Get Over it Already

It’s what I tell myself every day. Sometimes you just have to get over certain things, especially the things that you cannot change. Sometimes you have to let go, forgive those that have hurt you and move in a direction that at least resembles a forward motion. But then I ask myself, what if you can’t get past the very thing that is hurting you most? When you think the resentment and hurt will never go away, I wonder is there any way for that relationship to survive?

On an ordinary night in September, sitting in our favorite little bar, my husband looked tense and somewhat uncomfortable. I, of course asked him what was troubling him. We had only been married for 3 months and had been trying to get pregnant for 4 months. I thought we were happy and heading down the right path, heading in a forward motion. To say that I was ill-prepared for what he had to say to me was an understatement. He turned to me and proceeded to tell me that he was no longer sure that he wanted to have a baby anymore. As I sat there, on the verge of tears, I think he went into a spiel about wanting to do things with me, travel and have time together and that somehow he didn’t think a baby really seemed conducive to the life he had wanted to share with me. I think my whole body went numb and I had tunnel vision because I couldn’t think straight. Everything went black. But I did come out of my coma just in time to hear him say, “plus I can already see us divorced and me paying for a kid that I don’t see”.

I am sure the words he spoke were not meant to sting as bad as they did. I am sure his words were said with no more of a filter or a concerning nature than he would typically use in conversations with me. I am sure he didn’t think of how his words would translate to my already emotional heart. I am sure his words were simply meant, not as an actual predictor of our future apart but more of his normal cynical view of the world. His words, of course, hit me harder and deeper than he or I could have imagined.

After that day, I went into a spiral, downwards and backwards, definitely no longer a forward motion. From that point on, we never really spoke of a baby again. I went on birth control pills because by that time, I knew I could never allow myself to have his child. Not so much because he had denied me the one thing that I longed for but because I no longer trusted him to take care of me or my heart. And as much as I wanted another child, why would I bring a child into a world where cynicism and negativity was the pre-curser to their existence? I don’t know what happened to me that day. In a sense I feel like I shut down, like part of me died. A part of my new marriage died that day too. But more importantly, the belief in my husband’s love for me died too.

 Fast forwarding 2 years, the words still ring in my ear and stings just as bad as they did sitting in that little bar that September night. I fear these feelings of resentment and hurt will never go away. We are functioning as best we can. We both know something is wrong but neither of us bridge the gap anymore. I do my best everyday to get over it, get past it, put it to rest and move forward but I simply don’t have the strength anymore. It hurts far too bad. I watch movies or see commercials about babies and I always end up crying and feeling heartbroken all over again. He watches me cry and says nothing to console me. He knows this was a decision, a life altering choice he made for both of us. I didn’t have a option. I am 41 years old. My time to have children is dwindling fast and as I said, I no longer have the trust in him that I used to, the kind of trust it takes to bring a life into this world. He is not a stupid man. He knows the hurt that I feel. He sees it on my face every single day. He knows what he has done and now he cannot fix it. I try to voice my opinion, my hurt and frustration but I can no longer articulate my heartache to him. I feel as if he doesn’t deserve that part of me.  Maybe he doesn’t deserve any part of me.

 Our plan all along was to get married and have a family of our own. In the 10 years I have known him, he has always wanted children so I don’t know what happened in the couple months since we had gotten married. Maybe this was his plan all along which I cannot even begin to wrap my brain around. I can’t allow myself to believe he purposely deceived me; that he pretended to want children to get me to marry him. I can’t allow myself to believe that he would hurt me that badly. My only other thought is that he wanted children but maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to have them with me.

As for the moving forward thing, I will find my way, I have no doubt. I always do. I am just venting, releasing the pain with words in hopes that it will go away. I am truly saddened by a decision he made without me; a decision that I cannot change. But I also don’t want this to overtake me, make me lose sight of all that I do have. I don’t want to be angry with him. I don’t want to be sad anymore. I want to look forward. I cannot allow the pain of never having another child overshadow my one blessing in this life. I am so grateful for the privilege God gave me to be Mattie’s mother. He has been the greatest gift of my life.

