kids

Unexpected Hope from the Littlest Lovebug

We are having unexpected January temperatures in the beginning of December and my mood is that much poorer for it. We have barely made it above freezing for the past 10 days and we are expected to hit a balmy 5 degrees on Sunday. I could feel myself slipping when I started replacing my water for hot cocoa and my daily workout with doomscrolling in my recliner. I hung on to happy-go-lucky D!  with my fingernails, as if I were scratching out the demons’ eyes who were ready to overtake me with one skipped breath, one exaggerated sigh too many.  And then like they did when they announced their presence on the ultrasound 17 years ago, Ez gave me hope.

Our car rides can range from dead silence, as they lose themselves in their headphones and Spotify, to full on philosophical discussions that are only halted by my pulling into the driveway. The other day, they were feeling philosophical. 

“If you were a mouse and you could only eat three cheeses for the rest of your life (keeping in mind a mouse’s life is only 4-5 years) what three cheeses would you choose?” It took me a minute, but I finally chose Camembert, honey goat Gouda, and Muenster for everyday snacking. They responded with Colby jack for every day snacking, pepper jack for when they were feeling spicy, and Bella vitano for the fancier times. We agreed that I have a wider breadth of cheese knowledge than they do, but they classed it up with the Bella vitano choice. 

We then talked about making positive changes in our lives, with Ez taking steps to get healthier through exercise and more water, fruits, and veggies. Once they started talking they opened up about how they are feeling better, losing weight, and feeling the mental benefits of regular exercise. I knew they were right and that’s half the reason I started to tumble into the weeds of depression that ensnare me in winter. I eat just fine, with The Mayor carefully curating a meal plan that is both healthy and delicious. But exercise is my bugaboo. I had finally found something that seemed to work for me, lifting weights and doing my walking and step ups every other day through autumn, but since The Mayor quit his job before Thanksgiving, I bumped and rolled right off that wagon and into the mud of “I just don’t feel like it.” 

But something about seeing Ez get excited about their walks around the lake and packing their lunch for work instead of the regular Crunch Wrap Supreme on the way home gave me the spark of hope that I needed. I made it a point that afternoon to do my step ups and lift my weights that had been untouched for 10 days. Feeling the natural high of my blood pumping through my arteries and my synapses firing on all cylinders, I vowed to get some form of exercise every day, even if it’s a simple walk around Meijer or Fresh Market. It is so easy for me to slowly descend into slothfulness and inactivity with my commute literally being 22 steps from the bedroom to the recliner, but I legitimately feel better if I give myself that endorphin rush. 

From the moment I knew they were growing inside my belly, Ez has been a source of hope for me. I remember half-joking during my baby shower that I hoped they weren’t a dud, since I had already been blessed with two kiddos who were perfect in their own unique snowflake kind of way. Ez has been anything but a dud. They continue to inspire me with their words and art, and they give me hope that I can pull myself up when I see them making positive choices that will affect their future. I don’t think there is anything more you can ask from a 17 year old on the cusp of adulthood.

I love you all, some more than others.💜🌻

I Write Therefore I Am

It’s winter time, which means I have plenty of dark days to ponder such somber thoughts as what kind of legacy I will leave behind when my time comes to become stardust in the universe. As I collect past writings and journal entries into a collective published piece, I am reminded of the Latin phrase Verba volant, scripta manent, which translates to “spoken words fly away, written words remain.” I live and die by the pen, so this resonates particularly strongly with me. 

Between Facebook and my blog, I am pretty much an open book. This has enabled me to nurture and develop relationships with people from all walks of my life all over the world, and with some whom I have never met. Just this week, I have been messaged by three different people of varying degrees of familiarity who said they thought of me because of something I had written.

My friend, Nick, from my study abroad year in England, messaged that something came across his feed about people who can make jokes about grammar are the cleverest of the lot and he thought of me. My bff’s mom, Linda, texted that she thought of me because she got an entire bag of “foldy” chips with her dinner and she knew that bag should’ve been mine. And then my own daughter, J, has texted me at the exact same time numerous times, indicating that we are never far from each other’s minds. 

Just the idea that I crossed these friends’ minds and made them smile for a moment fills my love bucket to the brim. I am not one for long conversations, always a better listener than I am contributor, but I can collect my thoughts into an essay with relative ease. I think this has allowed me to be precisely in the moment soaking it all in, and then write about it later. While I hope to make an impact on people in real life connections, the reality of our virtual world is we have so many of those interactions online. We are who we are because of our words, and our written words are even more pertinent and meaningful today. 

It brings me joy and a sense of fulfillment that I can elicit a smile through my actions, but especially my words. My writings are an expression of my love for this journey we are on together, and that Love will remain in others whom I have touched after I am ashes. Hopefully I have plenty of years left to continue to make an impression in others who enter my sphere. At the very least, I will have left a library for my children and future grandchildren so that they will always know I love them. After all, scripta manent, amor manet. 

