Once the child... (Once the Child · Peter Bjorn and Victoria Bergsman)

     Let me tell you...nothing makes you feel more odd than reversing the roles with your parents.  I had to do it while my Mom was ill.  Become her parent.  Yell at her to take her medicine and drink enough fluids.  Now I have to do it with my elderly father.
     Now, many of you KNOW my Dad.  He is full of spirit and energy (considering he is about to turn 85).  He still drives (not always safely) and goes out (usually to buy scratchies).  He gets his haircut from the cute little hairdresser he likes to visit.  He doesn't mind a field trip to the casino.  He runs to the supermarket for any item and drives them all nuts to find it for him.  The kids make him play baseball in the yard and have light saber fights, etc.  Always up for a chance to watch his babies...he is a wonderful grandfather.  But he's getting older.  He dozes on the couch after a bit and needs to rest from time to time.  He yells at us when we park too far from a building.  He also misses his lovey very, very much.  So we put up with the rants about shoes in his way or cilantro that I sneak into his food.  He is a wonderful man in a million ways and we are all lucky to have him.
     That being said.  He is also a pain in my ass.  He knows nothing of the bills, credit cards, taxes, etc.  He has never planned for anything.  He was taken care of by a huge family of women and then a devoted wife for almost 40 years.  So guess who has the burden now?  Part of me is very happy to pay him back for the years of fathering that he delivered to this curly haired little cookie.  But parts of me are amazed at how little he did on his own.  The man could oversee building some of the world's most famous structures but now...here...he is clueless.  We have little fights here and there and he "apologizes" with a box of chocolate or a new flowering plant.  At least he still knows how to charm a lady.  The last few months have been hard.  I can't mourn because I am too busy taking care of business.  Maybe that's a good thing.  All I know is I'm exhausted.  We include him in as much as we can.  I leave him notes each morning to remind him of the day of the week it is and where we all are if the house is empty.  I help him with pretty much everything.  Except the scratchies.  That he seems to have no problem with.  He took care of me for a long time...still does in a lot of ways so it's the least I can do.  I know someday he might not know me anymore and another day he will be gone so I hang on to each moment as much as I can.  I will make notes, I will do two sets of bills and budgets, I will take care of the house...but it doesn't mean I like the new role of parent to my own Dad.  It's hard.  It's tricky.  It's confusing.  In many ways.  So I remember the days he took care of his little girl (Cookie, Meatball, Peanut, Chrissy) and all he did for me and remember that I owe him.  It's that simple.  But if you are young enough to have young vibrant parents...enjoy them for me please...and don't waste a day not letting your parents know how much you love them!

Sunny and 70° (I Was Made for Sunny Days · The Weepies)

     I have often equated my emotions to the weather.  In fact, for the past year or so I would joke about causing the weather.  You know that storm that knocked out the power and downed a few trees...me.  The sunny day that made you pack a picnic basket and head to the park...thank me.  The blizzard in April complete with a snow day...you got it...all me.  The weather and my emotions have had a relationship.  If the weather can be sunny and beautiful one day and the next cause major destruction then why can't little old me? 
     I am a little sky full of weather.  I can be gentle and kind like a warm summer breeze.  I can be the roughest storm you have ever endured.  I can be the quiet snowfall of a tender storm in January.  I think if my mind and spirit was a bit more inland maybe things would calm down.  But right now I am the mighty coastline.  One hour you can sip a drink on my sandy beach but the next you might just be running for your life from my lightning.  And I am starting to accept that it's okay.  I have had a lot of changes.  My jet streams and troughs and other various weather terms are all a flyin'.  I am no longer the kite being blown in the breeze.  Now, I am the actual forces surrounding the kite. 
     I think that the quick changing weather patterns are a part of the process.  I am taking each day, each hour, each moment for what it is.  I am looking and finding and growing and changing...always.  I am finding the present.  The ominous skies are no match for this brain.  The seasons and their moods are welcome.  I realize they are part of the journey.  Little by little I will become that place that has higher real estate values because of its weather and views.  Those sunny and 70's places.  I will have little stormy moments here and there to keep it interesting I promise.  I will give you snow days and sunburns and flash floods...but for the most part I will be the inspiration to take that walk.   For now,  I will welcome the seasons and all that they have to offer.  I also promise to cry less because it needs to stop raining!  (yep, that's me as well)