All I can do is promise myself that tomorrow I will try and give my blessings more power than my pain. I will promise to look forward no matter how hard it may be. I will promise that I will do my very best to put it to rest and get over it. But my one question is this…When he looks back on his life, a life possibly with me, or without me, a life with no children to watch grow up, no one there to carry on his name, I wonder will he be able to just get over it?

It's No Joke. Exercise and other things are a Bitch!

After months of doing nothing short of opening a bottle of wine, I decided that it was time for me to take my health and my life into my own hands.

My plan: Get up early every day, take my vitamins, exercise and drink plenty of water.

What happened yesterday: I woke up early, took my vitamins, exercised and drank plenty of water.

What happened today: Hit snooze button 5 times, forgot my vitamins, was too sore from exercise yesterday to exercise today, and at 10:00 am I have only consumed about 8 of my 64 daily ounces of water.

I would say that is not too shabby, right?

My main problem areas for which I need solutions:

1. I am not a good sleeper, I never have been. I have trouble falling asleep, staying asleep and not having knife-wielding clown dreams so when I finally fall asleep, I need to stay asleep. When my alarm clock goes off at 6 am, I simply cannot get myself out of the confines of my bed because the fact of the matter is I quite possibly have only been asleep for a few hours. So exercise in the morning (which I am told is best) is very difficult for me.

2. When I come home in the afternoon, I become a crazy person as I am trying to still clean up the mess from the day before. I walk through the dog hair tumbleweeds to the sink full of dirty dishes and become a frantic lunatic to figure out something edible for my family to eat for dinner. I open a bottle of wine and sit and stare at my surroundings. I think to myself, this would be a wonderful time to take a walk.

3. I don’t know how to take care of myself anymore. I am so incredibly busy caring for everyone and everything around me, that I constantly put myself on the back burner. This is I am sure, typical of many other working mothers. Secretly I tell myself that I must take care of myself in order to continue to work myself into the ground caring for everyone else but I simply don’t feel like there is time in the day. Either that or the guilt I feel doing something for myself, is simply too much for an ordinary weekday.

4. I would say, in part I am somewhat lazy or rather, unmotivated. I want to be in shape, have flatter abs, smaller legs and arms and I crave to be a size 4 again and yet I am not willing to give up certain things…like wine, bread, cheese or pasta. So shoot me! I am a real woman with curves and I wish at 41 I could come to terms with my body and stop wishing to have the body of an 18 year old. My mother keeps telling me that 20 years from now I will look back on my body and be amazed at how beautiful I was. That is hard to imagine. Supposedly in 20 years I will be praying for this not so flat belly, these not so muscular ex-dancer legs and these not so skinny arms.  So in my issue stricken desire to be a thinner, healthier version of myself but not give up anything I eat or drink illustrates my laziness aka my unmotivated tendencies. Ugh!

5. Metabolism sucks. Period. Unless you have one of those fast metabolisms where you can eat whatever you want and not gain a pound. In which case, I hate you! Think back now. The days of senior prom week when the dress you were going to wear was just a tad bit too tight and you gave up, I don’t know, GUM for the week and miraculously you lost 5 pounds. I guess this is where I revert to that 18 year old body image. I want it but don’t want to work for it. I suck and so does this slow metabolism that hit me when I was 35.

6. Media and magazines will destroy the true image of beauty. I wish someone would come out with a magazine featuring 35+ women that were sizes 8 and up, who were happy with their bodies and ooze their confidence on all the shmucks, like myself that are in peril over eating and dieting and hating themselves because they are not a svelte size 2 like LeeAnn Rimes or Victoria Beckham. I want someone with a Marilyn Monroe body advising me on how to love myself, how to stay motivated and how to cut back but not eliminate everything I love. Is that too much to ask?

As I re-read this blog, I am more struck by the fact that most likely, my issues have more to do with me being lazy or unmotivated rather than any other of my complaints. Of course, this is also me, being way too hard on myself. I am harder on myself than I ever would be on a friend or even a complete stranger. But I suppose that’s how it goes sometimes; being my own worst critic. Oh well. If self punishment were a true motivator, I would be putting down this piece of cheese in my hand and putting on my running shoes. Unfortunately, it’s not.    

