Right Now

Tears. Salty, painful, sobbing, choking tears.
Why do you come now?
Where were you last night when all was dark?
When there was no one to see my pain?
Now you're falling on my desk and my work
Another reminder of all the hurt.
I can't escape it
Have no place to go,
The sorrow that I know.
Its in every song
and every cell of me
That misses you.
Tears falling like rain.
The rain we used to say was just for us.
Tears cause we don't trust
and tears that hurt like I'm a little girl
on my knees screaming and banging my fists
You're what I want.
And I want you to stay.
Make the tears go away.

Valentines Day

Its 12:30.  I have made it through three flower deliveries and one chocolate delivery.  Two for the same girl, none for me.   Thats okay because I vowed to have no expectations today.  Instead of thinking about all the things he could do (and boy is the list long).... I should think about what I have, what I could do - for me and my girls.  Hallmark really set us all up on this one.  A day to share love is great.  There are many who love me and I love in return.  So I shouldn't get stuck on the romance idea of flowers and chocolate and jewelry.  Honestly, I'm not craving anything that can be bought.  I'm more of a love note on a pillow kind of girl.  A heart shaped pancake.  Whats got me so down today is that I am losing (slowly) the love of my life.  He is moving out.  In the iterim we are clinging to the days we have before he is officially out.  Beyond that he says we'll be fine.  We'll date.  We'll still be in love.  But for me its like being given the most precious gift only to be told here, hold it, now give it back.  You can't have it anymore.  The quiet of the morning, reaching over to feel his hearbeat and the stubble on his chin.  To have him open his eyes and say good morning angel (when I look like the devil) is what I am losing.  I'm aching and grieving, but somehow supposed to be smiling and thankful for what I have.  I know people are starving and dying and suffering all over.  There are soldiers who can't be here with their families.  There are people completely abandoned with no one to love seeking happiness from a needle in their arm or the bottom of a bottle.  We're all the same.  All seeking that warm fuzzy happy I have someone to love and love me back and take on the world...  And today, as people flit about buying mementos of love - I'd trade all that in for one more morning in his arms. My girls will enjoy Valentine parties with friends.  It is a sweet day.  We baked our sugar cookies.  We hung our heart shaped wreath.  I did experience the fairytale Hallmark holiday last year with dinner, wine, music, dessert, roses and jewelry.  I'm glad I did.  It was wonderful.  But shortly after that date I broke up with him because I couldn't have those mornings.  Damn't.  Thats what I want.  I try to say its not time.  Its not meant to be.  But its simply what I want and what fills me.  I flit around happy and energectic and motivated.  Without that love, I feel overwhelmed, burdened, cursed. Maybe I need therapy.  Maybe they'd tell me to be happy with me before I can be with anyone.  I've heard it all.  I just know that this heart God gave me wants what it wants. So whatever today means to you and your loved ones, I hope you fall asleep full and happy.  And don't forget it doesn't have to on the calendar to show and give love to all those you love in your life.

I Got To Wear Red

Last year I had a fairytale Valentine Day that every woman should have...

There’s a day set aside for fairytale love –

Some say why pick just one day?

So tell me you don’t believe

And you don’t need

But you know

I got to wear red.

I got to turn every head.

I got a fairytale

For just one day.

A table for two

Only me and only you.

Chocolate, wine, and whipped cream kisses –

Tell me that’s not what every girl misses.

Cause you know

I got to wear red.

I got jewelry laid out on the bed.

I got a fairytale

For just one day.

Tell me a year takes away the pain

You don’t think of me in the rain…

And you remember

I got to wear red.

For just one day…

I’m thankful for that fairytale

I do believe and I need

To wear red.

Just Smile

Your smile caught mine
Across the way
I was drawn to you
Since that day...
You tipped up my chin
On that first night
Said my smile
Was beautiful.
How many smiles we shared
Like no one else ever cared.
But tears are flowing now
All through the day
I was torn from you
Along the way...
You tipped up my chin
Last Friday night
Said my smile
Had gone.
How many ugly words we shared
Wondered how we ever cared
And the tears are here to stay
Since your smile caught mine...

