you have to say matters.
#14...one bad decision can effect the rest of your life.
#15...if you can't handle/aren't comfortable with it, it's not a scarlet letter, it's your conscious telling you to think.
#16...girl friends are few and far between, but you don't want those that stifle you.
#17...remember what is going on around you when you are with someone you like...one song years later can bring back memories as if you are still in the moment.
#18...treat yourself, but letting the other person treat you is okay too.
#19...being yourself will ALWAYS be better than trying to be someone else.
#20...personal hygiene is important, if he doesn't smell good now, chances are he never will.

I know that some of these aren't large revelations. Hopefully I might be able to pass along to more than Nora...but my expectations of any of my children wanting to know my opinion on such matters are low. Just tonight Oscar said he doubted the married Duggar kids ever "frenched" their spouses...I quickly changed the subject. I'm not going to sugar coat it, this whole topic gives me a feeling of indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight. I'm not going to pretend I've read any books on the matter. I'm not going to pretend that I will know the right things to say when the time arises. Blind faith? Maybe. From the hip is how I plan to roll. Luckily for my ill fated kids, I have a new one...

...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....

...lucky underpants...

It's not a foreign feeling. I've done it twice before. I thought it would leave me feeling different than it did. I sent my third child to preschool today. It left me feeling kind of conflicted...a mixture of excited and nostalgic. Not sure if it's because this one has been home with me the longest? Not sure if it's because I feel this one has been desperate for peer interaction? Not sure if it's because her littlest brother has been pretending to talk to her all morning on a fake cell phone? But, as Oscar stated rather solemnly at the breakfast table this morning "...Nora, these are the last few hours of freedom, you better enjoy them, there's no going back..."

She is overly verbal- wonder where she gets it? She's eager to be in a room full of kids, raise her hand, show what she knows, and learn new things. It's heartwarming to see so much excitement about what most take for granted. Last night I asked her what she thought school would be like, and she said she had only seen school on TV, would it be like that? I told her maybe. She very seriously looked at me and said "...you know, I haven't mastered much math yet...". I told her not to worry about it, I haven't mastered much math either, and I no longer go to school.

Nora and her Aunt Gail picked out an outfit for the first day (she's way more fashion forward than a mom). The description of said outfit was priceless, completely Aunt Gail...

  "...she has a dress, white ankle socks, tennis shoes, 3 hair accessories, and her lucky underpants..."

And when I found her this morning this morning she was whipping up the beauty, putting on her lucky underwear and told me she would meet me downstairs. She was giddy. She was bouncy. She was starting to drive her brothers insane. Atticus must have said 49 times "...I ride bus to scccoooll?" To which I repeatedly told him no one was taking a bus to school. Finally at the 49th time I said "YES, now go look out the front window and wait for it to get here!"

We, her sidekick of the last 2.5 years and I, drove her to school. We took the obligatory picture in front of a school sign. She ran in, and kept saying, "I'm so excited!" No tears like the two dozen or more times I've left her with people to even run errands. No look of 'YOU CAN'T LEAVE'. It was nice. I had this strange feeling of pride and excitement for her. As I mentioned before, she's stayed home with me the longest. By this age her brothers would have had a year of preschool and be starting kindergarten, their birthdays were more perfectly timed...and I feel lucky to have been able to be home with my only girl for so long. Never mind being outnumbered, it's SOLIDARITY SISTER!

Within 1.8 minutes of being in this preschool, regardless of the fact that this was HER first time here, she was telling another classmate where to hang their backpack. I thought, she's got this...only to look down at Atticus bawling his eyes out! Partly because he couldn't stay, and partly because Nora was. I've got to be honest, I never saw that coming. He spent the rest of the morning talking like she was here, wanting to know when she'd be home, and slightly milking his desperation for all it was worth. When the bus actually did come and drop Nora off, she got out, raised her hands in the air and yelled, "BEST DAY EVER!!!"

