Good Day

So as all days end, I kissed my boys good night and tucked them in. All's well that ends well, right? Just another day.

And then I proceeded to tuck myself in. Quit judging me, Judgy McJudgerson! Yeah, I "tuck myself in"! What's ths issue?

So, as I was saying, I tucked myself in and had a thought. "Today was a really good day."

Huh?

TODAY WAS A REALLY GOOD DAY!! How's that?

I was a tad bit perplexed at my own thought. What exactly was it about today that was so damned special, you ask? (I couldn't help but ask myself the same question. Again, don't judge.)

Well. Allow me to recap.

1. I woke up. This always makes for a good day.

2. I got to sleep in a little. My boys had a late morning dentist appointment. So. We slept in. Bite me, haters.

3. My boys had dentist appointments. Forgive me a little, but, honestly, when you're  a parent, nothing quite drives the "brush your teeth" argument home like having a cavity filled. Albeit a short lived point. But, a good point, nonetheless.

4. I got to post funny pictures of my kids at the dentist on Facebook. I mean, come on. This is good stuff, people.

5. My kids got to go to school late. As I recall, this always made for a five star day when I was a kid. And, I'm quite certain it was for my boys as well. Don't tell him I saw this, but, #1 actually skipped when he headed to the front door of his school. God love him.

6. In the 2 hour's time that my boys were at school I was able to get groceries at Aldi's, get stuff I couldn't get at Aldi's at IckyMart, make 4 necklaces, start a pot of chili, and sneak in a 10 minute cat nap. It was nothing short of glorious.

7. Took my boys to see my dad. This is always a treat. At 89 he is always full of business. Today was no exception. I think my boys may bring out the cantankerous side in him.

8. Got home, doctored chili, invited friend and child over for dinner and counted the minutes until the appropriate time for a glass of wine.

9. Had a pleasantly palated and fabulously scheduled evening of events for friend and child. Ok, fine. We had a really nice dinner. Yes, chili and wine for the "grown ups" and chicken and french fries for the children. You only wish you could have been here!!

10. Went to bed and realized that I had a really good day.

So, here's the kicker: it really is that simple. I just had a really good day. For no real reason other than it was. How nice?

And, how lucky am I?

The Sweetest Thing

Today I pose this question, if a child yells "Mom?!" repeatedly in a forest, will a mom answer?

Okay, well the knee jerk response will probably be, "Why is this child in a forest? That seems rather dangerous. And sad. Is he lost? Where is his mother?"

Fine. So, hypothetically, if a child were in a very safe and well lit forest and had a cell phone on him but instead of using it he chose to yell "Mom?!" repeatedly, would a mom answer?

Odds are, yes. Somewhere within a 1 mile radius of said child are approximately 10 mothers awaiting to spat a blind response of "Yeah?"

Every mother has at one time or another been in some public venue, distracted by her surroundings, and answered the beacon of some random child.

"Mom?!"

"Yeah? Oh, sorry. Wrong mom."

When our children are babies we mothers wait in bated breath for that precious moment when they gurgle out their very first "mama". Never has anything sweeter ever been said. It melts us to our very core.

Strangely, though, 9 times out of 10, their first word isn't "mama". God help us, it is typically "dada". Why, yes. Why shouldn't their first word be "dada"? I mean after all, their father was the one who carried them in their womb and developed every little organ, tissue, fiber, hair, nail, soul for the better part of one year. Yes, the daddy IS the one who's skin was stretched beyond repair out of pure love for his offspring. And, daddy WAS the one who sprang their pride and joy from their very loins. Of COURSE our baby's first word should be "dada".

Maybe it's easier to say. Mama. Dada. Mama. Dada.

Nope. Don't think so.

Well, be that as it may, I suppose we mommies should be careful what we wish for. Because once our sweet little boogers have fully captured the essence of cooing out "mama" and watching as our hearts melt a little more each time they say it, they never stop saying it. EVER.

Take tonight, for instance. From the moment I picked my children up from child care until their angelic little backsides hit their mattresses, I'm guessing the "mom" count somewhere in the arena of 5000. Give or take a few.

It's freaking exhausting.

But, as moms do, we learn avoidance techniques. Or, something you men may better understand, selective deafness. Oh, yeah, we're on to you.

