Happy Birthday Facebook!

Facebook is 10 years old today.  Wow.  It's seems like there has always been a Facebook and yet it's a mere 10 years old.  On the other hand, those 10 years have flown by and it's hard to believe that FB has been around that long.

Quite a paradox.

I love Facebook and social media in general.  I love that I can stay in touch and find people who would have otherwise drifted out of my life.  I love that my family posts pictures from far away and I can share in things.  I love that I can offer love, support and kindness to people who need it and never have to dial their number (I hate talking on the phone).  I love that the older it gets, the more social media touches lives in positive ways.  I love that I can make new "Facebook friends" and it feels like we're besties even though, in some cases, we've never met face to face.

I also love that it did not exist in the 80's...just sayin'.

My kids tell me that Facebook is now for "old" people (translation...anyone over the age of 30) and that they've moved on to Instagram, Vine, Tinder and whatever else is floating around out there.  What. Ever.  Love it or hate it, Facebook turns 10 big ones today.

Which of course got me thinking.

Where was I 10 years ago?

We were living on the Eastern Shore of Maryland in what I can only describe as my dream home.  Small town, 30 minutes from the ocean, unbelievable house with an even more unbelievable kitchen, wonderful family...It was a dream come true.

My drinking was escalating at the time but was no where near where it would be by 2010.  That said, I was dealing with a lot in those years.  The hubs had emergency bypass surgery.  Matt was hospitalized for a very severe case of strep.  My mother was slowly dying and trying to take me with her.

But in spite of all of that, life was really, really good.  The hubs was working at a job he loved.  The boys were young and involved in activities that kept me busy.  I discovered Little League Baseball which I grew to love with a passion.  I made some life long friends.  I loved our house and our neighborhood and we entertained a lot.  I was in graduate school (again).  I knew and loved every inch of that little town.

I've often wondered why God took us to that life in 2004 only to help me make decisions that would move us away from it only three years later.  I guess He just wanted us there.  And now He wants us here.  I think He wanted us here for the schools and the opportunities my boys would never have had in our small town.  He wanted us here so that I could change jobs and find this one that I love.  He wanted us here...well...just because He said so!

I mean, who else takes a job that has her company spending 30 grand to move her and her family 400 miles south only to get laid off 18 months later?  This girl! 

AND He locked us in here because we bought our house at the height of the real estate market only to see prices plummet within six months of moving in...can you say upside down?  I think that you can.

Sooooo...no matter how homesick I was (am?) in those first couple of years, He made sure we weren't going anywhere.

And since my life here is so amazing, I guess He knew what He was doing.  (Duh!)

I still miss that house though.  Just sayin'.

Namaste

THIS is why I quit drinking...

So we all know I've got four years of sobriety under my belt.  Four years ago my kids were 38, 27, 19, 16 and 14 (x's 2).  Essentially, I still had a full house.  The first three were gone but I still had three, very needy and growing boys at home.  They still needed me for a roof, sustanance, guidance, hugs, kisses, some entertainment and a good laugh from time to time.

But I knew...

I knew the day was coming when they'd be gone and I'd be left staring at their empty bedrooms wondering where the time went and drinking myself into a coma.  I could see it!

I was right.

Thank GOD I listened to my gut (and my husband).

We took my youngest (by 21 minutes his brother will tell you proudly) to school this weekend.  He's living on campus.  Now...it's only 20 minutes up the road and I expect to see him frequently (at least to do his laundry) so it's not like he's 3000 miles away (how DO parents do that?) but this one is hard because I know he's the one that will never really be "back".  He'll come home over break and to get a hot meal, but he's chomping at the bit to get on with his life.  He wants to spread his wings. 

His father and I were discussing this the other day on the way to work.  He and I both were out of the house at his age.  Married (not to each other - when the hubs was 18, I was in kindergarten...ewwwwww) and running our own lives.  I left home and got married to get the hell away from the dysfunction that was my home.  He left because that's what you did in 1966.  You got a job, got married and, for him, went to Vietnam.  Regardless of why, we were ready.

When I compare how I felt then to my own kids and how they must be feeling, I shudder.  Because time has taught me that I wasn't ready, that the world was big and ugly and was going to hurt me.  That actually, I didn't know shit even though I thought I was the shit.  But it was also exciting and new and...well...fun.