Havoc

Oh, my... this week. Well, for most - its back to school...  and even those who don't utilize the overly popularized public school system, get to enjoy the traffic and the harriedness that ensues.  So - I personally was very much looking forward to the start of school and the routine and giving up my angst to earn "Entertainer of the Year".  Our summer was very fun filled and we got to see and do so many wonderful things.  But most days revolved around coordinating schedules with other friends and families and trying to make sure the kids were somewhat supervised.  And all that added to working full time and then some was wearing me even thinner.  (Figuratively that is.  For some reason I'm not my summer-salad-eating thin version right now.) Perhaps its because I'm turning 40.  That's another blog. So - while I spent the first six years of Motherhood happily perched on my homeschooling soapbox, it did feel weird to be "one of those moms" wishing her kids into the care of someone else for eight plus hours a day.  Perhaps its because they were home alone and I just wish it were me.  Anyway - plan B (or possibly close to Z by now) of our life is simply that I must WORK A LOT to make sure Thing 1 and Thing 2 can eat.  Its a good day when tummies are full.  If there's anything left for adventure or activities, then yay!!! Thankfully, with all the woes I've endured in my adulthood, I have two pretty well adjusted little people. They're old souls who've seen and heard too much.  But they're super resilient and probably have taught me as much or more as I have them.  They are good sleepers.  They can sleep through anything.  That affords this full time 365 day a year mom some much need silence.  I can be up for hours before they awake and enjoy the quiet and still of the morning.  My saving grace.  They are good friends.  They're hilarious and have the greatest friends.  Girls that I would claim as my own.  They're fearless.  Not something I'd say came from my genes.  They have taught me to face my fears.  Most recently, riding in a hanging, dangling chair to 10,000 feet elevation.  They're fun.  They're goofy.  They know when to hug me.  They know when to retreat to the other side of the house.  They know all three of us produce estrogen.  Thankfully not in sinque, yet.  And I am finding myself being ever so thankful now that they are good students.  They like school.  They make decent grades.  They make great grades when they push themselves.  They like people.  They're adaptable. They're okay in this institution while I am slave driving.  It is innately unnatural to me to put 25 plus children in a room and expect them to conform.  Conform to the clock.  Conform to the silence.  Conform to the expectations, the rythym of the others in the room.  To silence their own innate voices.  To be hungry when the clock says so.  To pee when the clock says so.  I wanted to spend each day exploring the world with them.  We could knock out what it takes 8 hours to do in public school in three and have the rest of the day to learn through simply living. Cooking, baking, painting, singing, dancing, sharing, giving - so many things! Now those things are crammed into oh-too-short evenings where homework and dinners and baths take the lead, and weekends that just aren't long enough to fit in all that and friends families and that elusive thing I dream of - SLEEP!  So "havoc" seems to be what I am reading from all of the blogs and tweets and posts and texts from the women in my life.  Note, there's a "blue moon" to top it off.  Add that and a uterus = bat shit crazy.  I explained all this to my super sweet boyfriend and told him he has a pass...  he is so incredibly understanding.  So within the chaos, I realized in my darkest, sleep deprived moments, I felt the trigger....  that feeling I used to have in my marriage.  The one that turns on the voice telling me I need Xanex.  STOP. NO. NEVER GOING THERE AGAIN. LITTLE PEOPLE NEED ME!!!!!!  I used to feel  I was treading water, that a certain someone had me by the ankles, and one good yank I'd go under.  Again, another blog.  Suffice to say, I decided this week that I was going to pull up out of hormone/moon hell and count my blessings, be present, and use those triggers to handle the havoc.  I'm strong.  I don't always want to be.  I want my turn to curl up like a baby and bawl and hide and contribute to the rising stock of Hagaan Daez.  But I know where that gets me.  What if I did something different?  Aha - "good" trigger.  The last time I did something different I drove away from my little shack of Heaven, eleven year marriage, with my girlies. Period. No job. No plan. No money.  And, um, I survived.  Some could argue I thrived. And knowing that, well, I can't just succumb to a week of havoc.  Nope.  I may have fears of heights, fears of speed, fears of all sorts of creepy crawlys, but the fear of my children not having their mother Whole and at least able to fake it till bed time that everything's okay - well, I can't succumb to the havoc.  Give me a two hour mushy chic flick and a box o kleenex. I'll cry cause the plot is heartwrenching and then I'll be crying four hours later for every wrong to every woman on earth, pat my padded Hagaan Daez ass and DEAL.  So, I write this, with thoughts of all the women in my life who are dealing with the crazy of other people, the schedules society binds us to, the work, the sleeplessness of it all, and remind us all - that doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity - which we are not.  So, when havoc knocks on your door.  Put on your big girl panties, your hottest high heels, and and answer. Open that door and do something different. One, tiny, little thing, and you'll be sprung into strong mode.  For your little people.  For the woman in you who isn't gonna tread water, who's not stuck.  Its kind of funny to think of all the books out there on how to raise up our kids, how to fix ourselves... how to simply deal with life - there just simply isn't a book on how to live YOUR LIFE.  MY LIFE.  And so I take a little of this, a little of that, a lot of faith and hope, and hopefully at the end of the day there are full tummies, little smiles, average grades, and hearts that are full and strong.  If I don't do it the way someone else does, or can inspire someone else to try one thing to make the havoc co exisit - well, its been a good day.  I put my girlies to sleep tonite with our traditional "taco tuck in" (covers tucked on both sides) and told them I'm proud of them.  Lexi tried out for volleyball two years in a row.  She celebrated her friend's success and cried her own tears and found a way to be okay that she will participate in "off season" and not on the team.  Anni is sleeping in her own bed.  Singing. I've always said a singing child is a happy child.  So, week one, WE WON.  We are whole and united and maybe a little shaken...  we are ready to continue on, trying new things, putting triggers in their place and being strong - even in our broken places.