Blog already (Say · John Mayer)

     Yo....what are you waiting for?  You want to start a blog.  Start one.  You have something to rant or cry or fume about...go for it.  Have nothing at all important to say?  Guess what...none of us do.  But just do it already.  The whole point of this whole crazy thing is that you start to find the voice (the one that whispers).  Let it speak.  It will get louder.  It will start to find that it is ok.  It will start to find that it cares less and less about judgment and more and more about truth.  Its own truth.  Your own truth.  Some days the white screen will be scary especially in the beginning but before you know it you will laugh at the "blank page" before you.  You might start to enjoy it.  You may start to find the motivation to do something different.  You just might inspire someone.  At the least you will let a few people in this big old crazy world know that they are not alone in their thinking.  Soon you will find new things to talk about, bond over and care for.  Reaching inside of yourself turns into reaching out to others and them reaching out to you.  It's a great little process.  Find a topic, find a passion, find whatever.  Just find it.  Maybe your grammar sucks or you can't spell or people laugh at your topics...but they don't matter.  You do.  Write more and write more often.  And for goodness sake give me something to read.

My status is "separated" (Merry Happy · Kate Nash)

     (This post has been sitting in my draft section for weeks. The separation happened a long time ago.  I find today as I have just finished my book that I am setting it free to the world in the hopes of making me lighter.  Wish me luck!)
     I am separated.  God, that hurts to say.   I didn't accept it myself.  I couldn't deal with it being over.  It was bad enough when I had to tell my closest friends and family.  It was hard to do the school paperwork for my daughter.  It was hard to realize a million little and huge things.  Nothing is harder.  Nothing.  It has been a horrible journey that I wish upon no one.    Ups and downs.  Hell and heaven.  Destruction and rebuilding.  Honesty and lies.  Anger and peace.  You get the idea.  I watched Eat, Pray, Love.  It helped.  I'm reading it now.  Thinking about putting on a Barbie production of it next to keep reminding myself that it will all be ok.
     I've heard lots of theories lately.  The universe has it all laid out and we are just going about our business like ants at a picnic.  I've also heard that what happens to you simply happens to you and it's how you deal with it that matters.  The term soul mate has been questioned.  I have analyzed what was done wrong and right.   I have blamed me, him, the times, our ages, global warming. 
     I guess the real problem was the failing.  See, I don't get bad grades.  I'm not used to them.  This means I have to accept that I messed up.  And this one is a biggie.  Therapy, religious retreats, Dr Phil books, Oprah...I've tried it all. I've been skinny and fat.  I've tried dark long hair and short blond hair.  I worked my ass off in a million different ways and here I am with over 17 years invested in a relationship that is over.  I have cried in the shower, on the floor, while scrambling eggs, by the washer and dryer, near the window, while driving, in nightmares...everywhere.  I have sobbed in several states. Somewhere along the line the sobbing had replaced the numbness of life.  I had many tears to get out..thank goodness they don't stain.
    This dismantling goes back for years and years.  First, you start to realize it just isn't the same.  You hear less and less how beautiful you are.  Then you aren't even listened to.  There is no sharing...no communicating.   You become a ghost in your own life.  You spend every moment of every single day giving... to the kids, the husband, the old parents, the animals, the job.  Your life's path and career get put on the back burner so someone else can give a try at theirs.  You spend day after day doing all that needs to be done and instead of being appreciated it becomes expected.  (Hmmm, this really keeps coming up, huh?!)   You then find a growing resentment in your stomach.  One that starts to punish and manipulate, nag and bug.  The two dear friends and partners become angry enemies...silently at first and quite loud later on.  You forget the goals you established so long ago...or maybe they were achieved already...and now what?  You start to hurt one another in more ways to count and that is when it is time to surrender.  Requests are ignored, presence is avoided and any time spent together is hurtful.  This goes on for years.  Quietly at times, a blasting volume at others.  There is no balance. 
     But that being said...I can finally say after years of trying and denying and fighting and losing...it is really here.  The thing that I thought could NEVER happen in a million years...did indeed happen.  I guess I should have been onto something when at a renewal of vows ceremony he used the words "In sickness or in HELL".  Sometimes now I cry on the floor too but for different reasons.  Instead of being lonely and sad now I cry for the loss.  The loss of a family, traditions, habits, rituals and memories.  I cry for the replacement of it all.
     Until just the other day.  It finally all made sense.  Finally could be at peace with it.  Apologies were made.  Habits were accepted.  Honesty rang true.  I saw things for what they were instead of what I hoped they could be.  A mirror also showed me what needed to be changed personally.  I have accepted that two people can be terrific parents, will someday be great friends again but were just not so good as partners.  Neither of them.  No more fingers.  No more blame.  Just acceptance that all of this time was spent for a reason.  I have perfect children that I could not imagine living without.  I have almost two decades full of beautiful memories.  We grew up together.  We had first jobs, new careers, dear friends,  a first apartment, a first home, a miscarriage, two cats, a frog, a parrot, kidney stones, gall stones, new cities to travel to, new roller coasters to ride, endless parties, countless game nights and the two most amazing children.  We shared births, deaths, starts and ends.  We moved away.  We moved back.  We grew up.  Not a day goes by I don't think of the life I spent so long living.  But I am working on something...instead of thinking of the would have or could have of it all I am now simply remembering the beauty.  The growth.  Instead of wondering where I could have been by now had things played out differently I am now thinking of the whole new start that is in front of us.  Instead of thinking of it as time wasted I am thinking of it as time well spent for so many reasons.  Instead of thinking of the people I could have lost...I will make sure that they all know what they mean to me.  Instead of clinging I will let go and allow this broken heart, broken spirit and broken soul begin to heal.
       And to you, (my retired Shmoopy) I wish you a life full of love.  May you be the best father a child has ever seen, the best son to the best mother in the world, the best brother for two of the coolest guys you are lucky to know and everything you always wanted to be when you grew up.  And please don't ever stop making me laugh.

