...over a dirty martini and a veggie tray

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

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

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

The Halloween Conundrum

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

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

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

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

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

...just finished my shift at San Quinten

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

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

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

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

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

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

...coincidence met fate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Freedom Choreography

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

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

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

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

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

...forever and always...

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

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

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

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

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

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

...my first pancake

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

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

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

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

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