You is Kind. You is Smart. You is Important.

I got lost in a book today.  "The Help"...  its been on my "to read" list for a while... I don't read like I used to. I miss it.  I was reminded of that today, when I devoured a few chapters on my lunch hour and was late getting back to work because the time slipped away.  And tonight, as I read till I finsished the whole book.  I felt like a little girl again.  Safe in my bed, escaped to someone else's world, someone else's problems.  I love books.  I love the stories, the people.  They may be fictional, but they are us - where else could their stories come from? This particular book just opened up my soul.  I felt so much peace the past three days.  I felt like a woman.  A woman charged with making something of myself so I have stories to tell my children.  My grandchildren.  The setting of the book, in 1962, was a different time.  You didn't google your questions.  You asked your grandmother. I loved my granny.  I could crawl up in her lap and ask her anything. And she could tell me anything.  Good secrets.  Stuff I was special enough to know.  I miss her.  I love spending time with older people, soaking their stories in.  See, the things we remember are people...relationships.  This book wasn't about pretty things.  It was about the heartache inside black women, working for white families.  Raising their children, but banished to use seperate toilets.  In the end...  no matter the color of skin, these women had relationships.  They loved the same children.  They kept the same secrets from their husbands.  You can't make this stuff up.  Its timeless. It was a beautiful story.  It opened me up, raw spots.  Things I let scab over, but maybe I need to peel the scab off and let it heal better this time.  I need to un-plug.  I need laughter in my belly.  I need to watch the world through the eyes of my children.  I will remember the tuck ins and the giggles.  I will remember my granny telling me the truth.  I won't remember who text me...  who painted their world a rainbow on Facebook.  If I'm going to have a story to tell, I have to live. I have to be. Exchange. React. I am passing this book to my thirteen year old daughter.  She says she doesn't like to read, but I am hopeful if there's one ounce of me in her... this book will light an interest. And she will know the feeling of a Saturday tucked in her bed, lost in the world inside that book... The title of this blog is from the book. These are the words a wise, loving maid repeated over and over to a little girl whose mama didn't love her. That little girl called her maid mama. Love knows no color, no bounds. It is timeless. Its right in front of us. Grab it. Savor it. Tell your children they are kind. They are smart. They are important. Show them. And when you're done, curl up inside another book. If I'm lucky, me and my girls will all be curled in our beds, reading timeless stories, inspiring us to write on our own. If not on paper, in our hearts, and the stories we tell those we love.