So, back to tonight in mother-of-the-year-land, once my darlings were fed and settled in (or so I thought), I opted for a little me time. I plugged my head phones into my iPad, cozied into the couch and logged onto Pinterest. Life was good. For possibly 4 minutes, or less. I'm not certain.

Kelly Clarkson was yelling at me about being stronger when all the while child #1 and #2 had been jockeying for my attention from the floor of their bedroom.

"Mom!!  MOM!"

"MMOOOOOMMMMM!"

To no avail. I was in my happy place. Don't judge me.

Next I know, #1 is limping into the living room holding the back of his head. And, in a much more dramatic performance, #2 scooches in on the floor dragging what appears to be a dead limb behind him. (It was very much alive, I assure you.)

Apparently I had missed a modern day throw down the likes that "Wrestling at the Chase" had never seen in the mere 4 (or whatever) minutes I had been out of touch.

It would appear that perhaps I had become too adept at my selective deafness.

"Mom! Why didn't you answer me? Mom! Mom! He pushed my head into the dresser. Mom, it hurts so bad! Is it bleeding? I feel a little sick. Is there blood? Mom?"

Nope. No blood. Lil' bit of a bump. Awesome. Now for #2.

"Mmoooaaaaammmmyyyyy. Aaa ah haaa. He eeee hurt me! Mom I hate him so much!"

"No you don't."

"Mommy, moooommmy! He broked my leg! Look mom it's broke!!"

"No it's not. You're standing on it."

"Oh."

"Why didn't you answer us? We were both yelling for you and you didn't answer!"

Two things come to mind, DCFS and that cute outfit I didn't get to pin because I was interrupted.

"Listen. Here's the thing, mom couldn't hear you because I had my headphones on." Great, now I'm  referring to myself as mom. "And, quite frankly, you were both supposed to be in bed." Yeah....so who's really at fault here, huh?

"Come on guys. Back to bed. It's been a long one. Can you please just ease up on the yelling of 'Mom'? Please?"

Once we have all finally settled in I hear #2 yell from his bed, "Julie? I need to go to the bathroom!"

I shit you not.

Ton of Bricks

A ton of bricks.

Tonight I was curious. How much does that actually weigh?

 Oh. Duh. A ton.

Admittedly, I am no math genius. But, tonight, I felt that exact weight collapse on me. Out the hell of no where.

I had actually had a rather lovely evening. Had a very successful jewelry show at a friends house. Spent some good quality time with some rather awesome gals. All in all, a good night.

Cut to me tucking my boys into bed. Prayer time. The slight few imbibations I had in me directed my thought process to thinking that this was the perfect night to begin teaching my boys the Lord's Prayer. As always, I was a tad slow at considering the end result of my choices.

May have had something to do with the imbibing.

Nonetheless...

Prayer time was relatively successful. Though #2 found it lengthy and "hard to say".

So, then a thought occurred to me. My mother loved the version of the Lord's Prayer sung by Barbra Streisand. I think I'll download it.

What a fantastic idea. Yes!! You should do that....... you simple foolish fool.

Cut to me. On the bathroom floor. Yet again. Silly sobbing blubbering idiot mess. What the?????

Oh yeah. Big. Ugly. Cry. In it's purest form. Snot bubbles and all. Sooooo attractive. I could almost hear my mother talking to me. "Julia Yates! Pull yourself together. You're acting ridiculous."

But, what I know is this: "this" does creep up on you. And slam you on to the bathroom floor. Like a freaking ton of bricks.

I'll never stop missing her. And I don't want to.

She would have been so excited for me because of my good night. She was my biggest fan.

She was there. But, I just can't help but wish she were still here. Selfish girl that I am.

Ah well. There you have it. As you know I do like to share. I guess my point tonight is this: be happy and be grateful. And, if you feel the need to have a Big Ugly Cry, by all means, do it in your bathroom, because, really, NO ONE needs to see that business!

And, please, watch out for those damned bricks. They're a bitch.

Like Coffee for Elephants

Sigh.

I think it may be happening again. No. No no no. I KNOW it's happening again.

Somehow each and every time I find myself teetering over this precarious ledge I can't help but be amazed at how easy it is to let go and allow yourself to fall down that slippery slope of this crazy little thing called love.

Yes. Love. Amore. Adoration.

I said it.

Crazy, right?

But, it is only too true.

It has taken me 43 years to finally succumb to what I feel is a deep, unbridled and passionate love. I become absolutely intoxicated at the mere mention of my loved ones name. And I practically unravel when I am in the presence of my loves aroma. It is like a passage to ecstasy. A high off of which I do not wish to come.