For me, it's another milestone that I've compassed single parenting. I was wondering if dread was going to flood through me today. I woke up early and started the coffee just in case I needed a bit of a meltdown myself. I'm not sappy about my kids going to school, but our circumstances are different than they were when my others went. I realized that we all have a hand in raising each other. My kids are all really great kids. They know their strengths, know others weaknesses, let's face it they are kids. BUT they all have a hand in how we, for the lack of a better term, all turn out. However, the one I was going to send out in the world, she's been my therapist, my touchstone to reality, my best girl friend. Hell, if she were old enough she'd be a drinking buddy. Watching her turn the corner on so many (lets face it, a lot of crafts to hang) really great new experiences...without her mom hanging around. I knew she was ready. I was just really, really relieved, delighted and strengthened to see that SHE knew she was ready...and now, onto the fundraisers!

...good-bye summer...

Pulling up to eight-one-five that day, I knew I would see changes… I knew that things would look different. Little did I know the fall-out mentally that would ensue in the hours/days afterward. How does one put a term to what I was feeling? It wasn’t that of a spouse. It wasn’t that of a child. It wasn’t that of a sibling. It was all of those on another level. Pulling up to the house that I have found comfort, refuge, even spiritual significance in looked different…very different.

 I was blessed in the spring, thank you to many friends and family’s support, to win a yard make-over contest. To me, applying for such a contest seemed futile, never for a moment thinking that I would win. But, as I said, due to many friends and family voting for us, we won. For me, the headache of yard maintenance with boys that never learned from their dad “how to” mow was an uphill battle. I would walk out into our yard and immediately grimace at all the work that needed to be done while simultaneously marveling at how great our yard was. I’m unbalanced I know. At any rate, we won this wonderful chance to beautify the outside of our house while making it so much more maintenance free. Their demo day (removing what needed to be out, to replace with fresh, new, and easy) wasn’t a day I was figuring would be that emotional…but it was.

 I place, more than I had ever thought, a lot of importance to this house. Like previous mentioned, I’m not sure how to quantify it, other than a person. Someone you love. Someone you trust. Not someone you are obligated to by blood. A warm, soft, beautiful something that you feel connected to. This house has such a presence, physically and spiritually. It has been my touch-stone over the last year and a half. Comforting me when I’ve been in doubt. Reassuring me when I’ve begun to question it. This house has holds a special significance in the deepest part of my heart.

 The attachments one holds can’t really be put into words. Fear. Anxiety. Transition. They are like a symbol of perseverance and the continuance of life. To me, this house has always been the strong-hold. The one thing that even if it falls in around our heads, we all have together, just the five of us. It has been our sanctuary and safe haven when we needed it. Pulling up to a new version of that, well honestly my mind was blown. Knowing that this place we call home, held so many more attachments to me than just an address.

 In this whole process hindsight has taught me how easy I may have had it in the beginning. It has given me a moment to appreciate that time is a miraculous thing. What once was, has to change as that is the only way to grow. The routine I once held, is changed up. Three are heading to school in less than a month. One is breaking free (screaming and kicking) of what once pacified him. While the façade changes, my heart still holds tight. In that moment I am able to appreciate what we’ve been through and look forward to our new reality. Good-bye summer. Good-bye yard. Hello the endless possibilities that still await us…

...fight the power, not Jim Bauer...

Not sure if it was what I thought might be a rouge dirty diaper, which turned out to be a dead mouse? Or a crying Nora, coming to me to tell me that she was scared to go to heaven? Or the emotional charge that has been slowly filtering through this house for the last week? Like running your stocking feet around carpet in the winter, waiting to get shocked...There was no way around it, today was Father's Day whether we liked it or not...

I can’t help my hormonal tendencies, but it seems like Nora is now on board my crazy train as well… There are only so many emotional outbursts I can take, especially when I know I'm not really making a dent in the questions/concerns she has. About the time I think I've resolved something that is troubling her, in an instant she has another. Currently it's warts, pink insulation, scars, and not wanting to go to heaven...at least for this week. I'm grateful she willingly brings these issues up, yet stunted how quickly she can acquire them...