More Words

I suppose quiet and meditation is to still the mind.  My girlies are on a grand adventure and I am alone in a very cozy quiet house...  while only day one, the quiet and time alone has stilled me.  And given me time to ponder.  I like pondering...  its not like calling a girlfriend in desperation for advice.  I'm not reading any self help books.  Just sitting... and pondering.  Rolling my thoughts around and delightedly at peace with how I Feel about so many things.  Rewind, just a year ago, and I couldn't say that.  Rewind, four years ago, and I couldn't even believe it was possible... to be at peace.  Words are so powerful.  While I am not great at memorizing things, there are certainly words that have stuck with me that have so much meaning.  Maybe not when I first heard them, but having my own experience to apply, finds me able to define so much and put things to rest and bring this peace.  Oprah calls them "Aha" moments.  When you finally get it!  One thing I have finally gotten, is stress.  It can be a monster...  or it can simply be.  Sure, its everywhere. At one point in my life when I was very, very ill, compeletly worn and beaten down with no immune system, I found myself with mono.  I was in bed for six months.  My doctor initially asked, "Whats going on with you?"  He is very holistic, Eastern medicine kind of guy...  I think he had a prescription pad somewhere with an inch of dust on it.  I loved how he treated my "whole" body....from the inside out.  Getting to the root of the problem.  After I told him all that was going on in my life, he was scrambling for that pad, writing me a script for anti anxiety meds.  Wow.  Well, okay.  As much as I don't believe in taking pills, I thought for him to be advocating it, I must really need it.  He said that what I was dealing with, and the period of time I had been doing so, was more than any one person should ever have to handle.  I was thankful at that point he wasn't fitting me for a snug little white jacket with velcro straps.  How did I handle stress then?  I DIDN'T! I was in constant reaction mode, boo hoo, poor me, get me out of here....   and it won.  It got me.  It dried up my milk.  The mono attacked my liver, I dropped to 96 pounds and I saw the light.  My grandmother, smelling of Tea Rose, came in a white light.  I took a step toward her and stopped, hearing a baby cry.  My babies still need me.  I rolled out of bed and had my mother in law drive me to the hospital.  I was yellow.  My organs were shutting down. Somehow, with the help of a naturopath and 27 different supplements I was able to care for my children again.  Then I found Herbalife.  I lost 26 pounds.  I got out of an unhealthy situation, and lost another 160 pounds without dieting (ha, ha, that's how much my ex husband weighs...get it?!!)  And, the journey began.  And guess what?  It was full of stress!  BUT,  I wasn't going to let it get me.  No way. I left to give myself the gift of life and my daughters back their mother.  If what we endured and survived didn't get  us, well, pardon my French, get the hell out of the way cause' we're not stopping here. Just ponderin'!!!

More Words

I've had quite a few conversations over the past few days.  Some of them are like chocolate on my tongue.  Sweet...  leaving me wanting more.  A shared language, an appreciation for expression of our journey.  Tonight, I listened to a politician.  One, let's say, I never voted for.  He was more than the lesser of two evils.  Every sentence was prefaced with, "As I'm sure you're aware," "I know you realize," "You must know...", "And surely you can recognize," "I don't need to tell you what this means,"....  I'm surprised he fit through the meeting door with such a large head! I literally wanted to shower after being subjected to listening to him for an hour.  I wanted to scream, "Guess what?  I DO KNOW AND I DON'T THINK THAT!"  I don't normally get rattled where politics are concerned.  I can appreciate how one came to their belief system and in most instances, see how it serves them.  I guess being up close and personal like that tonight, not by choice, just was more than a taste.  I much prefer my chocolate conversation.  Which I hope to have many more...  I have so many little things I remember that help keep my focused....keep my perspective positive...keep me grounded so I can be.  I don't want to re-act... I think when we re-act we are simply going on off old, often unhealthy patterns.  So my little voice kicks in...  I can say... hmmm.. what if?  What if everything I thought isn't really so?  What if I decide I'm okay?  That phrase replays quite a bit for me lately.  No matter what insanity someone else chooses to engage in...I'm okay!  They're two simple words that my nine year old daughter's counselor repeats often. I get so much out of her sessions as I sit and listen...  I'm reminded of the Seinfeld episode where George decides to do the opposite of what he would normally do...  too funny.  I don't know if its the opposite, but surely I am challenging myself to be open to the what ifs.   I like that.  The unknown isn't scary.  Because I'm strong.  I've been through hell and I'm not stopping here.  Please, move out of the way.  Yes, powerful words.  I could have fully engaged in a very powerful conversation with that politician if I weren't "on duty"...  geez, small towns are no fun sometimes.  But, perhaps if it just fits the category of entertainment I can tolerate the next meeting.  Funny, how people think throwing money around means something.  I know exactly what they're searching for...  my chocolate conversation.  Words that do envelope you in a soft blanket, keep you warm, and build a relationship.

