Hoops

I know the hoop is 10 feet from the ground to the top of the rim. I know the backboard is 72 inches wide by 42 inches high. I know the diameter of the hoop is 18 inches. I know what it means to be in the paint. I know what box out means. I know what a full court press is.  Why do I know all of this? Because I’ve watched him play this game that he loves so much, a million times over the years. It’s years of watching, learning, praying, wishing and sitting on the sidelines being his biggest fan. It's also years of me playing one on one with him in the driveway. It seems those days are long gone now along with everything else.

 

 

 

 

It struck me today when I dropped the dog off at my estranged husband’s house. I’ve been doing this for months now as we wanted the transition of our separation to be as easy on the 3 of them as possible. And as I got back in my car, I stared at Mattie’s basketball hoop still in the driveway and I wondered if I would ever play with him again? If I would ever have a place to take that hoop where he would be able to play? I wondered if he would ever be under the same roof with me again. Probably not. To date I’ve only been able to find small apartments, nothing conducive for a basketball hoop and although I’ve managed to always have a bedroom for him, he has rarely stayed with me. And today of all days, I felt the pain of all that’s happened in the past few months hit me like a freight train. One in which I didn’t see coming. I sat in my car, staring at his basketball hoop and sobbed. The anxiety crashed over me and I couldn’t stop it. I just sat there, frozen. Numb from the pain.

 

It was my choice to leave my husband. On the surface, that would appear to be the true story. But the reality of it is, he left me years ago and my heart simply couldn't take being in a relationship where I wasn’t valued, where I didn't feel loved or respected. A place where loneliness filled every inch of that house we shared. It became a toxic environment for me and for Mattie. And because I chose to leave, to try and get healthy, to try and gain back whatever sense of myself I could, I lost my son. Or at least that’s how it feels.

 

I am told by my friends who have grown children with children of their own, that everything Mattie is doing is normal and should be expected. He will never need me in the same way again. Hearing that was like a punch to the gut that nearly knocked the wind out of me. I always knew in my heart that we raise our kids to become productive, self-sufficient adults who go out into the world and live their own lives. It’s our job. It’s the natural order of things. But this wasn’t the time. 3 months ago he was living his life, having a girlfriend, working, going to school, going to the gym, but he was also coming home to me, to his bedroom, to his things. He came home for dinner, for sleep, to shoot hoops. He hugged me almost every day. I feel lost without those things and my heart is broken. I know his attitude towards me and his lack of interest in my needs is not intentional and I know he loves and cares for me. I also know it’s not his job to take care of me or be overly concerned about my wellbeing but he always told me “no matter what mom, we will always be the Two Muskateers”. I guess even that has its limits. And maybe it should. Maybe that's the natural order too.

 

Maybe this has very little to do with Mattie and so much more to do with how useless I feel. My whole life was wrapped up in him. Every choice, every decision I ever made in the past 19 years has been for him, because of him. I tried to be the best mom I could be. I’m sure there were times I failed but I always put him first. I always tried. Always. Because I love him that much. And in the blink of an eye, it’s all taken away. My whole identity has been him and although I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I don’t really know who I am without him. Is that fair? No of course not. And that is my cross to bear. Along with every other decision I've made recently.  But I know this too shall pass. All of it, in time.

 

I’ve been through a lot in the past few months. My whole world has been turned upside down and all I wanted was for him to be there. To be present. To let me know that he was still there, still my Mattie. But that was probably asking too much of him. I guess he was going through his own stuff too. Maybe I need to just move on, maybe move to Florida and start over, start living my own life. Find a job, find love, find myself again, find the me that doesn’t need to intertwine my life so much with his. I know I need to find my bliss just like my mom always used to say. Maybe one day, he will need me again. For something. Anything. Maybe one day he will even want to shoot hoops with me again.

Be Kind, Not Green Eyed.