The strike...part 2 (Turn to Stone · Ingrid Michaelson)

       It was funny.  It was hard.  It started out at the very beginning of the day.  My children came to me lost.  "What are we wearing today?!?".  I replied, "Don't know...go figure it out".  Little feet descended down the steps.  A moment later..."It's picture day"....yep...good luck with that.  This continued with a series of summer type dresses that simply could not be worn while it was still in the 30's.  I stayed in bed watching the contents of a tired little dvr.  They managed though and she even helped the little guy out with finding HIS outfit for the day. 
     Lunch time rolled around.  "Mom, I'm hungry".  My response was a disinterested...."Yeah, I'm starving but I'm busy making myself lunch".  He made his own sandwich complete with peanut butter, a touch of Nutella and sliced bananas.  He even put everything away.
     We did run errands.  I battled with this.  But I came to the conclusion that I could be selfish again.  I took my pants to the tailor and did a bank deposit but not before I got myself a large yummy coffee.  I then went to CVS to pick up yet another prescription for Emily's nebulizer...because hey, a kid needs to breathe.  I also got the dog food because she can't drive yet.  Otherwise, there were no fun little trinkets purchased from machines full of plastic bubbles or any other such thing.
     We had a small window of time before I needed to pick up my kid from school.  I walked past the vacuum and its twisted cord.  I breezed by the mess of a kitchen.  I paused by the sink and stared at the dishes that were crusting over with traces of soup.   I sat amidst the toys and books and dog treats in the living room and sat on the couch with a book.
     We headed to a previously scheduled play date.    The kids ran around and screamed while two moms sat there discussing the strike.  This was not the first frustrated mother I had talked to that day.  There are a series of us.  After a short time we came home.  My Dad had gone out and purchased a pizza since I had mentioned that I was not cooking.  When it came time to eat.  I got myself a napkin, plate, drink and a slice and sat down.  At this point it was almost comical.  I am the girl who serves everyone first.  Before me.  Always.  I sometimes eat standing up in the kitchen depending on the meal.  So this just made everyone give me a sideways dog look.  I didn't touch the dishes.
     I ordered the kids to get ready for bed...hours before we normally would have.  No story.  No giggles.  No movies.  I told them that the weekend would be chores and lists.  I also told them that if they continued to be jerks to one another I would have to return one of them.  Only one could stay.  That made me smile in my dark little striking soul.
     It hurt me to be this way.   I know some of us had parents where the house and chores came before games of Candy Land on the floor and giggles.   My house is not like this.  I make mornings magical.  I make all meals an event.  I make the mundane sweet.  In real life we do have to do certain things though.  We need clean clothes.  We need healthy snacks.  We need to brush our teeth and practice our piano.  I was in the type of mood to organize and tidy and clean so it hurt me to do nothing.  I am not that sort of house either.   I need it to have a certain level of structure.  I guess I'm somewhere in the middle.  I tried and I didn't realize that I have succeeded.  We have our to do lists but we also have our Monopoly sessions.
     The other moms mentioned that they clean for themselves.  So funny...I guess I do too.  One even reminded me that the things we are bothered by are probably not even noticed by the household members.  Another reminded me that she likes things done a certain way and to the level of expertise that she does it.  I get that...it sounds familiar.  I realized the strike wasn't about the DOING of the chores.  I mean a little bit here and there, sure.  People do get comfortable and will do less and less if you allow it.  But it was really just about the thanks in a thankless, never ending, no paycheck kind of position.  If it takes a little strike every here and there to remind the world that we do so much then so be it.  The laundry piles are still in the bathroom but I can't have a house without giggles.  It's that simple.  The "power" I needed to have the fortitude to strike...well....I think I will use it elsewhere.  I will use it to continue to put myself on the list.  I will use it to do what needs to be done and not feel like the bad guy when it happens.  I will use it to give myself permission to not be invisible or taken for granted.  I will remind others that expectation does NOT replace appreciation.  Not in my house.  But I like my constant changing chore charts, to do lists and structures that allow us the safety, health and time to do all of the other wonderful things that we do.  I will put down my sign and tuck it into the closet somewhere in the hopes that someday the respect and gratitude that a devoted person deserves allows her the chance to burn it.  Until then, I will get it out when needed.   Somewhere in the strike they are reminded how lucky they are to have me and I remember that the blessings that they are is why I do it all in the first place.
    

On strike (Someone Great · LCD System)