Running Theme

Do you ever notice a running theme in your life?  I liken it to being hit over the head with a brick.  Obviously, the signs have been there for a while, but apparently I don't see them so what works with me are large, heavy bricks, red flags....  well, let's hope not.  I have learned a few lessons that way, which in turn taught me a lesson in it's own.  Pay attention.  If you are what you eat and you are what you surround yourself with, well, there shouldn't be any surprises.  Somewhat true, but life has a way of Changing...coming at you, and you must be paying attention.  So my running theme for the moment has to do with me...  and how I do what I do.  Someone just asked me this a few days ago.  I've been asked this question before, "How do you do it? How do you do what you do?"  (This is encompassing raising two girls alone, work full time and then some and the financial, emotional and spiritual demands this requires.)  My short answer is, "I don't ask."  I really don't sit down and give it too much thought. If I did I might potentially get scared and run away! I often berate myself for berating myself.  We are by nature our own worst critic, perhaps, those of us blessed with a moral compass and concious.  So I pay attention to what I do.  How I conduct myself, what I put out, what I put in my relationships, and what I give to Me.  I learned that one being hit by a cement truck.  I have to come first, or there's nothin' for nobody...  So, yeah, that's how I do it.  Part auto pilot, get it done, trudge ahead, sometimes giving myself a good kick in the ass, and paying attention to my needs and making sure what I pour out is refueled.  Wow.  My running theme has a sidebar of "being in the now".  This, while something I can say I thought about for a long time, is something I am practicing.  I spent a very long marriage waiting, wishing and hoping...  living with a sociopath, every day was brand new.  Each morning the slate was wiped clean and all the promises were brand new.  The apologies,well, they didn't go far after long.  I knew that much like a battered wife hurts more each time, simply because she knows it will happen again, that if he were truly sorry...well, it wouldn't.  So the little nuggets of hope I held onto got buried in bitterness and resentment.  And then Jo Ann got buried in layers of broken promises, dreams and lost herself.  I got sick.  Very physically sick, to the point I somehow pulled myself up and out.  I knew changing one action, would lead to the next and that somehow doing something different, would bring me something different.  And, oh, did it!  Its a story that is still being penned...  and I'm not waiting, wishing or hoping.  I am LIVING.  I won't apologize for feeling, the good or the bad.  Each moment, my now, is to be savored.  One lesson I learned earlier, before I realized how important now is...  is that in life, there is no balance.  There are only choices.  While donning my Supermom outfit each morning, I was setting myself up to berate myself.  Shoulda, coulda, woulda.  How about DID, DONE. NEXT?  We cannot do all or be all, but what if we give it our best?  You do the best you can, at that moment (the now) with the information you have.  And the result, you are present.  Your children have You. So I am over pleasing everyone else, flitting about in my "S" cape, trying to conquer the world.  My now, tonight, is to simply conquer a sinkful of dishes, and play with my children.  That is by choice.  My choice.  My choice that I won't worry about balancing my checkbook, sweeping the porch, or all the other things that will get done, when I choose to do them.  My now is here. And the running theme is that I do it with love and hopefully I am paying attention and there are no falling bricks, no cement trucks, and I am learning, growing, and present in these new chapters unfolding in my life.

Rain

Ahhh....  waking to the sound of rolling thunder, so strong, that from the cozy warmth of the covers, you can smell the fresh rain washing the earth. Waking to puddles, happy plants and a sense of hope.  All this from just over an inch of precious rain.  Everyone I met today had a spring in their step. Something good in the news to talk about! I am hopeful for a repeat storm tonight as the conditions are favorable for the evening heat to yield to the clouds doing their thing. The last lightning storm we had Anni told me, "God is taking pictures."  What a sweet observation.  She saw the flash in the sky....  Some of my happiest childhood memories involve rain.  I remember my mom Always had a box of Betty Crocker brownie mix hidden for rainy days.  My sisters and I all share an affinty for brownies.  We all like them with a light dusting of powdered sugar.  I remember the time it rained so hard the gutters filled up and all the neighborhood kids floated homemade boats down the street.  I remember scurrying to get the clothes off the line...  watching the ticker on the TV so I could tell my family if we needed to hide in the bathtub.  I wasn't scared.  I wanted to put my mattress in the bathtub.  That sounded fun!  I remember my dog, Scruffy, retreating to his hiding spot during storms.  Somehow he managed to squeeze himself behind the toilet.  He would shake and shake.  He didn't want to snuggle.  For whatever reason, that was his spot.  I had a tin roof for 13 years.  I remember listening to the storm while baking, nursing, singing to the girls.  I love rain.  The smell, the sound, comfort, and hope it brings to so many living things.