I love you all, some more than others 💜🌻 

A Present to My Future Self

I am a procrastinator at my very basic core. My friends can attest that I spent my college years doing everything last minute. I even wrote the speech I gave at graduation 2 hours before I was to deliver it, nearly giving my roommate, Karri, a coronary in the meantime. Somehow I never had any natural consequences because it always amazingly got done. 

This habit followed me into adulthood, through my marriage, divorce, raising kids, and finally meeting The Mayor. My procrastination techniques did not sit well with him, as The Mayor lives by a “future you will thank you” philosophy. He is the first to get the worst chores out of the way, rarely putting off til tomorrow what can be done this instant.

Now, although we had vastly different philosophies, he never lectured me to be more responsible. Instead he led by example. It started benignly with Christmas shopping. I grew up shopping and wrapping up until the 24th. The Mayor’s family celebrates on Christmas Eve, so we had to start earlier. Over the years, I have morphed into the one buying gifts months in advance and socking them away. This allows me to spread out the damage and shop the sales. Plus the kids always end up getting more on Christmas morning in the long run. I also never have to worry about stores running out of what I want and can enjoy the holiday season relatively stress free.

The Mayor has infected me with this philosophy in other areas of my life as well. Putting off a phone call? He’ll mute the Spotify and say “get it over with then it won’t be hanging over your head.” And he is always right. The temporary pain is minor compared to the stress of dragging something out.

Yesterday when Ez got into the car, they told me how they wished they weren’t such a procrastinator, as they stayed up past 10 the previous night to finish a presentation. I told them they come by it naturally, but they also have no natural repercussions, because they aced their presentation and the only downside to doing it so late was they were tired and grumpy during school. A boba tea and lunch at Bibibop after school straightened that attitude right up, and I gave them an example of how The Mayor’s philosophy has helped me and might help them.

I told them that earlier that day I was feeling puny and I didn’t feel like working out even though I haven’t worked out since last week. Instead of thinking of excuses I picked up my weights and told myself I was only going to do my bicep curls and then I would be done. Once I finished my reps, I thought “since I have my weights out, I might as well do my shoulder press …” which led to a couple of sets of triceps and finally abs and obliques. What started as me making deals with myself to stop sooner ended up with me saying just one more and a full workout. 

Oftentimes what I say as their mother goes in one ear and out the other, but maybe, just maybe, they will put more credence in The Mayor as the voice of reason. It’s a hard habit to break, and there is something to be said for brilliance under pressure, but I have learned that just getting started is half the battle. Once you write the first few words, make the first few presentation slides, do the first rep, you gain traction and momentum that carries through to a superior result.

 I still fight myself to not put off what should be done now, but I have trained my brain to override those foreboding thoughts by repeating, “Future you will thank you.” I know Ez has to learn that lesson themselves, but I hope as they make their way through the deadlines and projects of life, they will remember our conversation and relieve some stress by starting a bit earlier. Even if it’s one slide at a time. Future Ez will thank them, and that is one of the best presents I could give.

Seven Sentences for Someday: The Snowy Monday Edition

  1. When I am super hungry, I get highly irrational. Adam will ask me how many squares of pizza I want and I respond “Eighteen” and he says, “Hmmm. How about we start with three.” And of course he is always right. I hope we never lose this type of interaction. 
  2. Ez killed their senior pictures. We got proofs and they are outstanding. 
  3. R turned 19. The last year of her teens. I know so many good things are going to happen for her this year and she is going to go into her 20s soaring.
  4. The Mayor and I had early dinner out on Friday at one of our old haunts, Dos Amigos. I was thrilled the waiter checked out my cleavage and smiled, only for me to realize it’s because I had already spilled salsa down my top in the 25 seconds between him dropping off the chips and coming back to take our order. I’m 48 and still hopeless. 😩
  5. Today is our first day of snow. I love how peaceful and quiet it is, but only because I don’t have to be anywhere. 
  6. I accidentally dipped my thumb into a 460 degree water bath that I was pulling out of the oven when I made homemade baguettes. My entire thumb is one big blister now, which makes texting and typing a very surreal experience. 
  7. I finished and submitted my 1% Club application this morning. I don’t know if I could make it to the 100k, but it sure would be fun trying!! For my video I sang a made up song to the tune of Seasons of Love from Rent. Fingers crossed they like me enough to cast me!

I love you all, some more than others. 💜🌻

Harmonizing for my 48th

I woke up today, my 48th birthday, at 7 a.m. on the dot, fully refreshed after a lovely night of sleep. There’s nothing super special about turning 48, other than the mere fact that I have made it around the sun for another year, but The Mayor immediately piled my presents on me before I could even have a sip of coffee as if it was a milestone birthday. I eagerly opened my favorite cheddar and caramel popcorn, some cool new scrunchies, and the cream on top, a brand new Kate Spade wallet/wristlet that The Mayor picked out specially. The man knows me so well, and has keyed into my love language of gifts with an enviable keenness. 

Ez’s birthday flowers and stuffed pumpkin

I did my DuoLingo lesson and made my way into the living room to watch ARC Cincinnati with Bob and Jen while I drank my morning coffee. My phone blew up with texts as my friends from all over checked in to wish me happy birthday as they woke up to the world. I heard from dear friends near and far, got a sweet text from my ex-husband, and a heartwarming text from my oldest daughter, J. I hopped on Facebook and, again, the well wishes continued to roll in. I was feeling the love.

