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

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

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

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

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

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

...friends, sunshine and fences...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...to Graduates, Middle Age and Bucket Lists

It's funny what comes with an upcoming road trip with four kids. The lists have started. The laundry is being washed as we speak. The mental time tables have been made, and we're still a mere seven days out from leaving. The amount of junk that I have piled up in the corner of my room would get me a guest spot on the Dr. Phil Show or at least a prime time spot on the TV show Hoarders. Nearly 13 years I have been traveling with kids to Indiana or destinations beyond. Why is it still an assemblage of cringe just to leave the driveway?

This trip is not necessarily like others we have taken. There will be family, friends and memories to be made, but there will be celebrations. My niece, whom it seems like yesterday she was born, is graduating from high school. I am beyond grateful to be her aunt, noting quite often that I'm not necessarily cool enough to be related. She is this amazing young woman with an awe inspiring drive and sense of adventure and she will no doubt turn this world on its ear. She is wise beyond her years and brimming with the ability to discuss/debate/inform on any topic, and she's not yet 18 years old. It has been an honor to watch her grow up, but the next scene of her life will inspire me and no doubt all of those to which she comes into contact. She and I share the same first name, and I marvel at her thirst for wanderlust. Katherine Grace, I cannot wait to see where life takes you.

This trip is also a celebration of sisterhood, friendship and family. My sister Kelley, is nine years older than me. We shared a room and a bed for the first 10 years of life. She saw me through bed wetting, bras, periods, fashion mishaps and subliminally taught be every song created from 1980-1986. Other than my mom, she has been the other woman I have been blessed to look up to, draw advice from and emulate, if at all possible. She bought me my first album, Huey Lewis and the News, Sports. She took me to my first concert, Chaka Kahn. While she might be turning a very pronounced 50 years old, in my eyes she is still 18, teaching me about green M&Ms, telling me the best way to wrap a class ring and making friendship pins on our stunning rainbow shag carpet in our room at 153 Washington Street.

Sometimes you are lucky enough to find friends you consider family, and the luck comes in the idea that they aren't actually related to you, yet they still claim you. I am blessed with my friend April, of whom I met at the age of 17, on the other side of the world, and we have been friends ever since. While I have worn the "40 Year Young" sash for longer than she, we are heading out to cross off an item on her bucket list. A full on, over the top, blow out, 3 day extravaganza declaring to anyone who is crazy enough to put up with us, "Make 40 Fierce!" I am imagining it akin to Thelma and Louise, except no one dies at the end. Our last no kid, south of the Mason/Dixon Line adventure was far too long ago, we owe it not only to ourselves, but let's face it the world. My goals are to laugh, enjoy a cocktail, tell stories, soak up the sun and make memories with a person that I am REALLY GOOD at making memories with.

For the first time ever, Nora is spending nearly a month away from home. Her brothers are going to camp for a week, and really needed some such adventure of her own. She is heading up to stay with my parents, which is right up her alley as it is a whole new audience to try out her already worn out material that we get to see. She thankfully let me pack her bag for her, as her notion of "hobo-chic" is not something I want shared with the world. Every time she talks to my mom, there are new and wondrous adventures that they have planned with her while she is there. I'm curious if she'll even want to come home. She has to be excited to get some one-on-one time as that is somewhat of a rarity around here. My hope is that any bad manners that I'm trying to get her to stop doing, will be taken care of by July 1. However, I'm sure by then she'll have developed a longing for MASH reruns and nightly popcorn snacks. TOTALLY WORTH IT!

This summer we have a lot to celebrate from beautiful women to bucket lists! I am grateful that I get the chance to take my kids to see their Indiana family, as it doesn't happen every year. My hope that no matter how our two-state-away-stay-cation goes, we can make memories, have fun and get out of the norm if just for a little while. I realize my nostalgia is getting ahead of myself, knowing they'll no doubt remember is the things that go wrong, or they time I yelled at a Burger King Drive-Thru for no other reason than exhaustion...yes, I speak from experience. My wish is that they can see the quality time verses the quantity and take one minute of the entire trip and know that if it weren't for me, the 10 day trip would be really uncomfortable if someone hadn't packed their underwear.

Where is Isaac Washington when you need him?