As women, I think it is our responsibility to uplift other women; to empower and encourage each other. I think it’s our obligation to share in each other’s triumphs, each other successes, no matter how big or small. I think it’s our job as women, our duty as sisters in this life to at least lead with a smile or a heartfelt “way to go girl”. Trust me, it won’t kill you to be happy for someone else.  I think women who cannot offer their praise or support to one another are petty, selfish individuals that have truly lost their moral compass.

This is not to say that if my girlfriend told me she won an all-expense paid trip to Hawaii and chose not to bring me, I wouldn’t be jealous. Of course I would be! But would I truly and genuinely be happy for the luck that had befallen her? Absofreakinlutely. Jealousy is part of our everyday lives. It is normal and it is okay to have pangs of the green eyed monster. The type of jealously I am referring to is the deliberate kind. The mean girl kind. Like when you hear of something wonderful happening to someone else or their children and you simply ignore it because that something wonderful didn’t happen to you. To pretend you don’t hear the news or in a more modern twist, to purposely NOT “like” it on Facebook because you can’t stand the thought of something happy or wonderful happening to someone other than you, is petty and quite frankly, outrageous.

I am thrilled to hear of your triumphs, no matter how big or small. My happiness for you is the same whether it’s a lucrative job promotion or because you got a new area rug for your living room. I am happy for your child if they win the 3^rd place ribbon in the 4^th grade spelling bee or if they will be attending Harvard in the fall. Do you know why I am able to be happy for you? Because it literally takes no energy or strength for me to share in those triumphs with you. Whatever makes you happy, forges you ahead in this cynical, negative world or puts a smile on your face is a triumph and a journey I wish to take with you. It is certainly not something I wish to take away from you or worse yet, make you feel bad about it by not recognizing it or celebrating it with you. To do this is simply cruel and completely unnecessary. When someone does this to a child, it becomes especially virulent.

Feeling genuinely happy for you, takes nothing away from me. Feeling happy for your child and their successes, no matter how big or small has nothing to do with how wonderful my child is or how great his successes may be or by what gauge I measure those successes. Your opinion does not define me or my child but I will tell you that your lack of support and happiness for me or the things I hold dear, says a lot about the kind of person you truly are and the world in which you are bound to. That’s not the world I will ever live in, not even for one second.

 We are all mystical creatures with different talents, skills and character traits. The same is to be said for our children. They are unique, one of a kind, exquisite individuals in their own right. They are complex, eager and amazing people that we help to shape by our own experiences and knowledge. They will grow differently. They will learn differently. They will excel in some things and falter in others. So what does that mean in the grand scheme of things?? Nothing. Because your child is a better Science student than mine, does it mean you are a better parent? No, it just means that they are a better Science student. Because my child is a better basketball player than yours, does that mean he will be more successful later in life? No, of course not. It simply means they are different and with every fiber of their being they are trying to carve out a little notch for themselves that separates them from everyone else. So when my child excels at something, anything, show your love and support for him just as I do for your child. Because when you ignore him, what you are really saying is HE does not matter, HIS successes don’t matter. And to me this is the epitome of selfishness because you can’t rein in your adult emotions long enough to offer a “congratulations” or a “way to go kid” because the wonderful happened to him and not to your child.

But don’t worry, someday soon, something wonderful WILL again happen to your child. They will do something amazing and you will be so incredibly proud and happy and you will want to shout it from the rooftops and rightfully so. And you know what? So will I. Because that is the kind of person I am. I hope when you look back on whatever incredible moment you end up sharing with your child, you think of me. I hope you think of the countless times I led the brigade for your child and how you failed so many times to do the same for mine. I hope one day you will see what you’ve done and you can somehow reconcile that in your own mind. But in the meantime, I will choose the high road each and every time because my peace of mind means more to me than the satisfaction my words would bring to a deaf ear. So, I shall hold my head high and carry on and I will always, always choose kind over green eyed.

 

NOW...about that trip to Hawaii... I can be ready in 30 minutes!