My Teenager is Driving me Crazy

Why is it when I ask my 13 year old son certain questions, he looks at me like I am a zombie Cyclops with that one eye smack dab in the middle of my forehead that he can’t stop staring at? I honestly don’t believe I ask my child anything different/complicated/over the top/ridiculous more than any other parent. Here are my top 10 questions for my 13 pushing 25 year old and his responses.

1. Did you brush your teeth?

Response: Of course Mom

My Thoughts on his Response: (He is smiling and looking away, so I know he is LYING)

Why does he not understand the concept of taking care of his teeth? And why would he want to walk around all day with that odor permeating from his mouth?

2. Can you feed the animals? (2 dogs, 2 cats and a Beta fish)

Response: In a minute Mom. They won’t starve if I finish my game first.

My Thoughts on his Response: Um….No they won’t starve but if you got up and did it right now it would save me coming in there and kicking you ass!

3. Are you trying to make me crazy?

Response: Yes.

My Thoughts on his Response: Well I guess I don’t have a clever come back for that answer. At least he was honest with me on that one.

4. Why can you not put your dirty dishes in the dishwasher?

Response: Because it was already full of clean dishes.

My Thoughts on his Response: Um…that would mean you would FIRST have to unload clean dishes from dishwasher and then place dirty dishes within the contraption. Ugh!

5. Can you clean or at least Febreeze your room?

Response: It doesn’t smell in here Mom and quite frankly I know where everything is.

My Thoughts on his Response: Not only does it smell like a locker room with everyone having funky feet and nasty armpits but I could write my name in the dust on his TV to send him a memo.

6. Can you please, please take a shower tonight?

Response: Oh come on Mom, I took one last week. Plus I went in the pool a couple times and chlorine kills everything. Don’t you know that?

My Thoughts on his Response: My child just infected the neighbor’s pool with his funk. And what ever happened to using SOAP dear child of mine???

7. Aren’t you going to eat dinner?

Response: Nah, I had 6 bowls of cereal and a couple Pop Tarts before you got home. I am not really hungry now.

My Thoughts on his Response: That the second I clean up dinner, do dishes, put them away and sit down with my wine, he will want something to eat which doesn’t involve HIM doing anything.

8. I understand the need to smell good but why so much cologne babe? I could smell you 6 blocks away.

Response: I didn’t use that much, Mom. God why do you have to always say stuff no matter what I do?

My Thoughts on his Response: If only Febreeze worked like his Axe cologne.

9. You haven’t been out of your room all day. I think you should put down the video games and come out here and spend some time with me. Don’t you?

Response: Negative, Mom. I told you that I may want to design video games when I graduate college. All this game playing is mere preparation to what could be a very promising career.

My Thoughts to his Response: This kid surely knows how to blow smoke up my ass doesn’t he? Video Game Design? Since when? Oh God, where is that bottle of wine I opened?

10. Why is it that you want to drive me crazy?

Response: Because it’s fun.

My Thoughts on his Response: Again, honest and I am far too tired to argue.

It is what it is

I always say, “It is what it is” and today is no exception. I use that term often and quite honestly, loosely. The sadness of my ordinary life is compounded by the fact that my father in law has Cancer and is dying. Although his finality is looming, no one knows how much time he has left or what his final days will be like. But I am, once again, in a position of not knowing what to do or what to say, to anyone, especially my husband.