     I am on strike.  Officially.  As of now.  I am giving myself permission.  I am the union rep and the negotiator and the law.  I spent a great deal of time exchanging different vents last night.  I will probably find a few more today.  The women in my life as well as myself are all in this spiral.  The hamster wheel has always been spinning at an uncontrollable speed.  But today I am slamming the breaks.  I am not worrying about being the "perfect" everything while it seems as if nobody else does.  Yes I know...a mother's work is never done, a daughter's life is thankless, a partner is full of expectations....yeah, yeah, yeah.  It doesn't HAVE to be that way.  People CAN say thank you.  They can prioritize just like you do.  They can respect the time and effort and devotion you put into life.  But somewhere along the line expectation replaces appreciation.   They don't realize you haven't done a damn thing for yourself because you simply don't have the time or chance to.  It's not being a martyr either...it's just the way it is.  The more you do...the more they expect.  There is no reward, no raise, no bigger thanks.  When it's missing though...wow, do people notice.  I can't remember the last time I took a long shower or went to the bathroom without interruption.  These are basics...c'mon.  I put off the book club book to cram it into the waiting line as I pick my kid up from school.  Just read?  For pleasure...what is that?  My clothes seriously are almost comical at this point.  Time for the gym...ha.  I blog...yes...but I'm quick about it.  I even squish that in wherever it doesn't put someone else out.  It's 5:30 in the morning at times.
     Somewhere along the line we were told we would just DO these things.  Then society added to it.  Now we have to do it with flair and creativity as well.  We have to be supermoms, amazing selfless partners, grateful children, maids, chefs, teachers, organizers, therapists....and a million other things under the sun.  We are made to feel guilty the minute we aren't. 
     Let's look back in history though.  And please don't find me a man hater...I swear I'm not.  Just look.  Men provide.  From the days of the cave to now.  Thousands of years later.  But people we aren't just flinging a baby on our back while we walk through the brush anymore.  So if we evolve into these crazy women who have to keep topping ourselves...where the hell is your evolution?  We do it all and we do it well and many work at the same time.  We worry about the development of our children while we are stirring the risotto and sewing something with our toes.  We run from room to room.  We ask permission to do things with our pals so maybe the men in our lives can "babysit".  Nope.  Not anymore.  Ladies...in the 60's they burned bras to work...idiots.  80's made us realize we could wear stupid white sneakers with our power suits and have the big career...for less money...dumbasses.    Somewhere along the line we decided we could do it all...and boy do we.  We rock.  We really do.  But are they keeping up with us?  Do they come home from a long day at work and then continue to run around doing everything for everyone else?  Do they use their days off to clean, run errands, etc?  We never stop.  Never.  We are expected to have 35 roles while they continue to have one...maybe...if we're lucky.