The Heat

Just woke up, before the sun, to enjoy my favorite pre-dawn hour with my coffee and toenail polish.  I normally paint my toes outside, so the smell doesn't linger in the house.  Well, who paint's their toes in a sauna?  Gooey, clumpy, sweaty polish?  So, I'm inside...  blogging while my toes dry.  It is 91 degrees when we go to sleep at nite.  Right now it is 80.  And when I get in my car this afternoon it will be 107.  The girls and I quote movie lines daily, always interjecting them at just the right moment and making each other laugh.  Last night, Anni quoted one of my favorite lines from Snow White.  She said to me, "You must be Grumpy!"  Oh, dear.  Funny, but not...  Quick reality check, yes, I have indeed been grumpy.  And I'm pretty certain of the culprit.  I'm HOT.  Its a bit like I felt when I was pregnant in 1998, which is the last time we experienced these recording breaking high temperatures and extreme drought.  I joked, "You add 20 degrees and 20 pounds and see how you feel!"  Even though we're in a well insulated house, with tile floors that feel pretty cool most of the time, the sun beats down....  baking everything.  My evening walk was dusty.  The little wind devils blowing sand and grit on my legs and occasionally between my teeth.  Sometimes I even get dirt blown in my eyes.  My car is the color of dirt.  My front door, garage doors, patio furniture, covered in dust...  almost like the springtime pollen.  We need the skies to open up and wash it all off!  There is nothing blooming...  The fruit on my fig tree that we would normally be harvesting this time of year, is the size of wasabi peas.  Last year they were big juicy silver dollars.  So many that we had to make jam.  I prayed this morning.  Hard.  I know God is omnipotent, but I asked anyway.  Begged.  On behalf of all the grumpy sweaty mom's out there.  On behalf of the farmers'.  The shrinking lakes.  All of the crazy boaters will be sharing "a" boat ramp this July 4th.  Just add alcohol and a few normally hidden sandbars and there's a recipe for disaster.  Grumpy, yes.  I'm aware.  I'm trying.  I think I found myself panting yesterday, like my dog.  It was not attractive. They say we are spoiled.  Our generation has not experienced a hardship.  Is this it?  Are we all going to slowly dry up?  Die a slow death as we ration water?  I hope not.  The news is absolutely depressing.  There was a 15 minute segment last nite about the 10 percent chance for rain today.  We are all hopeful it will come.  My air conditioner runs and runs and runs and next month I will give the electric company my grocery money, I'm sure.  Well, I am going to take a cold shower.  I resolve to try and curtail my grumpiness.  Aside from the heat, I've got lots to sing and whistle about....  I'd much rather sing with birds on my shoulder than be called Grumpy.  My life is not a Disney movie, but its all relative.

Adventure

Adventure...  its everywhere!  My sweet girls took flight Sunday to the sunny beaches of Coronado Island.  I am keeping up via I phone photos.  Its gorgeous.  I so want my toes in that sand!  So I dream a little dream...  in the meantime, which is Now....  I am defining my time here in the "norm" as an adventure of its own.  I am getting to do things that are quite rare in these parts!  Yes, adventure can be found right in your own backyard, or living room if you choose.  Last night, I did something my dad always liked to do.  I would run up to him while he lounged on the couch and say, "What are you doing?"  He'd say, "Just sittin'...  just sittin' and thinkin'..."  Well, I'm sure most times he did this amongst the noise of my three siblings, myself, and various neighborhood children running in and out.  So, here I find myself in a quiet house...  sittin' and thinkin'...  I like to call it pondering.  I can have a thought and finish it thru!  I like hanging out with myself.  Everyone knows I love loud music.  Last night I enjoyed a bit of quiet and then did an impromptu workout to Avril Lavigne and Amy Winehouse.  They're my angry girls.  I wasn't angry, but let all the stress in my muscles out before a hot bath.  There was no pitter patter of little people feet running in to interrupt my zone with the multitude of "Mommy...." questions.  While I so miss those, I am engaging in adventure of me-time.  Oh, so rare and so awesome. Thank you, Aunt Tina and Uncle Dave for the adventure of a lifetime for the girls, and for me to kick off the summer with a strong, sound mind, ready to take on my annual role of "Entertainer of the Year."  The girls and I will have many adventures this summer, some right here on the rug dancing like loons, some out in nature, but mostly in our hearts, where it counts. I am so thankful for this time to ponder, and very quickly realize my very charmed existence.