The truth of the matter is I have lost a lot of people in my life. However, I have never lost a parent. For most part of my life, I have only had one parent; my mother. So the thought of losing a father is foreign to me, other than the obvious which is that I never really had a father to lose in the first place. I really have no comprehension of what my husband or his siblings are going through. I can try to understand their anger, their frustration, and their sadness but not truly. I cannot conceive of ever losing my mother so I imagine their thoughts and feelings are overwhelming to each of them. I do my best, every day to be there for my husband, to be my best self for him. Not just because he is losing his father, a part of his identity I don’t think he has ever come to terms with, but because for the longest time, I have loved him. It seems even with sadness and tragedy as the backdrop of our present life, I can do nothing right, nothing to console him. It is a commonality in my world these days to feel as if I am anything but what he needs. I have felt for some time that Mattie and I are nothing more than an obligation; a nuisance to what would have been his otherwise, uncomplicated life. But I would think at a time like this, he would find a reason to reach out to me, find a reason to feel comfort within these 4 walls he calls a home. He does not. He is angry and impossible and yet I continue to hold on, to shut up, to sit on the sidelines, waiting for him to need me. He is a part of me. He has been since I met him and yet, I feel as if I am failing him, and failing fast to provide what he needs. Even though I believe he longer knows what it is he needs or wants. My opinion doesn’t count anymore but I think he is so used to being unhappy and angry that he doesn’t understand when love stares him in the face. Mattie adores him for reasons I cannot fathom. I love him for reasons I can no longer express to anyone who asks me anymore. Nevertheless, mine and Mattie’s love remains and holds a vigil until the person we both know and love, returns. I don’t know if that day will ever come. Sometimes people can become so wrapped up in keeping up with their convictions and their idea of what’s right that they don’t see when they went terribly wrong. I can only hang on for so long. I haven’t really discussed my time frame with anyone other than Mattie and although I think I tell him far too much of my adult world to such a young man, he understands me like no other. He knows I am not happy and that no matter what I do does not make Tom happy. He is young but not stupid. Nor am I. I think because of my childhood and feeling as if I have wasted a huge part of my life on people that didn’t deserve my attention or my sadness, I am quicker to dismiss the things in my life that no longer work or hold happiness for me. I suppose dismiss is not the right word because I feel in my heart I reject a lot of things that hurt me or cause me sadness; my marriage nor Tom have been either of these things. But I know that I will not live the rest of my life unhappy. I simply won’t. Not for the biggest, most beautiful house in the world. Not for a false sense of security or stability for my child or myself. Not for someone that spews anger in every direction. And certainly not for a man that refuses to provide love, attention and acknowledgement to the two people in his world who deserve it most. So, today as I sit here, I can only repeat my own declaration; it is what it is. No matter what I do. For now, I can’t change my surroundings. I can’t reason with someone who won’t be reasoned with. I can’t talk to someone who doesn’t care what I have to say. For now, I will remain silent and carefully watch the train wreck that is heading straight for me. I will stay by his side, taking whatever he throws at me, in the attempt to give him the space and/or support he needs to deal with his father’s illness. I will take it all in, take the blame, and take the bullshit, all in the name of loving a man who absolutely refuses to let me love him.

Smackdown in the cul-de-sac

My 13 year old son, Matthew has grown taller and bigger than me in recent months; not to mention has developed a physical strength comparable to that of Superman. Granted, I am only 5’ 6 but I am no skinny-minny. I have curves, a small inner tube of sorts around my waist which surprises me everyday even though I know its there and boobs that enter a room before I do.  And even though I consider myself tough, I am a girl and pride myself on, not being necessarily fragile or delicate but definitely a girly girl. I like pretty shoes. I like the color pink. I like to wear makeup and at nearly 41, I pride myself on not being a frumpy mom, even if the trendy clothes I buy are found at Walmart or Target.

When Matthew was younger, he was obsessed with WWE, Wrestlemania, Smackdown, Raw or anything that had to do with this sport (if that’s what we are calling it). I obliged him by taking him to wrestling events (I even got to touch Batista’s flat, chiseled stomach once which was kinda enjoyable), buying him all the little figures of John Cena, Ray Mysteria, Triple H, Big Show and about 100 others, wrestling rings, posters, etc…I figured it was harmless. But what we would also do is have our own wrestling matches. Yup, just me and Mattie, Of course at ages 7-10, all I would really have to do was flip him on the couch, sit on him and tickle him until he gave up. It was simple. This wrestling tradition has never ceased in our house. Ever. Not even now, that he stands taller than me and nearly outweighs me. He now thinks this ritual is hysterical. My bruised and battered body no longer finds the humor in this activity. Nevertheless, it continues. Short of he and I rehearsing a “money in the bank ladder match”, there are bodies (mine) being thrown onto the couch or the floor (whichever I hit first) arms being twisted (mine). He now sits on me and “tickles” me. I use this term loosely.  It is more like big, long, very strong sticks being pressed into your flesh at mock speed. I surely wouldn’t call this tickling of any kind. But I, being a tough, girly girl will not give in nor will I give up. I fight him until I am banged up and bruised. You know I used to shout to the kids rough housing, “Knock that crap off. Somebody is going to get hurt”. Well that somebody that is rough housing and getting hurt is now ME.