     Now, there are a few of you who are exceptions.  I see you.  I am proud that you are fair and equitable and kind and appreciative.  But I have a feeling 99% of the ladies reading this are understanding the sentiment.  I'm not angry.  I'm frustrated.  I need to remind you that our never ending thankless job is just that...never ending and thankless.    Maybe the shift for this next generation needs to happen.  We do it because we are crazy and love you all and  because we constantly need to prove how amazing we are.  We do it because nobody else will.  We do it because we were trained to.  We look back at history and are amazed at how people were treated at certain points because of some major issues.  We look back in horror.  Now, don't get me wrong I'm not comparing the status of the modern woman to any major offense on life.  I am hoping though that sometime soon we realize we were living without the respect and appreciation and equality that we deserved and I am starting that shift today.  Join me.

You've been walking all this time...now fly! (Blackbird · The Beatles)

     There seems to be a theme flying around these days.  Regret.  Regret for the loss of time.   We are all looking back at our lives and wondering what happened.  Where did the time go?  What happened to the grandiose plans that never came to fruition?  When did we wake up from our dreams?  We thought we would have a certain life by a certain age...settled...calm...full.  Instead we are dwelling on our financial status and perplexed at how we seem to be not that much better off now than we were then.  We are analyzing our careers and the years of dedication and education that went or did not go into them.  Why did we move?  Did we have enough kids?  Should we have more?  Why didn't we have them at all?  Should we move again?  Why didn't our relationship make it? If only we had spent more time reading, fishing, traveling, studying.  If only we had spent more time with our sister, dad or friend.  If only.   Loss, sorrow, disenchantment.
     But if you spend your hours with lament for what is past you will forget to live in the now.  You will look beyond the smiles that you see right in front of you.  The sunny days will come and go.  The new and exciting will elude your path.  You won't take that chance.  That chance that might have changed your whole life, rocked your whole world.  My new mantra is "this day is the youngest I will ever be".  It seems to be working.  It takes the pressure off of the number of the age.  It takes me away from all that I SHOULD HAVE done up to this point.  It removes the sadness of a lost anniversary or a growing way too quickly child.  It makes me focus on a day with an elderly man that still remembers me.  It makes the possibilities of tomorrow so much bigger...so much brighter.
     I preach a good sermon at times to the people around me.  Sometimes I believe in it all, others I fake it up as much as I can for their sake.  I tend to live these sentiments not just deliver them.  I try.  But as I walked the track last night with a dear friend discussing futures...I realized we sounded young.  We sounded like we were at the beginning.  Should we pick a different major and try our hand at something new? Should we move?  Should we have a relationship?   It got me thinking about so many of these questions lately.  To have kids, to get married, to get divorced, to go back to school, to try a new career, to sell, to move, to join the Peace Corps and the countless other topics we have all covered.  I have had these talks with you over wine, beer, pizza, cupcakes and dinner.  We are all a little lost.  We are all very tired.  We are all confused and saddened by what has happened to the life we thought we would live.  We need to get over it.  We need to stop looking back.  We need to see today.  We need to make the biggest plans yet for the people we have found along the path.  Dig new dirt, plant new seeds, watch our gardens grow.  Take up our battered wings, give them some time to heal and then remember why we have them.  We have them to fly.  We have them to soar.