But the ones that really drive me crazy are those that never make it to the surface, sitting just below the skin, brewing. I can change the subject. I can direct the conversation in a million different ways…all in the hopes that my kids don’t remember Father’s Day is coming. I talked about it at different times, never really trying to make a big deal out of it…I guess sort of wanting to leave it up to how they feel…

Well today, there was little left for interpretation. They asked if we had to leave the house, meaning go to church. They made some rather valid points...stating we would go to church and hear all about how it's Father's Day. I think one of the Talls actually said, "...yeah, that sounds like fun?" We laid on my bed, sort of taking turns getting teary. The boys couldn't tell me why "exactly". Atti just kept looking me in the face saying, "...you crying? Mommy crying..." as if I needed reminding. Nora, it was a heaven/wart combo. I laid there wondering...wow, these kids are screwed on this holiday. They have grandfathers that they love, but it's what they are missing, the void, that can't really be filled.

They lay around me, and I can't help but hurt for them. I can't help but think of a word that I hate, fair. I hate that word. It's usually a word someone uses when they have no real notion of what it means. They use it, and then wish to gain sympathy from it. Someone who really understands what it means, very, and I do mean VERY rarely uses it. I fought my urge to just roll over and let this day kick us in the can. We weren't going to let it tell us what or how we should do things today. Of course, this is total lip service to my brain, but I just kept reminding myself of it.

I faltered a bit, as I was scanning the channels on the TV next to Oscar and I uttered, "...this is complete bullshit, let's go to church..." He sort of snickered. Hopefully, that's never embroidered on a pillow for me...not my proudest moment. The Talls were like oracles. Everything they said we would have to hear was dead on, though interestingly enough it was parlayed into a discussion of the World Cup. I started playing with Atti's toys, then counted everything in front of the church, twice. I actually thought about the hill just above our church. How going down it, screaming the whole way? We needed something like that today...the release! I got us to church. Get through church. Leave out the side door when it was over and get on with the day. I needed to turn it around somehow...we just needed to have FUN, any kind would do.

The pool...it was like some magic drug. It was like that water washed off all the crap we'd been carrying around for the last week. Jumping in, splashing around, seeing friends, feeling the warm sun on your skin...it was our release. It was finally something I could do...to finally turn this day around. They found a tree frog. They named him. They begged to take it home with us, carrying it around like some pocket pet they've had for years. It was nice to see them excited about something so simple...it was nice to see them really smile.

Only later, when I was I reading a friend's Facebook status, did I completely understand how to tackle this day from this point forward. Simply stated it said,

"...I say we re purpose Father's Day and Mother's Day...just call it Family Time...that's what it really should be"

Thank you so very much...

 

 

...toilet deodorizer as aftershave

You should know...I'm a broken record. But, there are some things, ways I live my life that are just plain necessary. They may sound 'Polly-Anna' to have to be repeated let alone even said once...But time is a mysterious thing. Time can take away from you what you most desperately need. Time can give you one last chance at something you most desperately want. Time can teach you what you inevitably wish you knew when you had the chance.

Insert the silver lining. For me, they have been necessary for survival. Finding SOMETHING POSITIVE to glean out of a situation, well it takes effort. At least it takes your mind to a place of gratefulness, even if it is for the ability to spell grateful. I guess I see them, silver linings, now more because I know how blindly I have lived my life before. Never really appreciating the things that REALLY mattered when I had the chance. The things that can't properly be recreated after the fact. The notion now that time waits for NO ONE. Fleeting doesn't even begin to describe when you missed that moment, that opportunity...My silver lining from this is, I am DAMNED grateful (and I just had auto correct fix my spelling of grateful). I am so very appreciative of those I know who care for me, those who appreciate what I do for them, and the ones who would fight for me if I needed them to. Time may wait for no one, but it has taught this one what matters.

This issue of time is poignant this weekend. Our family is all getting together for Abe's First Communion. It's hard to believe that he's not still four years old, using toilet deodorizer as aftershave any more. I'm hoping to some how avoid the phrase, "...at Oscar's First Communion..." Clearly life has happened since then. Time didn't wait. It has been tough for Abe, as there were a few things he didn't get to ever do with his Dad that Oscar did. I cannot read his mind, but if I could I think I would read a chronological list of all the things he didn't get to do with Jason. It's a tough pill to swallow, explaining time to an 8 year old. I'm hoping to fill this house with love, laughter and fun, so that the obvious might be a bit less so. Abe is the middle kid, and even though his personality is larger than life, he sometimes gets lost in the shuffle.