I know he doesn’t hurt me on purpose. He merely has no concept of how strong he truly is. All I have to do is “tap out” and he will stop; which of course, I refuse to do. I may like pink and pretty things but I am still a mom and I have to show this kid whose boss. But just like there is no crying in baseball, there is NO crying is wrestling either. There is a bunch of whining going on and “ow” (s)  and/or “crap” (s) that echo through the house but for all the words I utter or scream, he shows me absolutely no mercy. So to end the torture, I must act truly hurt. Another kind of mother may feel guilty in lying or pretending to be hurt, but another kind of mother may not have a 140 pound kid holding them down and twisting their body like a contortionist. After about 20 minutes or so, he finally lets me up and as I catch my breath, he taunts and teases me for losing, for being weak, etc. for which I truly want to kick his ass. But I will let it ride this time. After all, he won fair and square and to be honest, I cannot take him “taking” me again. There will be no ass kicking tonight. I will retreat to my corner, head held low, praying that the wine and the Advil will soon kick in. Mattie shouts, “That was great Mom. Sorry I kicked your butt. Better luck next time.” He laughs that deep laugh that I love and walks out of the room. Yea, I am thinking, there shouldn’t be a next time but I know full well when the boy challenges me again, I shall try with all my might to take him down. It’s a connection we have; a “fun” that only he and I share. My only hope is that when he reaches 6’3 and 185 pounds, he will turn in his heavy middle-weight championship wrestling belt and leave his mother out of the Smackdown in the cul-de-sac.

Signs

Most everyone is familiar with the old adage, something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. This saying can be dated all the way back to the Victorian Era. It was English culture that believed each line of this poem represented good luck tokens for the bride. If the bride wore these tokens throughout the day, it was a sign that her marriage was to be a happy one.

I have always believed in signs. Sometimes I look for them and find none and then other times, I am not looking and one smacks me square in the face. Some signs are obvious, some, not so much. As I look back on my wedding(s) (yup, that would be both of them) there is one similarity. I wore my Nana’s blue chalcedony brooch which I always loved as a little girl. It was given to me after my Nana passed away. It holds really no value except for what it means to me. It was a piece of her and now it was a piece of me. Since she died when I was 13, I knew she would never see me walk down the aisle so wearing the brooch made me feel closer to her, as if somehow she was there with me. Looking back at the 2 years since my second wedding, I wonder if she might have been trying to tell me something.

First of all, it must be said, that I was always close with my Nana, even years after her death, I have always felt her love and guidance all around me. I feel as if she has given me a multitude of signs over the years. There have been unexplained things, items moved in my house, things falling off shelves, things rolling on the floor and an overall feeling that she was with me. At times, she has scared the crap out of me. Like the time that the beautiful Buddha she made in her ceramic shop sudden lost its head and rolled on the floor in front of me. No one was touching it or even near it. To me that was her way of saying “Buddha doesn’t belong here. So MOVE him!” To which, I quickly did, without hesitation. Since then, Buddha has found an appropriate home every time I have moved him and subsequently has kept his head attached to his body.

My first wedding went off without a hitch. It was a beautiful service, a beautiful reception all the while wearing my Nana’s brooch pinned safely on my garter belt. Unfortunately the marriage did not work out but I know my Nana was there blessing my day. My second wedding, although beautiful, has undoubtedly taken a detour I hadn’t expected. Things are not working between us and the harder I try to make things better, the worse everything becomes. I feel as if I no longer know the man I married.  Nevertheless, the day of my wedding, I was so incredibly happy and looking forward to a life with someone that I had loved for so many years.  I once again attached the beautiful brooch to my garter. Without my knowledge, in the chaos of getting ready along with 7 bridesmaids, 1 junior bridesmaid and 1 flower girl, the brooch fell off onto my sister in laws floor. I heard a noise but didn’t stop to look down to see if I dropped anything. We all continued getting dressed and were then packed like sardines into the limo. Half way between my house and the venue, I realized my Nana was no longer with me. Her brooch must have been the “thing” I heard hit to floor. I was devastated at the thought of not having it with me….Plus, God help me if I was missing the “something old, something blue” token. I was near tears in the back of the limo when my future sister in law gave me her sapphire ring to wear for the wedding. I was grateful to her, allowing me to continue this wedding tradition but for awhile I was inconsolable in the limo. I was soon reminded by my girls that I needed to pull it together. After all I was getting married to the man I had waited so long for. My Nana would surely understand, of this I knew.