Not enough time in the day (Ok, It's Alright With Me · Eric Hutchinson)

    My house is in the same state as my being.  I turn and at all angles there are piles of things that need to get cleaned up.  I have to purge.  I have to cleanse.  I start here and look there and have a whole new pile to contend with.  That's the house.  And the hoarder garage.  And the flooded basement.
     Paperwork is everywhere and I'm trying to catch up but it's quite the job.  Yesterday I did some banking and had a visit with the accountant...but I still need to do so much more.  For me AND Dad.
     My dvr is crying it's so full.  If you listen carefully you can hear it weeping from there.
     I have two books started.  One is changing my life and the other is an assignment.  And there are a pile of others yet to read.  Yet I joined a site that just adds pressure...in a good way that is. 
     I have to think of something new to do each day...a challenge I put upon myself but a challenge indeed! Oh, and now I'm doing 29 days.
      I have to make time to workout.  I walked a few days last week and it really helped.  I am 6 lbs lighter in a short time and though I am excited about that...the goal seems very far away.
     Oh wait, I have to parent as well.  For a kid recently enrolled in the gifted program and a five year old that never stops speaking...absorbing...taking in the world around him.  Constantly.  Did I mention he never stops talking.  Ever.  Wonder where he gets that from...heh.
     My Dad is finally showing the signs of depression since losing my Mom.  He smiles when he needs to but I see the signs and I don't know how to help him.  I do think about it.  I include him as much as possible but it's hard.
    The pooch needs more training.
    I started digging in the garden before the last round of snow came...
    I have friends and family on my mind at all times.  When can we get together?  When can I visit? When can we have coffee?  When can we talk?  Just the other day I got to catch up with my dear friend,  Miguel.  (He inspired this song).  We caught up on life.  I realize I have so many more I need to catch up with.  But even if we don't sit a few feet away from each other...in my heart they are right next to me.   Cheryl, we WILL have coffee.  Theresa, we WILL have lunch.  Tina, I WILL come and take care of you.  Sandi...I know, I know....a playdate needs to be scheduled.  It goes on and on.
     The "rant" makes it sound like life is pretty good.  It's getting there.  I will clean, and catch up, and visit and walk.  I am inspired by my lists.  I am excited to visit.  I am seeing the positive optimism come back to me...moment by moment, day by day, breath by breath.  My list will never be complete but that's ok with me because I am finally the one making the list.

Go fly a kite (Go Fly A Kite · Nick Lucas)

     Yesterday we attempted to fly our box kites.  They did ok for a bit but needed some repair.  It was a wonderful lesson to teach that sometimes you take risks and that the kites were built for flying...not for sitting in our dining room.  We then realized that it was too perfect a windy day to not REALLY fly kites.  A quick trip to the store and 3 pretty kites later and we had a breezy hill of wonder.  I was telling the kids that when life gives you wind....go fly a kite.  There's that theme again...deal with what you are given.
     It was sunny.  The winds were blowing.  I had two healthy children flying their new kites.  My Dad watched from the side.  I had a partner to help with the string entanglements.  It was a good moment.  A moment that removed me from the everyday of life that can be a burden.
     But it is Monday and I am feeling overwhelmed already at the thoughts of all I have to do this week alone...let alone for the rest of the month and beyond.  I am doing my list of minor rants to a silly song in the hopes to lighten my load.  I will tie my troubles to the tail and I will toss my worries to the wind...