They're leaving...and they are the last.  But's that is what they are supposed to do...right?  I've always said that my job as their parent was not to be their friend but to raise good people who would be assets to the world.  People of integrity with a loving heart who cultivate goodness and light.

I did my job.  They are great humans.  In fact, they're awesome.  For now.  I don't know what will happen out there and what's more I CAN'T CONTROL IT.  My job as I knew it is over.  I have children with the addictive gene that I'm turning out into the world and just praying. 

I've being reassigned.  My job now is only to support, guide and love them...more and more, only when asked.  They will, one day in the future (way, way future I hope) have families of their own that will be their first priority.  That's how it should be.  They need to complete the cycle.

Have I mentioned that I don't like change?  That I hate not knowing what I'm doing?  This job is new and unfamiliar and it makes me nostalgic for a different time.  And. It. Sucks. Ass.  Because I'm scared.  Scared = fear.  Fear = alcoholic out of control. 

No thanks.

I am SO glad that I don't drink any longer.  This could have been VERY ugly indeed.

Namaste

Out Out Damned Scale

I'm doing it again...I'm becoming obsessed with the scale.  Even during my first Whole 30 I couldn't stay off the damn thing.  It's like a magnet.  I should probably get rid of it but everyone else in the house uses it responsibly except me.  They might jump on if a waistband is too tight or loose where as I jump on when I eat a cookie.  Hmmm - they do it like normal people and I do it like addicted people.  Yep, that's about right.

Anyway, since returning to eating a more normal diet (sans gluten, dairy, legumes and refined sugar products...for the most part), I've slowly but surely slipped back into old habits.  I find myself obsessing about what I'm going to eat and when.  I'm on that frigging scale every morning like clockwork.  I'm constantly concerned with how many steps I've walked today.

Really, it's not the old habits that I'm concerned about as much as I am the space it's taking up in my head.  If it moves in the wrong direction it can ruin my day.  Really Sherry?  You let a square box tell you how your day will be?  And if that's not enough, yet another character in the cast of characters that lives in my head has to chime in...How many steps did I get today?  Today I'm only going to eat healthy.  I wonder if I could have a piece of that birthday cake and how many steps it would take to burn it off?  What is in the house that I can eat?  I should log onto MyFitnessPal and check to see how many calories my Pumpkin Spice Latte has.  Oh my God I am such a loser because I ate on of those amazing cupcakes that my friend brought to the pot luck AND a piece of bread with dinner!

STOP!!!

I can't do this anymore.  I need some peace and quiet.  I want my fucking Zen back!

So once again I'm making a vow to make some changes.  No more getting on the scale.  No more worrying about calories (especially since I know how to eat for my body now).  I'll wear my pedometer (fitbit) and try to get my 10,000 steps a day in but if I don't, it's not the end of the world.  When I wake up in the morning and my first thought is about the size of my ass, I'll gently admonish myself and say something nice to me.  When I go to bed at night and my last thought is about how much I ate that day I will again admonish and gently remind myself that humans must have sustenance to survive.  Eating is a normal part of everyone's life and I've learned what's good for my body and what is not.

I may even start a journal where as soon as I get up in the morning I write something about myself that is positive to jumpstart my day.  Then in the evening I'll write something positive that occurred that day to send me off to dreamland feeling good about me.

I read a book recently that described alcoholism as the symptom of what is wrong with alcoholics.  We drink to numb what's really wrong with us. The longer I'm sober the more I realize how true this statement is.  I am one fucked up human being.

But I'm sober and I'm happy and since 99.9% of the population is screwed up too, I'm in good company.

Namaste

That's Why I Blog....

To anyone lurking out there who's trying to decide whether or not they want to blog - DO IT.  You will never find a community of more wonderful and caring people than you'll find out here.

Thank you all for you responses to my post yesterday.  I'd like to say I'm feeling better today but the truth is...I'm not.  My spirit is still in the toilet and I feel prayed out.  So, in typical Sherry style I've made some decisions based in great part to the amazing advice I received yesterday...

I'm going to meditate and make every effort to listen rather than speak.  Yes, I am prayed out...maybe there's a clue there.  Duh.