Senior Moments

 

It was morning of September 3^rd, 2015. Mattie stood on the front porch, backpack slung over his shoulder, big smile on his face, so excited to be starting this journey…so much more ready than the person begging to memorialize the moment with a photo. The same photo I’ve taken since his first day of Pre-K. I’ve been there, every single time, every single moment. This one should be no different. And yet it is.

 

As he drove out of the driveway with his cousins, heading off to his first day as a senior in high school, I am paralyzed by my emotions. It’s hard to believe this day is here already. I knew it was coming. I had 17 years to prepare for it and yet, I’m not. I should feel proud. I should feel happy. I should feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, a sense of something, anything good but I don’t. My heart simply aches, just as I knew it would. It’s not to say that deep down I don’t have a flood of other emotions, amazing emotions about how proud I am and how fortunate I am to have been blessed with this incredible kid. But at this moment, it pales in comparison to the pain my heart feels.

 

This year, his senior year, will be filled with so many moments that will make me proud. He will get his driver’s license. He will go to prom. He will graduate. He has grown up before my eyes and instead of watching all these moments in normal time it’s like watching them on an old movie projector…Just when you get to the end, the reel flies wildly off the spool. That’s me. I’m trying to hold onto these moments, one at a time, trying to savor each one. They are precious moments that are flying wildly past me. I simply can’t get a grip on time anymore.  

 

I remember moments when he was little. Things like bringing him to my Mom’s, carrying him up that huge flight of stairs, dropping him off so I could go grab a drink with my friends or go to a movie or have an hour to clean the house uninterrupted by a toddler. Uninterrupted. If only I could go back and realize the power of the moment. If only I knew then how the time would race by. But I didn’t. None of us do. We only see what’s right in front of us. We don’t expect our children to be babies one day and in the blink of an eye, before us, stands a grown up.

 

I know I’m not the only parent to experience this. I know I’m not the only parent that wants to hold on for dear life and yet have the presence of mind to try and let go a little each day. I know it’s tough for a lot of us. But in the moment it feels like the loneliest place in the world. I haven’t been fortunate enough in my life to have the kind of marriage where I look forward to having the house empty. I haven’t had the “looking forward to time alone with my husband after the kids are gone” kind of life. I’ve been a mom, that’s all. My whole life has been wrapped up in him. Every single ounce of it. Maybe I’ve done him a disservice. Maybe I’ve done myself a disservice. But I don’t think so. He is a bright, sweet, funny, smart, amazing young man with a heart like mine (the jury is still out on if that’s good or bad) who dreams big and loves hard and wants nothing but the best for himself and those around him. I’d say I did a good job and although I know my job is far from over, everything is changing and changing fast. My problem is, I don’t know what to do with myself now.

 

Do I take up a hobby? Do I study a foreign language? Do I go back to school? What do I do with all this time that I dedicated to raising him? The everyday time that he no longer needs of me.  I simply don’t know what to do and with each passing day, the me I always knew myself to be, is fading away. I feel in a weird way, I am becoming less of a mother and more of just a regular woman and I don’t know what to do with that or how to relate to it.

 

These moments I speak of, are flying by. Graduation is next week and I can hardly keep a thought in my head. I am happy Mattie has decided to go to a community college only 20 minutes from home but the dynamic is already different. It’s in our nature to teach our children independence but when they finally grow their wings it’s a crushing blow to the Mama bird still perched in the nest. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want him to not need me. It’s selfish, I know but I can’t help it. I should have planned better. I should have prepared myself better for this moment to be left this alone. But I didn’t. So for once, I seem to be at a loss for words. A loss of perspective. It seems I cannot see beyond this moment, beyond this murky lens in which I view my life. I am so excited for this next leg of his journey because he has worked so hard and he deserves this. He deserves a life of his own, a life filled with all he has ever dreamed of. And as I watch that light of his burn brighter and brighter, I see mine slowly extinguish and it scares me so.