Milestones

Another special word to me... milestones.  One of my favorite things as a child was to run from the edge of our back deck All the Way to the back fence....  it was Far!  My daddy was the official time keeper.  As a jeweler, he had the best stopwatches.  On your mark, get set, go! And off I would go.  Much like he would let me win every hand of poker, I'm sure he shaved those seconds off each time making me think I was the fastest little girl there ever was.  When I finally hit that magic number...  he'd say, "Another milestone, Blossom."  Oh, to hear those words from him again.  I think the full circle, the closest I can get to that now...  is to say the very same to my own daughters. Today, as they graduate from 3rd and 6th grades, I will.  I will tell them they have reached another milestone.  There are so many random memories from childhood.  Completely insignificant days, blended in with all the rest, that we remember.  I remember "sheet day"...  my mom would strip all the beds, wash all the sheets, and then hang them to dry.  I was in charge of handing her clothespins. I felt very important because without my help the clean sheets would touch the ground and get dirty.  This way, she got to do it faster, which meant I got to run through them...hiding...  smelling the wonderful clean smell of Cheer and sunshine.  No milestone...but what a memory.  The milestones are all there...  the first time I was tall enough to open the freezer!  Big deal for me : )  My first time to sell Girl Scout cookies.  Trying out for cheerleader...  getting my ears pierced on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood.  Somehow, each adventure was cemented by those simple words from my daddy.  He was present. He was proud. I was growing, changing, Blossoming....  and I knew one hundred percent I was loved.  My daughter's milestones are a special time for me to pull us out of the chaos.  If you asked them, now, they would surely have their own list.  Anni, diving off the diving board like a future Olympian.  Lexi, writing jokes like she's at the Improv....  their gifts, their talents, their triumphs, cemented.  It is timeless, this connection between parents and their children. We cheer and celebrate and cry.  We photograph.  Times have changed a bit.  I have taught my girls what a milestone truly means.  Its something they earned, achieved...  Not something they acquired.  Getting your first Ipod is Not a milestone.  They know this.  As a single parent, one of the hardest things for me has been attending school functions.  Whether it is the class musical, choir, play, or meet the teacher night...  I find myself feeling so alone.  There's no one to save a seat for...  I try for tunnel vision to find my daughter on the stage and ignore the rest of the perfectly paired audience.  I cry because I have only two hands and have to choose between taking still shots or a video.  So this last year of milestones for my girls... Lexi's first theatre performance, Anni's play...  I had my own milestone.  I left the camera at home.  I left the video camera at home. I left the Kleenex at home.  I put on my highest heels.  I sat in the front row for all to see and I celebrated, cheered, and cried joyfully. I can replay their sweet faces and angelic voices over and over because I was present.  I was fully immersed in their milestones.  I love sharing this tradition with them.  Its a timeout.  We slow down and we appreciate the journey.  I am so proud of their resilient little souls that have trudged ahead to brand new schools, new friends, new teachers and are graduating bright and shiny. They will have a milestone in a few days on their first airplane ride! I won't be there, but they have cards to open on the plane.  I am sending a love note, some spending money, and telling them, "Look out the window, girls, you've reached another milestone."  And they will beam and they will remember in their hearts forever.

Counting Our Blessings

My friends, one in particular....  laugh at me because I am so organized and actually enjoy all that entails.  This particular friend I mention is hard wired in a completely different way, which I fully appreciate and return in jest ten fold.  Perhaps its funny that I love making lists.  I love the smell of the school supply aisle! I love sharpening pencils, finding a great pen and don't get me started about highlighters.  That's the best part! Marking through the stuff on my lists.  My friend thinks the time I spend making lists could be spent actually completing something on the list.  But, she doesn't rise at 5:00 a.m.  What a productive time of day! I sit with my favorite coffee mug, and jot down my goals for the day.  They are much more attainable sorted on college ruled paper by priority.  There are many lists.  The typical to do's...  most requiring my chauffer skills, getting us to our appointed places for the day... school, work, sports, etc.  The sidebar including things not to be forgotten, money for a gazillion things at school, permission slips, props for theatre class presentation, papers for this and that, and the list goes on.  I have a list of things to buy.  This includes necessities and things I simply Want.  Funny, how writing what I want will most often find those items getting scratched off the list without purchasing them.  It gives me time to think through my purchases...  how badly do I want it?  Do I actually need it?  Where will I put it?  When will I use it?  What would we go without if I indulge?  I have a list of songs I need to buy.  Yes, I said NEED.  Music is simply necessary, period.  I have a list of places I'd like to go, books I want to read, people I need to write.  I have a list of goals.  I read it often and many times find I am incorporating a postive new choice or habit and its off the list and part of my lifestyle.  I have one really great list....  100 things I want in my partner.  Its not to 100 yet.  I learn things and they end up there.  All of these things are also things I aspire to be myself.  My latest list inspired this post.  I found myself on a perfectly beautiful day, nothing particularly wrong... in a puddle on the floor crying my eyes out.  No, you weren't invited.  Pity parties are for one...  Boo hoo.  I appreciate a good cry, however, I picked myself up and thought, "Get over yourself! You are Blessed."  And I set to making a list.  Sure, we all know the things we are blessed with, the short list of things we daily take for granted.  Our health, families, friends, cars that run, paychecks, functioning body parts... We are thankful for them, but probably don't list them in our prayers as often as we should.  So that's a good place to start to get the tears to stop.  But what if I kept going?  What are all the things in my life that are right?  How many times would I have to sharpen my pencil if I really got serious and wrote down my blessings?  So, without listing them here, I can tell you it is a long list.  It is a list that will continue to grow.  I became so enlightened and lifted that I found myself putting things on the list that I had actually cried about and cursed being in my life.  You know all the things you ask, "Why? Why me? Why now?"  Things that made me sad.  But what if a particular loss is indeed a blessing?  Hmmm....  What if everything that has happened to me was on this one list?  A list of blessings.  Blessed through and through that each moment, tear, laugh, brought me to right now...  I do think the time spent writing these lists is well spent and I shall awake tomorrow, to sit and highlight, make stars, hearts, flowers, underlines and set about my day full of to dos, to "don'ts", and realize the things on each list can all be titled, "Blessings."