I'm going to actively begin seeking another position.  I would LOVE to remain with this company and that's where I'll begin the search.  But I don't want to close ANY doors and whatever comes my way I will view as an opportunity.  Let's be clear here...they aren't exactly beating down my door...but whatever comes is worth a look.

I'm going to look into some things that may offer me the control I'm seeking.  To take back the reigns and maybe do something of which I can be proud.

I'm not going to drink.  Or smoke.  Or eat Ghiradelli Milk Chocolate chips.

I'm going to give myself exactly 36 more hours at this lame-ass pity party I've been attending and then I'm leaving.  No one here I want to talk to anyway.  Except this one whiney-ass woman who probably needs her medication adjusted and I don't want to catch what she has.

Namaste

I Enjoy Being a Girl

I worked from home today because I had a hair appointment smack dab in the middle of the day.  It was the only one I could get before we leave for my nephew's wedding on the 11th.  My stylist is a busy girl and she's taking some time off next week.  I am also fortunate that my job allows this kind of flexibility. 

There was definitely a time that something like this (any kind of "me" time) would light up a need (urge, craving, obsession, compulsion...choose your noun) to go out and, yep, drink.  Because drinking was romantic.  Felling pretty = romantic.  Romantic = date night.  Date night = drinking.  See the logic? 

Well that doesn't happen any longer - and to be honest stopped happening long before I actually quit drinking (there's nothing pretty about a drunk no matter how well her nails are done) - but there's still a small, wee part of me that likes to feel pretty and desired and after a haircut or a pedicure, that part of me whispers, "You deserve to be treated gently.  Like a girl."  Not a mom, not a professional woman, not a wife...but a plain ole girl.  All female and squishy and soft.  With pink roses.  Lots and lots of pink roses. 

That's just me.  There are a lot of woman who don't feel this way and a lot of men who don't even like that in women.  That's okay.  To each their own.  But for me, sometimes I just like the fact that I'm a girl and I want someone to acknowledge that side of me before I have to put her away until the next time.

Shhh...don't tell anyone about this part of me.  Wouldn't want to damage my rep.

Namaste

Choosing a Path

I've been thinking a lot lately about where I want my life to go in my "next phase".  Now that I'm sober and not preoccupied constantly with where, when and how much I can drink, it seems that a whole host of things are available to me. 

Just typing that sentence shocks me but it was what it was.

Anyway...I'm wondering what it is I want to do.  My kids are all pretty much self sufficient.  Soon it will just be the hubs and me and I'm definitely more type A than he is.  I like to be in motion.  I'm really happiest when I'm creating, building, or learning.  Whether it's food, or crafts or school or yoga or work, I need a direction.  I guess I should be more content to just be, but the paradox of that is that to just be just isn't me!  So, in order to be true to myself, I need to follow this convoluted logic and do something.

If you followed that last paragraph then you either know and love me or you should because we share a brain.  You have my sympathy.

But I digress...

I've thought about several paths my life could take -

• I could go to graduate school.  There are a lot of online programs now that wouldn't require me to quit my job (hahahahahaha...oh...sorry) or even travel to a classroom several nights a week.  Problem is, I can't decide what I want to study.  I could go the path of career (and have my company pay a portion of the tuition) and enroll in an Adult Education or Instructional Design Master's program, or I could find one that would allow me to get a Master's in English (which is my passion but would provide absolutely no bang for the buck).  Then there's the fact that the hubs won't shut up about law school.  I was accepted once, a very long time ago, but decided against it after taking some law classes in undergraduate school.  Get over it honey!  The law is not for me!  Plus, all of the above is freaking expensive and I'll have three in college next year.  This one will definitely have to wait.

• I could learn to be a yoga instructor.  Again, a real passion.  The issue here is that the courses and programs are WAY expensive.  Of course I could make a few pennies (that is not an exaggeration) teaching a couple of times a week once I'm certified, but it will likely never pay enough to pay the bills.  Then again, it would be one step further toward the dream of owning my own studio one day that might, if all the planets align in just the right way, pay some bills.  But none of that is bloody likely.