 

For now, I will do as I do. I will sit back and take what I can in stride. Take it with a bit of humor and grace. I will watch this young man who I love more than life, blossom and take with him every hope and dream I’ve ever had for him. He will continue to grow, continue to shine brighter than the brightest star and I will relish in the fact that I was witness to it all; every time, every single moment and with many, many tears, and a smile on my face, even the senior ones.

To the Motherless on Mother’s Day

                Today isn’t very different for me than any other day because my mother is still not here. A date on the calendar doesn’t change that fact, not even Mother’s Day. The reminder of her absence is only magnified because everywhere I turn, images of people and their moms flood social media, television, almost everywhere… people celebrating, just as they should do. Just as I would do, if mine were still here.

 

                My mom was sick for quite some time before she died and although I knew the outcome of her recovering wasn’t favorable, it took a while for me to accept this truth. It’s as if my heart simply couldn’t accept the reality my brain had grown to understand. That my mom would in fact, die, leaving me motherless. In the months preceding her death, I spent so much time talking to her, taking care of her, never wanting to be anywhere else, even when I knew my body and mind were so exhausted by the constant vigilance over her. I would remind her how much I loved her even when she began to forget that I was her daughter, her Jenny, her Junebug, as she always called me. I talked to her every single day, sitting by her hospital bed, reminding her of who she was, of who I was and all she meant to me. In those final days it brought me a little peace knowing I had had time to say goodbye. And I think in her final act of love for me, she chose to die when I wasn’t present as if she knew seeing her take her last breath would indeed have been too much for me to bear.

 

                 I thought about all the things she would miss, mainly Mattie’s milestones. His first day of his senior year, prom, graduation, his first day of college, his wedding day, the birth of his children and every other little or big thing in between those days. All the things my mom would have otherwise been front and center for. These things filled me with sadness because she should be there. She was supposed to be there. That was the plan. But I soon realized my sadness was not so much for Mattie because I knew he would be okay. After all, he still had me and I was HIS mom. It was me that I was so sad for. It was me that my own heart broke for. Because it was me that still needed her. It was me that still wanted her. She was always the glue that kept me together, always the one who made me feel okay. Each and every day I still want to call her, tell her about my day, ask her advice, bitch about something, talk about anything and everything and I’m heartbroken every time I realize I can’t. Her number is still in my phone even though it has long since been disconnected. I still look at the screen that is labeled “MOM” wondering who would answer if I dared to dial the numbers. It wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t be her.

 

                I know I am not the only one who has ever lost their mother. There are amazing women in my very own circle that have lost their Moms. We are a sisterhood of sorts, an army of women bonded by a loss that is unfathomable by most. Their pain is not greater than mine nor is their pain less than mine. It’s merely different. We are each grieving perhaps the greatest loss of our lives and somehow we’ve managed to survive. Some days are better than others. But one thing I am sure of, life is meant to be lived. It’s what my mother wanted for me and what I’m sure what your mothers wanted for you. I know today will be hard, especially if it’s the first Mother’s Day without her. So do what you must today to get through it. Cry, grieve, take a hot bath, drink a nice glass of Malbec or hang out with your girlfriends. Hug your children tight and celebrate your love for them. Live in the moment. It’s what we should do every day anyway. Whatever you decide to do today, be sure to breathe in and out deeply and just get through it. Get up, get dressed and show up. Be brave and go about your lives. Remember it’s just another day on the calendar. Your mother is all around you today, just as she was yesterday. Just as she will be tomorrow. She’s just not here physically but believe me when I say there is a gaggle of women (I imagine all our moms hanging out together) up in heaven looking down on us…telling us, inspiring us, believing in us, willing us to move forward through the pain. Don’t focus on the day. Focus on the life. The life she led. The life she wanted you to lead. Remember the stories, share the memories and be sure to talk to her. She is still there. She is as much a part of you as she ever was. Mother’s Day will never be the same again, I know. The pain will never go away, no matter how much time passes but a mother’s love is unending, even in death. This much I know to be true. So if nothing else, today, celebrate you! Celebrate the wonderful, amazing person you are, the person your mother raised.