Fast forward nearly 2 years, and I can’t help but wonder if my Nana chose not to be present at my wedding. Did she know something I didn’t? Could she see this man that I loved so much turn into someone that I would no longer recognize? Could she sense the sadness and loneliness that was to befall my life? Did she know that he would change and become a selfish and angry person? Did she see him, before God promising to love and watch out for Mattie only to have him abandon those promises? Did she see it all, watching me from heaven? Of this, I do not know. I am not sure I ever will. It saddens me even more that she may have tried to tell me and I simply ignored her. Maybe she was giving me signs all along and because I loved him so much and could not imagine a life without him, I ignored all her pleas.

I still love my husband and I wish so much that he was once again, the person I fell in love with all those years ago but as I have stated, I don’t know where he has gone and I certainly don’t know how to get him back.  He lives in a world very different than mine, a world of mistrust, unhappiness and anger, everyday. And nothing I do or say can bring him to love and trust me. My spirit is broken and I feel as if I have been “duped”. I feel more defeated than I have ever felt in my life. I try to look for the positives in any situation. (That is my glass half full mentality that I simply can’t abandon.) I know that I was blessed with an amazing child, a wonderful family and adoring friends all for which I am incredibly thankful and seldom take for granted. They have been my rock. They have been my soft place to fall when I feel as if I cannot take anymore. They have uplifted and encouraged me. They remind me regardless of how my husband feels or how he behaves, that I am a vibrant, intelligent, beautiful, caring woman that deserves the best that life has to offer. I try to remember their words as I soul search about what to do with my life.

The funny thing is when I feel my worst, I look to my Nana to give me a sign, and I simply don’t see one. I want her to tell me if each decision I make is the right one or the wrong one; to give me something tangible, to help guide me. Maybe she did what she could and now I have to start the work of cleaning up my own mess, learning how to once again, take care of myself and Mattie. I look at the Buddha comfortably atop my living room shelf, I look to the stars, I pray to the moon for her guidance but to no avail. I have never felt abandoned by her despite her absence. Knowing her, it is simply her way of telling me there are some things in life where signs are obvious and cosmic, even deliberate and not even I need someone to show me what I already know.

The Bear Scare

Living in upstate NY, it is very common to see a black bear roaming in your neighborhood or your yard for that matter. My home/neighborhood is no exception. We have had a visitor lately; a 250 pound; I assume, hungry black bear attempting with all his might to break open our garbage bin. He was not successful. So he did a little bit of damage to the structure, checked out the garage door and went moseying on down my driveway towards the road.

I called my husband because although common in these parts, it can still be a bit disheartening to have such a massive creature just feet from your deck and door. My husband is a police officer and works odd hours, leaving me and Mattie home alone at night, quite a bit of the time. My husband just kept repeating, “Do not go outside”. Um….DUH! I wasn’t planning on it. So not only is he nervous/scared for me, he is so protective that he calls a neighboring police agency to go check on his wife. WTF? Really? Oh and did I forget to mention that I have 2 very large, barking dogs that would not allow anyone or anything to get into the house to harm me or my child?? But nevertheless, the call was made to the police. To say I was mortified while 2 police officers were roaming my back yard with flashlights looking for said bear, is an understatement.  I mean really, the bear had been gone for nearly 20 minutes, most likely scared away by my 2 dogs constant (and I mean constant) barking and growling. I felt like a pathetic, scared woman that could not deal with a simple bear sighting (which may I remind you….HAPPENS ALL THE TIME IN UPSTATE NY) I was in my pajama shirt, knee hi socks and UGG boots with, of course, a glass of wine in hand, peering out the window, relieved when they finally agreed that the bear had left on its own accord. I poked my head out and kindly thanked them and apologized for wasting their time. Of course, they were polite and said, “No problem ma’am” which of course, to me, meant, “You’re stupid and ridiculous for being scared over something that happens everyday. And yes fool, you have wasted our time. Put your big girl panties on lady and suck it up. You live in the woods. Get used to it.”

