...Mrs. Raj

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shady Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

...when in doubt, know your assets!

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

The things that teenagers say...Volume I

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"...my opinions on parenting matter."

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"...I need special toothpaste."

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

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

...over a dirty martini and a veggie tray

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

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

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

The Halloween Conundrum

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

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

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

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

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

...just finished my shift at San Quinten

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

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

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

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

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

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