I can no longer deny it. I want to shout it from the top of the Farmers State Bank and Trust Co. building!

I AM IN LOVE!!  WITH COFFEE!!!!

Yeah....coffee. What the hell did you think I was talking about?

Maybe it's the time of year that makes its appeal that much more tantalizing. Not sure. Don't really care.

All I know is that I go to bed most nights almost twitterpated at the thought of the tall and dark roast awesomeness that awaits me in the morning. Sad, but true.

And, thanks to the Kuerig coffee maker my sister gave me for my birthday I only have to wait a scant 3 minutes for that first cup in the morning.

Yes. My palette has conceded to my sense of smell. I can at last tote around the coveted coffee cup without shame.

Now, I do not mean to offend any tea drinkers out there. It's just that I, for one, am proud to finally classify myself amongst the ranks of true coffee drinkers. For a little back story you may want to refer to my Novemer 4, 2011 blog, "Coffee Wars". Or if you don't want to, that's cool.

So, about once a week, after I have dropped my boys off at school, I carve out a 45 minute window before I head to the Y in which I indulge in a little quality time with the object of my affection. I'll sip on a cup of Starbuck's Pike Place Roast with a dribble of fat free hazelnut creamer, scroll through Pinterest and listen to George, Robin, Sam, Josh and Lara chatting in the background. It is pure Heaven. And, it never lasts quite long enough.

But, it is the little things that make love so great, right?

So, there. I outed myself. I am an official card carrying and cup toting member of the Coffee Lovers Club. CLC. It's real. I swear.

You'll have to excuse me now. I have to find a way to get my hands on some Starbuck's Christmas Blend Expresso Roast. I mean, SHUT UP!!

The Fall

The Fall. I adore it. It is by far my favorite time of year. Everything is so beautiful....the colors, the sky, the smell of the air.

Tonight I had found a nice cozy spot under a blanket on my couch. I was snuggled up listening to the rain with every intention of sneaking in a cat nap when son # 2 presented me with a book. He is quite eager to fulfill his Book It chart as the end result is a reward of his very own Personal Pan Pizza from Pizza Hut. Who was I to deny him of such a prize?

Sigh.

"Okay, bud. Lets read."

The book was The Fall of Freddie the Leaf. I had forgotten about it. I remembered digging it out this time last year to share with both of my boys. My mother had given it to me when I was 11 to help me understand the loss of someone who was very close to our family. And, this was the very same reason I brought it out last year. I had hoped it would help my boys understand why they were losing their Ninny.

It is a sweet book. The story simply follows the life cycle of Freddie the leaf and emphasizes the importance of a life purpose. In the end, Freddie is comforted by the fact that his life had great purpose and that he had nothing to fear in death.

It did not take long before I was a sobbing mess. Not quite a big ugly cry, but, it was borderline. It absolutely hit me like a ton of bricks. But, I was resolved to finish reading the book. I think #2 was a tad bit freaked. His little eyes were transfixed on me, as if he could vex me to stop crying. Poor little guy. Nothing terrifies the male species more than a crying woman.

#1 was alarmed enough that he managed to drag himself away from the Xbox to see what the situation was.

Next thing I knew, I had a child on each side of me. #1 had his head on my shoulder and #2 was rubbing my back. They both listened intently as I sobbed my way through the book.

When I had finished, #1 said, "Please don't be sad, mom."

It was one of the sweetest moments of my life. In the midst of crazy schedules, hectic days and nights that are too short, we found time together to remember my beautiful mother.

I miss her so much. I will always will.

And, then life returned to status quo. The boys were back to arguing over video games and I was again determined to embrace  couch time.

Yes, I really do love the Fall. I love everything about it.

I am particularly grateful for this Fall day.

Happy Place

Most all fairy tales start with "Once upon a time..." and end with, "And they lived happily ever after." Well, good for them.

I'm not knocking fairy tales. I do believe in them. Well, some of them. I mean, I am a girl after all.  It's kind of an unspoken rule that I should feel compelled to believe in them if not live in one. And, for that matter I'm not saying that I don't live in one. It's just that modern day fairy tales are slightly different than those of folklore.

I live with two very handsome and very young, I might add, princes. How much luckier can one gal get?

They are my happy place.