I know my husband well so this is how I assume the phone call to his cop buddy went: “Yea man, can you just swing by my house when you get time. My wife called and was scared that there was a bear in the yard. I know dude, she’s overreacting but can you just go check on her for me? It will make her feel better”. The End.

I can’t help but laugh. I must assume he meant well and felt that in his absence, he did the only thing he could to look out for me and Mattie but dear Lord. I am a big girl and I know what to do in the event of a bear in the yard.

1.   Do Not Go Outside.

2.   Shut all windows. Not so much because the bear could get in, but because my one    dog, Max who is a 95 pound boxer/lab has been known to jump through a screen or two to check out what’s going on outside. Just ask the UPS man that dared come into my yard to deliver packages one day.
 

3.   Lock all doors. Women naturally think of this when anything whether bear, gremlin, ghost, serial killer, etc makes us nervous. It is our instinct to protect our offspring. Locking the door is a good place to start.

4.   Find a weapon. We have guns and ammunition in the home but I have not been taught how to fire these weapons, nor do I even know where they are in the home so I keep my bow close at hand in case I have to eff  this bear up, or anything else that poses a threat.

5.   Drink more wine.

Yup, I think that about wraps up my list of “what to do when a bear comes calling” instructions. It is informative and easy to follow so I have no doubt that in the future I will be able to once again, protect my family and my home. I try to explain to my hubby that I typically have liquid courage (more likely than not, Merlot) coursing through my body and that I am a big girl with my big girl panties on and that he needn’t bother his “brothers” anymore to assist his wife. The bear and I are cool. Until next time folks, drink up!

His Vacation, My Torment

Well it’s that time of year again…Mattie will be leaving this Saturday to go to Florida with his dad, stepmom and little sister. I am excited for him because he will get to bask in the sun, go swimming and do fun things with his other family but while he is off having fun, I will dive into a depression so big that it may just swallow me whole. I don’t know what it is about being away from him that I hate so much. As I have said in the past, he is 13 years old and even when he is home I don’t see him very much unless he ventures out of his room for meals, snacks or drinks. Regardless if he speaks to me or not, I still know he is there, close to me; a room away.

My anxiety has little to do with his fathers ability to care for him, keep him safe, etc…It’s just the times he is away from me, I am without the one person in this world that gives my life purpose; that makes my life make sense. The unfortunate thing about this depression is that Mattie knows about it. He knows that I cry without him and that I will struggle for the entire 8 days he is gone. And that is not something he should have to shoulder. But as I say, it is what it is. He knows that you can’t pick your parents! I tell him that he may not have picked me simply because of my anxieties and being somewhat of a helicopter mom but that he could never have been given another mother that would ever love him more than me. Somehow these words are not all that inviting or comforting to a 13 year old. Nevertheless, he rolls his eyes, hugs me and tells me I will be alright. He says he will try to remember to call or text me everyday to see how I am doing. I told him I would prefer phone calls so I can hear his voice. (Another eye roll and a “God Mom! Really?”) I laugh to myself and tell him a text will suffice.

Days before he is about to leave, I feel the anxiety building already. I feel the tears wanting to come but I hold off as long as possible. It will hit me hard when he doesn’t come home from school Friday because his dad is picking him up for their trip the next morning. As usual, during his absence, I will keep busy, find something to do, clean, read, cook, bake, organize, paint, write; anything to occupy my overly dramatic, anxiety ridden brain. I remind myself that I have friends to hang with, animals to care for, a husband to cook and clean for, a full time job and 2 part time jobs to keep me busy. Mattie is only one part of my life. There are so many other parts, just not ones that are remotely as important to me.

