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?

Shine Your Light

Such great words of wisdom that came from a great, albeit petite, woman. They have been resonating through my brain since I heard them.

Her message was simple yet clear: "Turn your light on. You don't have to be Oprah Winfrey or even me to change the world. All you have to do is treat others with human dignity and kindness. Shine your light! And, when you leave here tonight and someone f#*+$@g pulls out in front of you in traffic, shine your light on them!"

I'm not sure how literally she meant the traffic part, like, turn your brights on the jerk, or what. But, I get it. She was basically talking about the Golden Rule.

And, yes, the "she" to whom I refer would be the one and only Madonna. Surely you didn't expect that I wouldn't wax somewhat poetic about my Madonna experience? 

Let me just say this. It was worth every penny. And then some. My Madonna delivered. Her show, in a nutshell, was nothing short of fanfuckingtastic!

I feel as though Madonna and I are somewhat kindred spirits. Two single moms working hard to provide for our children and doing our best to ensure they live their lives by following that Golden Rule. It's almost a sisterly type bond.

Almost.

Only a few glaring differences between the two of us gals.

Nonetheless, her message came through loud and clear. It's the whole Golden Rule/Karma thing. The one thing that my mother tirelessly tried to get through my brain. "Do unto others", "live your best life", "be kind to people"....that's how you leave your mark.

It's not a new lesson by any stretch, but, the messenger, I suppose, is what has me thinking about it so much. I mean, Madonna told me to shine my light, so now I gotta figure out how exactly I'm going to do that.

Okay, the easy part should be being nice to people. SHOULD be. I, however, have worked in retail for 21 years. I'm a tad tainted. But, okay. Fine. I will do my best. My mother was one of the nicest people in the world. Surely I got some of that?

As for the living my best life part, well, I think most of us can say that that is a constant work in progress. I'm not always sure that I am but I am always at least trying to live my best life. It's like she said, you don't have to be Oprah or Madonna to make a difference. But, if you're living your life with great passion and consideration for how your actions will affect others, then I think you're doing your part for the universe. As I've heard said, what you put out there comes back to you in tenfold. Good and bad. Yes, indeed, Karma is a bitch.

Now, her show wasn't all sentiment and sunshine. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was fairly dark and provocative. But, it was awesome. I left entertained and enlightened.

Who'd have thought?

So, shine your light, people! Or just tell me shut the hell up. Either way, be happy. It's good for you. And the universe.  :)

Storm Warning

Son #1 is and has always been a sizable fellow.  He is also a contradiction of terms...a gentle giant, if you will. The child has the looks and stature of a linebacker and the demeanor of a kitten.  You get my point.

So, it puzzles me how this 5'3", 140 lb., size 10 shoe wearing 10-year-old boy could have a ridiculously weak stomach. It's almost comical. He did not inherit this trait from his mother. I'm not a puker.  This isn't necessarily something I'm proud of, however it makes me very curious as to how I could have a child who is so extremely the opposite case.  If someone within a 10 mile radius of my son vomits, he will also.  I shit you not.

Puke boy also has a few, um, we'll call them, anxiety issues.  Most notable of which is that he is not fond of storms. Of any kind. And, that is putting it very mildly. 

So, how fantastic for me that the back-to-school-let's-all-share-our-germs-after-3-months-hiatus season and hurricane season go hand-in-hand. It is a remarkable time of year in our home. 

Recently my good friend and I took our kids out for dinner to a local restaurant. It had been a stormy day but had subsided so we figured it was safe to go out. You see, my friend is equally as fond of storms as my son is, so, we had to be certain that the barometric pressure was in check and that there was no storm front circling the vicinity....and that we were in a building with a strong foundation and storm shelter, should one be necessary.

Now, allow me a bit of back story. Since it had been a stormy day, I had taken my boys to a movie, where, of course, large amounts of popcorn and candy and soda are consumed. I think it's some sort of rule or law. So, we obliged.

And, then, we felt compelled to cap off the day with a meal of pizza and cheese sticks and french fries....I don't remember thinking that was a bad idea at the time, but, now as I write this in hind sight I find myself a tad horrified.  Bygones.

Then something struck me, #1 was not eating.  And there was food left.  Odd.

"You okay, bud?" I tried to be discreet.

"Yeah", burp..."just a little gas."

How nice.

So, as all good mothers do we then decided to treat ourselves, and our children, to a frozen yogurt desert. Again, seemed like a fine idea. 

We piled into my car, my friend and I in front and 3 kids in the back. And, then, friend's weather alert goes off on her phone.  It may as well have been helter skelter.

"What was that????"  #1 sounded desperate.

"Uh oh!" says friend. "Weather alert!  Oh boy, look at that sky ahead.  Not looking good...."

"Is that a TORNADO????" the child was consumed with panic. My friend realizes this and totally changes her composure. 

"Oh, it's just a warning.  It's fine.  Way far away.  No big deal.  We're gonna get some rain."

But, I could sense the desperation in her tone.  Something wicked was this way coming.

So, we hastened to the yogurt shop, yet another tragic mistake. It was a mere 2 block drive, and, as we turned the corner into the parking lot we heard it.  The unmistakable sound of the launch and landing of vomit.  In the back seat of my car.  Followed almost immediately by the sound of screeching banshees, aka, the two younger boys in the back seat.

"Puke!!!! Oh my god, PUKE!!!!  EWWWWW!!  Grossssss!!" They were literally clamoring on top of one another.  "AAAHHHHH!!!  AHH AHH AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

My friend and I looked at each other, dumb founded.

I bee lined it into a parking space where I and my passengers practically fell out of the car. I darted around the car and commenced clean up detail in hopes of beating the oncoming storm. My apologies, by the way, to the owners of the establishment where I deposited my son's, "anxiety relief", in their parking lot. Desperate times, people.

Meanwhile, my friend is trying fruitlessly to calm down son #2 from his epic meltdown with regards to the abrupt ending to our yogurt shop visit.

"But I want frozen yogurrrrrtttttt!! That's NOT FAIR!!!!"  Seriously? Must have his mother's iron gut.

Somehow she managed to calm him down when I heard, "Mom?  Aren't you going to clean me up?"

Again, mother of the year had been diligently ridding the car of any trace of tonight's eruption that I had neglected to clean my poor child up.  And, he certainly needed it.  Poor guy. 

Yogurt shop visit aborted, car relatively cleaned up, we climbed back in and decided to call it a day as all good adventures must come to an end.

We managed to make it home before the storm hit.  And, hit it did.  A doozy as they say.

Turns out, #1 had not been feeling well for most of the day, but didn't want to have to spoil it for anyone else.  He allowed as how "a kid in my class threw up right in front of me yesterday".  Naturally.  I can't believe he made it a full almost 24 hours before he reciprocated.

I share this little story with you mainly because now I do find the humor in it.  That night, not so much.  But, also, because this is just another day in the life.  One many can relate to.  It's not the end of the world, though it felt like it that night.  So, it's just nice to be able to sit back and put things into perspective and have a good laugh at our own expense.  Though, frankly, Puke boy still doesn't seem to think it's quite so funny.  Some day, maybe?!