 

Happy Mother’s Day. My you all be filled with love and peace today and always.

 

  Jenny  xoxo

 

The Upside of Anger

I made it through the holidays by the skin of my teeth. I usually go all out decorating and baking because it’s my absolute favorite time of the year. I am usually filled with happiness and the magic of the season. But not this year. This year I put on a happy face for everyone but inside I am dying. This year everything was different. Not only am I without my mother for the first time but this may be the last year I have Mattie under this roof, waking up with him on Christmas morning. Furthermore, Tom and I are just growing more distant. We are virtual strangers and I can hardly stand it anymore. Days pass and we barely utter a word to one another. We are roommates sharing a house but even roommates share some kind of intimacy. Between us, there is nothing.

 

I have learned not to cry. I have learned not to care. I have learned to live with the silence that was once deafening to me. I have learned to become angry. It is the only way I have managed to stay sane in a house that fills me with nothing but craziness. It is the upside of anger. It is the benefit of rage, of not caring. I am able to walk around and not give a shit about what he is doing, where he is going, when he is coming home. I have learned to tune everything out simply because I no longer care. It’s not to say that I don’t care about him. I’m sure I still do, somewhere deep inside. I care about his safety when he is working a job he hates. But he stopped caring about me and my feelings a very long time ago and to manage my pain and to stay in this house, to stay married to him for as long as I have, I had to become him. I had to become angry.

 

I’ve come to terms with this new me. I don’t think anyone has really noticed it except Tom. Maybe because I don’t need to be this me with anyone but him. I’m hyper vigilant, untrusting, irritated, resentful and downright pissed off all of the time. I guess I just got tired of pulling the entire emotional weight of this marriage. I’ve been doing it for nearly 6 years and frankly, I’m exhausted. I cannot do it anymore. It has taken the greatest toll on my heart for I no longer believe in him or us. I have absolutely nothing left to give. I am now as absent as Tom has been for the past 6 years and I’m okay with it.

 

What I’ve come to realize since my mom’s death is that life is so fucking short and that I deserve to be happy. She always told me so but I guess I never really believed that until now. I was so focused on Tom and Mattie, making sure they had everything they needed. And that if somehow I was a good mother, a devoted wife that happiness would be earned like a medal of honor that I could pin to my chest to show the world that I was good enough, that I had done right by my family. That for all my trying, I would get back a portion of the happiness I had given. But sadly, life doesn’t work that way. I have given everything of myself to the two people who have meant the most to me and although watching Mattie grow into a strong, intelligent young man who is well on his way to adulthood, is rewarding, it is simply not enough for me anymore. And every day, as I watch him gain more independence, I look around and wonder what is left for me here, in this house, after he is gone. What will become of me here? My purpose will be gone. My job. My reason for staying, will be gone. Tom has given me nothing of himself, showed me nothing. Our marriage, our life together is a joke. It is based on absolutely nothing. Built on dreams of a life he never really wanted and promises never intended to keep.

 

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore. Secretly, I long to, each and every day. But my anger keeps me in check. It simply won’t let me betray myself in that way. It’s been too much hurt; far too many nights my cries were ignored. Far too many nights my pleas fell on deaf ears. So I will sit with my anger until it passes; until the anger turns to acceptance. Until I can look at Tom without seeing resentment. Until I can see him as just a man who made mistakes, who didn’t mean to hurt me. Until I can forgive him for letting me down, for letting Mattie down. Until I can stop blaming him for turning me into someone I hate.