Hopefully for me, his vacation will fly by and I won’t miss him as much as I anticipate. Maybe I will learn to love the freedom his absence provides. A vacation from the eye rolling, the “God Mom’s”, the worrying about homework, bedtimes, excessive video game playing, etc…It’s simply a welcoming break from motherhood, right? Oh who am I kidding? I will cry, be sad and think about him constantly, wishing he were with me so I could yell at him for not cleaning his room or get irritated because he waits until 5 minutes before bed to do his homework. I will count the days until he returns, when I can look into those big blue eyes and throw my arms around his neck, welcoming him home. I will smile because deep down I know as I cling to him, he will be once again, rolling his eyes.

Why I will never buy a Kindle

In the age of explosive technology and ever changing times, I find myself wishing for a moment when everything wasn’t so advanced all the time. A time when some things we actually had to do for ourselves, wanted to do ourselves just for the mere pleasure of it rather than convenience. This is not to say that I don’t like electricity or hi def TV’s or advances in medicine. Many modern conveniences, I am quite happy with. I am thrilled about the invention of the computer and the steps it’s taken to make all of our lives easier, the iPod for which I love, when I walk or run and the video game systems that keep my child occupied for hours when I no longer have the wherewithal to speak in complete sentences. But the one gizmo or gadget that I cannot comprehend is the Kindle. I admit that I bought my kid a Kindle Fire for Christmas but don’t be mistaken. It was not so he could have a closer relationship with the fundamental joy of reading. No, no, that would have been the plain ole Kindle. The Kindle Fire was wanted/needed/desired more than life itself merely to fry some more brain cells; to surf the internet and download mindless apps (which have subsequently shown up as charges on my bank statement) and play yet more video games (which have also shown up as charges on my bank statement). Of course this is coming from a girl that grew up playing Pong (Yes, that one…Atari Pong).

Excuse me for a moment while I get sidetracked...

 Pong, for those of you who are too old or too young to remember was a two-dimensional tennis match of sorts. The little ball (which was ironically the shape of a square) would volley back and forth between two rectangles which were known as “paddles”. The object was to keep up with the ever increasing speed of the tennis ball square shaped thingy. You could play with 2 people (not hundreds of people as my son does on Xbox live) or you could simply play against the machine. But the fun part about Pong was that you COULD NEVER WIN against the machine! Ever! I could hardly ever win against my brothers, let alone something as savvy as a “computer” video game. It was incomprehensible. Today, my kid uses the internet, cheat codes, (for which they actually have cheat code books…that you can purchase for a nominal price), etc…to beat whatever game he is addicted to at the time. Now I ask you….what fun is that? The fun for me was always in the challenge of trying desperately wanting to win but knowing you never would. When I became so frustrated with losing, I simply stop playing. But inevitably I would take on the challenge yet again knowing full well, I wouldn’t win this time either. Maybe I am too old and I just don’t get it. Some things will always escape me.

Okay, now I’m back…

 The point of my story is the Kindle and my reason for never wanting it. My reason is very simple. I just love books too much! I love the feel and smell of books, especially an old book you find somewhere deep in the back of your local library. Nothing makes me happier than a leather-bound book with a spine that has seen better days. It means it has been somewhere, told its story a thousand times. It was loved and shared and appreciated. I browse through an old book, sniffing each page, feeling the sheets between my fingers. Whenever I go to NYC, I try to visit the New York City Library. I walk through this historic landmark and I am in awe. Slowly, I take it all in, wandering through the stacks, visiting each floor of the library. There are rows and rows of long, shelves that seem to go on forever. It holds hundreds of thousands of stories and adventures. In my opinion, it is one of the most amazing and beautiful libraries in the world. (Course I haven’t really been to many places in the world) But as I have mentioned in past blogs, I am a collector of books. Or rather, I will not throw out, give away or donate my books. I am obsessed with books. I will, however LEND a book out but it must be returned within a reasonable length of time or there will be a bounty placed upon their head. Books are very personal to me, special even and I’m not sure why. The truth is, I don’t really care why I have this love of books. I just do. I surround myself with books, paperback, hardcover, old, new, I don’t really care. So, the idea of reading a book on a 6” screen that I just downloaded from the internet is far too foreign to me. I like to go to the bookstores, the libraries and the yard sales to see what treasures I can unearth. Nothing against you Kindle users. Honest. Download away! But for now, I will stick with my good old fashioned, book! I suppose there could be worse things, right?