• I could pour myself into my career and work nights and weekends and network and schmooze and make small talk and...oh forget it...there's no way that's happening.

• I could embark on a mission to redecorate and improve our home using as little money as possible.  I could start a blog and chronicle my before and afters. Yawn...I'm bored already.

• I could finally put my nose to the grindstone and write that children's book I've always wanted to write.  Or a book on parenting.  Or a recovery memoir (like they're aren't enough of those on the proverbial shelves).  The problem with that is that I don't know the first thing about writing a book or getting it published.

Wow...as I was reading this over, I noticed how negative this all sounds.  Every time I list something I would like to do, I shoot it down in the same paragraph!  I'm no therapist but I can see some deep seated problems here.  Is it that I have no confidence?  Have I lost my drive?  Is it my parents' fault?

Let's go with the parent thing and just move on shall we?  It's easy and probably the right choice anyway.

Bottom line...In order to make any of this work, I need to DO something.  I guess my first step will have to be to just pick one and begin to move forward.  As they used to say in Mary Kay, "find a way, make a way".   Hey...I quit drinking!  I can do ANYTHING!

Namaste

This is the child...

The first child I gave birth to turned 20 yesterday.

Damn.

This is the child that broke open my heart and released the unconditional love that God had planted inside.  This is the child that touched the place within that heart I never knew I had.  This is the child that showed me the good, loving and nurturing part of my soul.

This is the child that was born a week early according to the doctors.  That was crap.  I knew exactly when he was conceived because we had been trying for so long.  He was born exactly 40 weeks from that date.  He's a punctual child.

This is the child that came into the world face up which meant I had back labor that was excruciating.  I broke all of the capillaries in my face by pushing the wrong way (he was my first!).  I puked.  I whined.  I almost took out a nurse who thought she could motivate me by getting in my face and threatening to deliver him with forceps.  To which I replied, "That's an option?!  I don't care if you take this baby out through my NOSE, just get HIM OUT!"

Fortunately for her, she read the look on my husband's face and backed off.

This is the child that was born with optic nerve hypoplasia and had glasses at 18 months old.  I didn't like the "baby" glasses so I put "youth" glasses on him which were over sized and made him look exactly like the kid from Jerry MacGuire, Jonathan Lipnicki.  Talk about cute!  He was irresistable.  Still is.

This is the child that couldn't say refrigerator.  It came out refrigafrator.  Thankfully I have that on videotape.

This is the child that refused to acknowledge his twin brothers.  He asked me when they were going back.  He drew pictures of our family and didn't include them.  His preschool teachers didn't even know he had brothers.  When the twins went to preschool, for the sake of their teachers, I always dressed one in blue and one in red.  He never bothered to learn their names - he called them the blue brother and the red brother for years.

This is the child that is kind, and loving, and tender.  He pretty much keeps to himself but every once in awhile I catch sight of him helping one of our friend's kids and I'll see the future dad in him.  It brings tears to my eyes.

This is the child that has known what he wanted to do with his life since the age of 12 when I bought him a programming book for teens.  He's all about computers.

This is also the child that has a teacher buried deep inside and once he realizes it, will follow his bliss and become a computer science teacher.  He won't be rich but he'll be happy.

This is the child that occupies the space in my heart reserved only for him.

This is my child.

Happy Birthday son.  I love you.

Namaste.

Be Careful...Your Introvert Is Showing

First of all, I didn't mean to scare you guys with yesterday's post.  I was trying to be "tongue in cheek".  But sure enough, as soon as I posted yesterday, I started thinking of things about which I wanted to write.  Guess it's my own form of mental Drano.

We're beginning our "event" season here at work.  This is when my job gets hairy because I book, manage, attend and pay for (with company money of course) thirty or so events between now and the end of September.  (Can you imagine if I was still drinking????  I'd get fired for sure.)  Since I'm now here full time, I can't just attend anymore, I have to work them with the rest of my crew.  That means idle chit-chat, small talk, smiling a lot and generally just making nice.

To be honest...it's freaking exhausting.

As a closet introvert, I act like an extrovert but in reality, this kind of stuff zaps the hell out of my energy and usually sends me directly to bed when I get home.  Add to that the fact that we have major drama going on in my office right now which, because I'm new and don't have any skin in the game, means I'm the perfect go-between.  Well, that and the fact that I'm old and just one of those people to whom others pour out their hearts.  I cherish that role but, like being "on", it's wears the hell out of my ass.