The Power of Words

Words...  perhaps they are born as thoughts.  Yes, all those things in our heads and hearts and tummies rolling around...  that's how I landed here.  A place for my thoughts to claim a space of their own.  Maybe someone will read them, but mostly it is a holding tank of sorts.  A place where I can hear my words aloud as I read those thoughts that have tumbled out. Maybe they are thoughts one should keep...  perhaps worthy of sharing.  But certainly, I have learned, you cannot reclaim the spoken word. Funny, the things we remember, spoken to us as children. A universal "mom" language.  I know my mother told me, "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all."  I now have the thought "I am turning into my mother!" when I have said these very same words to my daughters.  Of course, in a perfect world, we would honor that silence is golden, by biting our tongues.  So many cliche' sayings, but words that yield Power.  I recently watched old videos of me and the girls back in our stay-home-in-our-pjs-all-day-if-we-want-to-days...  throughout most of the videos I am rambling on...  I learned early in my life about death.  When someone close to you leaves this world, they take their knowledge and their stories with them.  Days pass, but your arm reaches for the phone, or your feet patter to their favorite spot on the couch because you want to tell them, "Guess what happened?" or "I love you."  You save the recording on the answering machine because you want to hear their voice.  Our words are our relationships.  The bridge of connection.  So those days of sitting on the floor stacking blocks, dancing, crawling, loving on my girls, I told them everything.  I told him the names of all the people who love them.  Who they were and where and how they loved them.  Gram, from letters and packages from Wisconsin.  My Dad, from Heaven.  Yes, Grandpa Joe loves you through the raindrops on our tin roof.  His favorite sound.  Now they love it, too.  I told them about God. I told them how old they were when they crawled, when they got their first tooth, their first word, their favorite foods, their favorite bed time stories, but mostly I cooed I love you.  I told them hours passed in their infancy where I simply sat and stared at them. Their cherub faces.  Their tiny toes.  Someday, when my stories and my knowledge are gone, they will have my words for all those questions they want to ask.  When they reach for the phone to say, "Mommy.... "  Words should be a gift. Was it my mother who told me "think before you speak..." I'm not sure, but that's certainly something I remember and try to do in each of my relationships.  So as I release my thoughts and read my words I can think of what matters... sometimes words are unnecessary.  Our eyes are the windows to our soul.  Perhaps words can be conveyed not only by the tongue, but by a simple look.  Oh, yes...  I am guilty of parting my mothers long silky hair to find that extra set of eyes she warned me about as a little girl.  I crawled on top of her thinking she must be a superhero of sorts to have an extra set of eyes.  Because she told me!  "I'm watching you!"  There was, of course, a smile in those words. I felt safe knowing my mom could see all things.  I am all about words and emotion and feelings...  I am not an inanimate object.  I joke that should I ever lose my sight, I could find anything because I am so well trained in digging into my oversized purse to find my lipgloss.  You know, one of several tubes, but I know the one I'm after and exactly what that tube feels like.  I could feel my way around for sure.  I feel everything, but am blessed to have all my senses to do so.  I feel love when I see my daughters smile at me.  I feel love when I pat their backs to sleep at night.  I feel love when I hear their giggles.  I feel love when I smell my grandmother's chicken and dumplings.  (Her secret is throwing them over your shoulder into the pot.  Really. Truly.  Learned when I was four.) I feel love when I taste burnt toast on Mothers Day.  And I celebrate all of this with words...  hopefully, words of wisdom.  Hopefully words that will convey love to those I love.  Hopefully, words that will be here long after I am not....  and my girls will carry on.  They will lovingly tease their own children about that extra set of eyes...  they will pray, "Dear God, let my children hear me. I know they are listening. I know they will make good choices because of all I have told them."  Powerful stuff.  Powerful words.  The threads that weave us together. The love my dad filled me with can live on to his great grand children through a bedtime story about raindrops on a tin roof....  years from now.  Words.