 

Every day, I am still trying. Trying to figure out my place in this mess. And my responsibility. I don’t blame Tom for everything although it sounds like I do. I’m just stuck in the bitterness instead of the sorrow. It’s not where I want to be, it’s where I need to be, for now. The loneliness over the last several years nearly destroyed me and has leveled what little confidence I have left. So it seems far less toxic sitting with the animosity, having it resonate through my body, feeling the power of it instead of the crushing blow of disappointment. It’s the upside of anger and it’s where I belong.

 

The Fallout

I spent a wonderful night with my friends….dinner and a movie. It’s the typical night out, date night. Except my husband is working and I am, once again, finding comfort among my friends. Not that I do not enjoy my friends or even appreciate my husband’s hard work, because I do, on both accounts. But, I am without my husband more than not these days and I fear my friends are growing tired of my story, and truth be told, so am I.

When I arrive home, I look at the four walls of the almost 5000 square foot unfinished house I do not own and I am puzzled by my surroundings. This house, this life, with him, is all I ever thought I wanted. It’s funny how time changes things or at least your perception of it.  I never believed I would find myself here again, alone and tired. It’s not the kind of tired from too much work but rather, fighting the good fight and never coming out on top. I waited for this man for such a long time and when you break it down, I left my first husband for him. Not really though. My marriage had dissolved a long time before I ever met Tom but that is how the story goes among insignificant people in an insignificant town who think they know what happened in my marriage and frankly, I have already come to terms with all of that nonsense. But as it has been told to me, my consuming desire for another man, and my need for a new life was actually the demise of my first marriage. But, I, the person that lived it, have a far different story to tell. One that is far less likely to make the local headlines or be the lead story on a Friday night at the neighborhood bar. Nevertheless, it is my truth. My marriage dissolved because we simply grew apart. I no longer felt wanted or needed by my spouse. I no longer felt him look at me the way he always did. I no longer knew my place in his world. I no longer felt loved. The same could be said for my current situation.  Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe this is the debt I am meant to pay for not staying and fighting for my first marriage. Maybe if I had been stronger, if I had stayed and tried to work it out…maybe I wouldn’t be in such pain now. I would like to think that’s not how God operates, but these days, I don’t know.

I suppose in my own warped sense of truth, I am getting exactly what I deserve. The fallout of a life wasted, a life I threw away. I am not crazy enough to think that the demise of my marriage was entirely my fault but I was the one who left. I was clingy, emotional, wanting more from him than I could ever hope to receive from any man. He was simply not capable of giving me what I needed. I thought my second husband was capable. I thought he was willing. I thought he loved me as no one ever had. He knew my personality craved affection, attention and acknowledgement. He was my friend. He knew what I had been through. He knew exactly what made me walk away from my first marriage and yet here I am, in the same exact predicament. Now I feel like this is all a test. A test that I certainly didn’t study for. A test in which I failed miserably before. And most likely will fail again.

Living my life is like being stuck on an island all by myself. I find the loneliness palpable. The anxiety grows in me each day and I look around and wonder how on earth I got here and what exactly was I doing when my life fell apart? Was I so busy that I just didn’t notice? This time, everything is worse though.  Mattie is a senior in high school and has dreams of going away to college. He is busy doing his own thing; a life filled with basketball, friends and activities. Tom is working so much trying to find his niche in a job that he hates, to pay for a life that he hates. I am merely surviving in a life I no longer recognize being a person I no longer recognize. I am certainly making the best of my situation because that’s what I know to do. I go through the motions. I am still a mother. I am still a wife, and I do all the things expected of me. I cook, clean, taxi kids, look after animals, do laundry…every single thing I’m supposed to do, mostly, without complaining. And as I struggle to make sense of it all, my sadness begins edging towards anger. And anger is not an emotion I relate well to. It’s like going to the diner and seeing the prime rib on the menu that I never seem to order. I know it’s there. It’s probably good but I merely glance at it and pick something that is comforting, something familiar, like a burger and fries. My fear, anxiety and sadness are my comfort zone. These emotions sit well with me. They play nice with me and I with them. Anger is the prime rib. It’s as foreign to me as the Italian language but as the days of my loneliness turn into months and then years, I’m learning that even the most unexplored territories have a purpose and a reason. The prime rib is looking better and better.