I thought I was ready for last night but I hadn't factored in the drama from the office.  So I went home depressed, anxious and just plain tired.  So, for the rest of the season, I'm going to be sure that I do a few things.

• Get plenty of sleep.  Tired from lack of sleep coupled with tired from small talk and drama makes for a very unhappy Sherry.  Plus it makes me look like shit and I just can't have that now can I?
• Make plenty of time to just be alone.  Whether that's in my meditation/yoga room, or my bedroom or my car, I know I need this in order to be worth a damn to myself and my family.
• Talk to my family and give them a heads up.  When I get home, especially if I'm late, I'm often bombarded with men telling me what they need, what they did (of course requiring copious amounts of praise for said actions-they're men after all), or just wanting to love on me.  I love all of it!  Even the dogs get into the act, rushing to meet me and requiring their treat-o-the-day from me.  I love that too!  It's just that during our crazy time it can be overwhelming (hell...during our not crazy time it can be overwhelming) so I need a little distance for about ten minutes, then I'm good to go.
• Making weekends about family and recharging my batteries.  I'm really good about being present when I'm home.  I don't even get my Blackberry out of my purse.  But (I hate buts), during the crazy time I'm tempted to check it from time to time.  If I do...the next thing I know I'm sucked into something.  Can't let that happen.
• Eat good food.  These events all have food (and booze).  Sometimes it's good food.  Most of the time it's bar food.  Now, while I love a good chicken wing as much as the next girl, a steady diet of bar food wreaks havoc not only on my hips and skin, but it makes me sluggish and grumpy as well.  Fresh, whole food is a must to keep me sane.
• Lots of yoga, meditation and prayer. 

I learned a lot from my experience last year.  Lots of "what not to do's".  This should be a fun year with a lot of challenges and opportunities.  I'm ready...I just hope my inner introvert is.

Namaste

Serendipity

Funny how God sends you exactly what you need exactly when you need it.  I've been noodling this sugar thing around and around in my head over the last thirty days and thinking about how bad sugar is for me and how I'd like to give it another shot but I didn't think I could do it.  I've been following everyone who's given it a shot this January and I've been so freaking impressed but I still didn't think I had the balls to make it happen for me.

Then Leo over at zenhabits posted "Sticking to a Habit: The Definitive Guide", today which is basically a step by step process to making anything a habit.  This, naturally, got my brain going about how I could possibly make not eating sugar a habit.  The concept of replacing one addiction (habit) with another is not new but can you replace eating sugar instead of drinking with not eating sugar instead of drinking?  Will that even work?

So I'm sitting her ruminating and rolling it around in my head when I should be working (it's Friday!) and the next post I read is my blogger friend over at ByeByeBeer (who I call Bcubed) who posted about her successful graduation from No Sugar January (yay) and where she's headed now that she's done.  More importantly, she spoke about how alike the addiction to alcoholism and sugar is.  Hmmmm...I'll admit to linking the two more than once but quickly shoving the link aside...ignoring it...stuffing that sucker right down.

But then she wrote this lovely post that dug it back up and solidified what I've suspected for a long time now.  The reason I have so much trouble staying away from sugar is because, just like with the alcohol and the booze, I'm addicted.

My rational brain is screaming, "Well DUH!" while my addicted brain is thinking, "Oh shit...she's on to us...hide the cookies."

Now I'm in the place that Bcubed found herself...does that mean I can NEVER have sugar again?

In theory?  Yes, that is exactly what that means.  In reality?  I'm not sure what it means.

Sugar is in every freaking thing on the planet.  Either in a refined form, or the raw form, or the artificial form...it's out there.  But, as the high fructose corn syrup people would tell you, your body really doesn't know the difference and so your insulin levels rise no matter what the form.  (Including natural forms like fruit, but it metabolizes differently so while you should watch it so it doesn't trigger cravings...it's still healthy...in moderation...damn, I'm screwed.)