...the end is near. Can you feel it? Can you feel the complacency that is most simply entitled "The Last Week of School?" Soon there will be piles of supplies that were either gently used or ravished but "have to be saved" because they hold some hopefully not forgotten memory of the grade that was. My house is currently under the state of appearing like a "hazardous waste sight," so I am on protest. Why clean now, when I will no doubt need a dumpster to clean whatever comes out of a backpack/locker/cubby on Friday? So, I lie in wait...

Usually, I have come up with some sort of system or schedule to try to counter act my no-doubt problems with the complaint department, my precious offspring. I ready myself, as if charging the breach for the following statements: I'M- bored/hot/tired/hungry/annoyed with a sibling/dealing with sensory overload/might be two days from turning into a vampire because I've sat inside for too long. Then there is the comment that I count the days until I hear, "...you're no fun." Fun? FUN? Who do you think I am? Julie McCoy from The Love Boat? And if so, where is Isaac Washington? He's more along the lines of what I need in this house at times. Why do parents fall into that drastic, laugh in the face of death trap of feeling like they have to entertain their kids all summer long? What happened to just going outdoors?

Honest to God. I don't think I spent one minute in my house, other than to eat or use the restroom (and let's face it sometimes that was easier to do outdoors), EVER! I would wake up in the morning, head outside, grab my bike and I was off! Of course, I had to round up my crew, all of which lived on my block, and the rest of the day would just fall into place. Riding bikes around, of course never leaving, the block for HOURS. We'd take a break to pretend fight off monsters or be in a cut throat cop chase, and be back on our banana seat Schwinn bikes. Not sure how it was that we never left the block, but from any point of said block, you could always hear your parents calling you in for dinner...that was the only time we stopped. Then as the twilight of the evening would set in, we would try to catch those magical lightening bugs or play ghosts in the graveyard, whilst trying not to pee your pants in fright.

But today, there is a whole marketing scheme to try to keep kids merely entertained during the summer. Camps, sports, art, music, engineering...it's like applying for a college course load. Every day is a chance to learn something new, I'm all about that. I guess where I'm stunted is the mere fact that we have to leave our yard to do so. Are we creating individuals that are incapable of entertaining themselves? Are we creating humans that need some sort of circus show every 45 minutes? As an adult, you don't do this for yourself. You might set up a few fun trips over the summer...take some trips to the pool...catch a movie. As an adult with children, most of your summertime is trying to deprogram your kids from being a hermit or resembling Gollum from lack of human interaction and sunlight.

So, I sent my kids to bed, under protest of course because why have a bedtime during the last week of school and so on, with an assignment: Think of one thing a week (swimming doesn't count, that is my thing to wear you out) that we can do. Something cheap, attainable (No Nora, we cannot go to a firing range) and E-D-U-C-A-T-I-O-N-A-L. Yeah, that last one ought to make them scratch their heads until the wee hours of the night. In summers past, I would just make up a schedule, not as something that must be followed to the letter, but more a standard of living...something akin to "Taco Tuesday." My hope is that if there is some ownership in the plan, there will be less arguing, complaining and dare I say quite possibly more fun. I already lowered the boom that one morning a week everyone is helping clean...they were super thrilled with that one.

The findings of my assignment were insightful...Well, not really. Nora was the only one who really took the assignment seriously, writing out something fun to do every day of the week. Clearly, she is the Julie McCoy of this Love Boat! Some of her ideas were, but not limited to: baking, board games, walks to the park, cleaning and library visits. Her tenacity and determination were commended and her plans will be put into action. Then very abruptly, Abe merely suggested that they play outdoors everyday (which I'm sure will not be thrilling by day 5) and Saturday would be an inside day. Oscar protested the entire assignment as something not worth his time and energy, stating "...it's not like we're actually going to do any of this..." To which I declared that the summer of '17 is perhaps the FREE BABYSITTING SUMMER he had always dreamed of. Atticus, exactly as his personality dictates, merely said, "Yeah, I'll go with the flow..."

So as The Love Boat of 815 Washington, well not exactly a lot of outwardly love, navigates its way through the next 3 months called summer, we do so with purpose. Hopefully we will learn something, be entertained, educationally enriched and well, let's drop some truths, survive to tell the tale. On a side note, I am currently taking applications for persons willing/able to fill the role of Isaac Washington for the summer of '17...

...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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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