I’m not sure when I changed. It wasn’t a sudden thing, that’s for sure. I think it’s been a barrage of little things, a conditioning of sorts over the past 5 years that have made me angry, less caring and less emotional. I spent so many nights crying, racking my brain trying to figure out what I had done, what made me so unlovable, so unworthy that not just one man, but two men felt the need to abandon me. I know abandon seems a harsh word but it’s the only one I can use to describe how it feels. Then and now. It hurts to be left alone. To feel that the one person in the world who is supposed to love you the most, to need you the most, to want you the most, just doesn’t. It’s like pouring alcohol in an open wound. The pain is intense and long lasting. I don’t cry as much anymore. I’m quick to snap at Tom or Mattie because I’m literally at the end of my emotional rope.

I’m not sure where I go from here. Tom is here, in body only. He doesn’t talk to me. He certainly doesn’t touch me. I’ve often thought maybe there is someone else in his life, someone he found that makes him smile again, someone that makes his heart beat a little bit faster again. Someone like the me I used to be. But then I realize that he, like me, don’t have the time nor the inclination for such foolishness. So for now, I will wait. I will wait and see. I will wait until I figure it out. I will get through the holidays first and then decide. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want to be the fallout of another wasted life.

Some Undeniable Truths...According to Me

 

 

I am as good as I am going to get…so don’t ask me to go to therapy, take a pill that changes my personality or advise me to enroll in a self-help seminar. This is me and I am okay with me. If you aren’t, feel free to find someone better.

When it comes to doing laundry, that pesky sock(s) will inherently get lost. Just deal with it and move on. Buy more socks.

Some people are going to hurt you, let you down, deceive you or just be a complete a*@hole to you. It’s who they are and it has nothing to do with YOU! It’s a part of life and happens to everyone.

Always stock up on toilet paper. It’s one commodity that should never be left off the grocery list because if you do run out, and you will….You can almost pinpoint what your exact location will be when it happens!

A house doesn’t become a home until a family lives in it. Until there is laughter, muddy paw prints, clutter and noise, it is merely a building with 4 walls. If you are fortunate enough to have a home, do your best to honor it, protect it and cherish it.

Loving someone is the easy part. Share your life with someone you actually like, someone you would be friends with. Life is too short to share it with someone you hate.

Gravy is good on almost anything.

No matter how bad things seem, no matter how unhappy you think you are, there is always someone looking at your life, wishing it was theirs.

Women, in general are really not the complicated creatures we are made out to be. We want love, respect, a bit of humor, a kind word now and then and possibly some pretty shoes. That really isn’t too much to ask for, is it?

I am totally serious about the gravy thing.

If you have something to say, say it. But say it as kindly as you can. No one died and made you the boss of everyone. So, think before you speak. It’s not rocket science.

If you are asked a question and you don’t know the answer, ask someone, Google it or simply say you don’t know. There is nothing worse than someone who acts like they know everything, especially if another person in the room actually does know the answer. It’s uncomfortable for the person that has to correct you and it makes you look….well, stupid.

Do something every day that inspires you or makes you come alive. Write, paint, play; anything that keeps you seeing the beauty in this world.

If you are not a parent, please don’t tell me how to parent. You may think that you can teach me a few things, but trust me, you can’t. If you haven’t been there…you have no comprehension of the sacrifices, determination or love in which I do this job. So before you preach, chastise, correct or offer me your opinion, STOP! Some things are better left unsaid, and this is surely one of them.

If you have a point, get to it. Swiftly. Don’t let words or silence linger in the air in hopes the message is received. Be upfront and honest. Get to the root of the problem or the issue. No tap dancing or sugar coating here, please.

And finally, eat ice cream whenever possible. It is yummy and I do believe it is good for the soul.