While shuffling, he's usually watching/playing with the younger kids without even being asked...he's just a gem...with a bit of a mouth on him, but he's earned it. I always dread these situations. Wondering if with time they will heal us/themselves? Remembering the first school program after Jason died, wondering how Abe was feeling just seeing who wasn't there. There will have to be a discussion before the end of the week. As a parent, it's like being fearful of ripping off an invisible Band-Aid. Wondering/hoping that the dialog will leave him feeling better than before it started. I would like to labor under the delusion that if the Talls wanted to talk about something, they would come and do so. But, I'm old and a woman...could never be a member of their 'Fight Club'...

I would also be lying if I said I wasn't worried about something Abe might do. He likes to fancy himself a 'showman'. I'm more than a little worried about what his Finale act might entail in front of family and our small church. I'm worried it will be seen more as a Cabaret Night, and less like a First Communion. He might surprise me, but I know it won't lack in entertainment. And there it is...my silver lining.

...you're gonna want this...

Time is an interesting thing. The older you get, the faster it flies by you. When you have kids, it seems like one minute you are wishing for certain stages to end. Before you know it, they've moved on four stages in the blink of an eye. My ongoing battle, both physically and mentally is knowing I never really spend enough time with my kids...no, I'm not on glue.

The time I spend with my kids, well, is constant. However, it is really rare to spend one on one time with any of them. For me, there are at times just not enough hours in my mental time clock. So, it's come to the point that I am starting to schedule it. When you start to feel like you're living with strangers who never pick up their underwear, you've missed out on something, or at least that's how I feel. The other night, I scheduled one such event, to take Abe and Oscar to confession. Abe was making his first confession, Oscar was unaware that he too would be going. They were a little nervous and I, well, I was really dreading it...

I have admittedly dropped the ball on a few things in my life...more than a few things. There is just no easy way to do all that 'needs' to be done with four kids by myself...I'm not sure I can even use that excuse anymore, but oh well. So, we were going to confession. Nora of course thought it was a party that she should also attend, but I lowered the boom on that. Abe was more nervous about what he should say. "So, what should I tell him?", he would ask Oscar or I. Oscar, being the closet theologian that he is, gave him a list of respectable 'sins' that would pass. Letting him know that he didn't want to go overboard his first time. I let Abe know that while Oscar's degree from the University of Phoenix was in the mail, it was really just up to his own heart to know.

We were there. The tension in our pew was palpable. I gave Abe a leaflet that was in the back of church about examining one's conscience, he gripped it tightly, glancing at it occasionally. At one point, I offered him an 'out'. At first, I wasn't sure if I was proud of that moment, but now I kind of am. I basically told him, in a hushed whisper, "...if you are not ready to do this, you don't have to. This is a commitment, and if you don't feel like you are ready to make it, there is always next year, no big deal..." Honestly, sometimes I wonder... Just because you are in the second grade and everyone else is buying the white dress or navy tie, does that mean you are ready? Does that mean you even understand that you are now an active member in what goes on every Sunday? Does any of this make sense to anyone?...that might be another blog.

So, it's time to go in...there are about a dozen people there, and I have a sitter at the house and I've promised ice cream afterward. I looked at him as if to scream GO ALREADY, and he just looked at me. I thought, be an example. I got up and I was the first one in confession. I came out, noticing my kids were in two different lines behind grey haired women. I thought, well they figured that one out I guess. I watched as they went in their separate rooms. Oscar came out nearly running with a smile on his face. He sat down next to me in the pew, as if forgetting where he was, and said "What's up!?" I whispered, are you forgetting anything? He was, he knelt.

The other door opened. Abe came out. He walked right up to the girl that was next to go to in and hands her his leaflet and says, "...you're gonna want this this..." I nearly died. Clearly he found his confidence in that room, and for that matter, figured out what to say. He also forgot where he was for a moment, bouncing into the pew as if he was flouncing down on the couch next to me. I repeated my earlier whisper, and he knelt for a moment.

Upon the van door shutting, they were chattering like a couple of ladies at a card party. Why they liked their priest? Was it dark in there? It was loud in my room. Did you face your priest? Mine had a soothing voice...But the best question was, "...so Mom, what did you tell the priest?" I asked them what kind of ice cream they wanted and changed the subject...