I think we all get so caught up in the rigmarole and stress and even sadness of every day life that we forget to stop and remind ourselves of what our happy place is. We all have one, or two or a thousand, if you're so lucky.

I'm not really even speaking of a physical place. I believe our happy place is where we  mentally reside and are at peace. And, no, you didn't just mistakenly land on some new age happiness guru's blog. It's me, your normally cantankerous, bitchy and typically agitated blogger.

I don't want to alarm you, but, for the moment anyways, I am happy.

Seriously.

It's not any one thing or one person. It's just me, finally recognizing that I've actually been in my happy place for quite some time now. I was just forgetting to open my eyes. And, I'll let you in on a little secret: it feels really nice. To be happy. Crazy, right?

It's actually more of a contentedness. I have finally accepted the fact that I am in charge of me. No one is going to step in and "save me", because, I don't need saving. No white horse. No knight. And that's okay. I got this.

Now, I do not foolishly expect to permanently reside here in Happyville. But, as long aus I'm here I figure I may as well blather on about it. Lucky for you.

I've spent way too much time outside of my happy place. We all have at one time or another. I wish there was some sort of top secret set of instructions on how to find your happy place to share with anyone you know who may need a little help. But, the bottom line really is that the only person who can get you there is you.

So, for now, I'll enjoy my newly found residence in my own little fairy tale.

Once upon a time there was a young-ish and alarmingly stylish girl who lived with two very dashing young princes. She was surrounded by wonderful family and friends. Every day she got to play with shoes and every night she got to play with jewelry. She even found the occasion for naughtiness and debocharie. She and the princes were very happy in their cute little rental castle. Life was good. No big bad wolves. No evil witches.
And she lived happily ever after.
Well, for now anyways.

It's Complicated

Let me just start by saying this: the situation here in Singlemomville is, well...it's complicated.

I'm half-ass tempted to change my relationship status on Facebook to "it's complicated".  If only there were an option for "whatever", now THAT would be a tad more apropos.

Yes, it's a complicated, confusing, boring, exciting, barren and exhausting place to be. Care to join me? No. You really don't.

Fortunately for me I do have company. Well, that's actually a blessing and a curse. I consider it fortunate in that I have girlfriends in the same situation with whom to share experiences, advice and even child care.

The unfortunate part of it is that we also have to share the same pool of the usual dating suspects. The possibilty of finding a suitor who hasn't either flirted with, been set up with, asked out, dated or slept with one of your friends or family members is slim to none.

Sigh.

So, I'm kind of starting to think that it may be time to retire my jersey. For a while, anyways. I never really have been a huge fan of the single scene. I'm more of a mate-for-life type gal. Yes, I've been sooo successful at that so far.

Perhaps I just need to hone my skills at being a contented single gal for life.  Certain sets may refer to such a being as a "spinster".  I prefer option "a", thank you very much.

Honestly, I have come to appreciate my space.  Well, the space I share with two rapidly growing and space hogging boys. But, it's mine, nonetheless.

But, sometimes....sometimes you just kind of want that someone with whom you can curl up on the couch. If only it didn't eventually have to turn into something, well....again....complicated. 

I mean, wouldn't it be nice to have a someone who would cuddle with you when you wanted to, or go out to eat with from time to time or just flirt with you every now and then? I mean, there is such a thing as a fu....okay, I'll stop myself here, I understand that my frequent use of the f-bomb may offend some of you, so I will refrain.....there is such a thing as a "shag buddy" (how's that?). Why not have a "cuddle buddy", or a "dinner buddy", or even a "make out buddy"?

Oh, I don't know.  I suppose that could get even more complicated....all those men, each with a different role. Imagine dinner buddy's confusion when he shows up for your bi-weekly night out and you're in your yoga pants and tank top patting his spot on the couch.

If only it were that simple, right? Honestly, there's really no such thing as a simple shag, or even a simple cuddle for that matter.

So, that puts us back to square 1. Roll all of these fellas into one man and what do you get? A boyfriend. And, where do you get him? Fuck if I know. Oops. That one slid out.

So, for now, "it's complicated" gives way to "whatever" in Singlemomville.  For this gal, anyways. And, truly, there's not a darn thing wrong with that.

I recently pinned a quote from the book He's Just Not That Into You : "...and maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future.  Maybe the happy ending is just moving on."

I like it. Kind of makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Nothing too complicated about that at all, wouldn't you agree?