On my way to pick Ez up for school, I said a silent prayer that they would be awake and I wouldn’t have to battle the dogs to go wake them up. When I rolled up to Spinnaker Drive, I saw a text from Ez that they were awake but running a little late. No big deal, I had built in plenty of time. And then The Mayor texted me and said I was featured on ARC with Bob and Jen with one of my answers to their question of the day and Jen called me out specifically. What a birthday treat! 

No incidents to and from school, with a stop at Dunkin for Ez’s breakfast, and I returned home to more texts and Facebook wishes. My BFF and his parents sent me a Jungle Jim’s gift card for some exotic treats from the International Market, showing yet again that they get me. I got to work on my physics account, getting so immersed that I forgot to eat my morning Bobo, my stomach rumbling around 11 a.m. to warn me that I better get something in there pronto, lest my blood sugar plummet and I am stuck with a headache. I gathered my phone and my purse and headed out for our neighborhood specialty market to grab my favorite ham and brie sandwich on a french baguette and to say hello to The Mayor while he was at work.

When I got home, I got a message from my sister informing me that she and my two littlest brothers had all chipped in and got me an All Access subscription to Alan Alda’s Clear+Vivid podcast patreon, proceeds of which go to charity but with a member perk of having Alan record an outgoing voicemail message for members. I was floored, as I had mentioned in passing that I wanted to subscribe once I paid off my final loan next year and had set it as a savings goal. I couldn’t believe that they got it for me early! My name is going to come out of the mouth of Captain Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce and I am going to have that as my voicemail til the day I die! I may never get the opportunity to meet the man, but hearing him say my name counts as fulfilling a lifelong dream, and I could not be more grateful to my siblings.

At 3:30 I picked up Ez from school and they gifted me with flowers from their Flower Farming and Floristry class as well as a stuffed pumpkin from their sewing class. We stopped by Brooklyn Pizza and Pasta to pick up birthday dinner on our way home. Once home, we turned it on Game Show Network, per usual, and played along with the Master Minds until The Mayor got home from work, when I downed my stuffed shells and spinach salad. After dinner, Five Below’s blind bag selection beckoned, and Ez and I headed out the door. They played me the Birthday Sex song by Jeremih and then we played Young, Wild, and Free and sang along with all the naughty bits. Ez stocked up on their favorite blind bags and we headed back to their house to drop them off for the night. They got out of the car, thanked me for dinner and the ride, always respectful and courteous, and wished me happy birthday again.

On my way home from Ez’s, I was cruising down Columbia Road, zipping through the roundabouts, and Dobie Gray’s “Drift Away” came on. I turned it up and sang along, putting some extra sauce on the “Gimme the beat boys and free my soul…” because I was feeling good and sassy. When it got to the lines, “Thanks for the joy that you’ve given me…I want you to know I believe in your song. And rhythm and rhyme and harmony, you’ve helped me along. Makin’ me strong…” I started to tear up at all the people who have gifted me with joy over the years. My friends reaching out not just on my birthday, but throughout the good and bad times over the past three decades of being an adult. My family, my kids, my BFF, The Mayor, every one of them has a song that I believe in, and every one of them has contributed to making me strong. I will continue to believe in my own song and share it through my essays and Seven Sentences for Sundays. I thank every one of you for helping with the harmony, may we continue to make beautiful music for the next 48 years.

I love you all, some more than others. 💜🌻

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Kids Chime In Edition

  1. I broke my New Year’s resolution and missed 2 weeks of SSFS. I am not to be deterred, however, and am picking up where I left off.
  2. The kids have decided to help me with this week’s SSFS, which eases the burden of coming back from a break.
  3. Sometimes a waffle is just a holy pancake—-J, philosophically.
  4. This game is bullcrap!—Ez upon realizing she had Zero pie pieces to my and Jolie’s 5 a piece in Trivial Pursuit Family Edition.
  5. Isn’t Kenya a singer?—Ez, confusing Enya with the Geography question.
  6. Keemstar is weird.—My strange little child R’s contribution to the list.
  7. And we’ll end with another Ez-ism. “Mom–notice anything different about me?” as she presented herself before me after a trip to the bathroom. I scanned for any trace of makeup or perfume and then said, “Give me a hint.” She said, “Nothing is different. I just wanted to trick ya.” So there.

I love you all, some more than others.

16 Reasons to Date a Single Mom Like Me

  1. We’ve got that nurturing thing down. Whether it be to dry a tear or just give a hug for no reason other than to say I love you, that quality is innate in us.
  2. You may not be as cool as Bon Jovi, but we’ll still be your biggest fan. (I take that back—your kids will probably take first prize for a little while, but then we’ll move into first place when puberty hits.)
  3. We don’t need grand romantic gestures. Snap a picture of a cool cloud or a pretty flower and text it to us just to let us know you think of us occasionally. Continue reading →