Anyway, that means that not only will I have to stay away from cookies and cakes and candy and such (no more baking???? Ugh!!!), but I may also have to give up Pepsi Max and my totally artificial but oh so good coffee creamer. 

Of course I could (and likely will) try the moderation route when it comes to the artificial stuff like my Pepsi Max (I only drink 2 cans a day - the rest of the time I drink copious amounts of water) or my coffee, but we all know how good I am at the moderation thing.  I suck at it.  Really...really bad.  If you look up "moderation fail" in the dictionary, there's a picture of me with my face in a chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting.  #nooffswitch (I don't tweet but I like doing that.)

So I'm going to try and do this one more time (look through my old posts...this ain't a new revelation for me) and hope that this time it sticks.  I think I'm going to try some of Leo's suggestions too and try to make NOT eating sugar an actual habit.  I mean, if I can get out of control NOT eating sugar and I'm able to NOT moderate my lack of sugar, then I can do this thing.

Does that make any sense to you, cause it's giving me a headache.

Must be a sugar crash.

Namaste

Serendipity by Milo Adorno

My favorite restaurant in New York City.
My favorite word in the Shakespearean World.
My favorite game of the Lord.

Unexpected things happen by Serendipity.
Things that are meant to be unique in your life’s course.
I was looking for memories, and I found a new love.
Now my life has become full of beauty, full of splendor, full of glow.

Serendipity an action that is a gesture of divine kindness.
A message delivered in a beautiful but strange code.
Serendipity is God’s suggestion for a change that will satisfy your soul.

Milo Adorno

Milo Adorno World

Confessions of a Clutter Purger

I'm good...but not THIS good.

I'm a purger.  I go through my closet a couple of times a year and purge myself of anything I don't wear, haven't worn or purchased by mistake (but leave hanging in the closet because I feel so bad for having wasted the money).  Goodwill loves me.

I do it because clutter, any kind of clutter, weighs on me and makes me feel heavy and lethargic...and it's terrible feng shui.  An unorganized closet means I can't find anything when I need it.  Clutter on my dining room table says we don't have enough room (which we do...we have plenty of room) or we're too lazy to put it away (most likely the case).  Crap stuffed in drawers in an "out of sight out of mind" way doesn't work for me either.  I know it's there and every time I pass by the drawer the little clutter monster that lives inside taunts me with, "Nanny, nanny boo boo...I'm in here all cozy with my clutter friends and you're out there hating it." 

So I purge.  I'll blow through my closet, or the kids' closets or the linen closet or the coat closet, drag everything out I haven't seen anyone wear and dump it into a green trash bag to be hauled to Goodwill.  Or I'll start putting things away on the tables or counters and throwing away stuff that doesn't look important because I can't stand the sight of it laying around anymore!!!

Of course, then I'm accused of throwing away an important document (guilty) or a special shirt (not guilty...it was found in an old suitcase ten years later) when really, if you had put it away or purged it yourself, none of this would have ever happened!

Oh...sorry...I digress.

So now that I've lost some weight, I find myself in an interesting position.  I've purged so much that there's really nothing left in my closet that looks good or fits.  And because when I was really heavy I refused to buy anything of value (that's another post entirely), what is there is looking tired and worn out.  And...we're tightening our belts so an all out shopping spree is not an option; not to mention that if I'm going to lose more weight (which is the plan), spending a bunch of money on clothes right now isn't the wisest decision.

So this weekend I'm going to the local Goodwill store and see what treasures I can find.  There was a time in my life when Channing Tatum in a pair of low slung sweats and no shirt could not have gotten me into a Goodwill store.  Ugh!  Wear other people's clothes!  Puhleeeeeese.

But I've grown.  I'm older and wiser now.  Labels just don't mean what they used to mean to me. (Unless you're talking about shoes.  Shoes are an entirely separate matter.)  And I'm going to the Goodwill in the ritzy part of town so the cast offs are of a much better quality than my local Goodwill.  Plus, by going to the one on the other side of town, I avoid the potential of buying my own stuff back which would be the ultimate irony don't you think?

Namaste

Oh Holy Crap

Tonight is B's Winter Concert.  He has two solos.  One is with the rest of the chorus and one is...gulp...his first Senior Solo.

B's Music Director allows the seniors in chorus to do solos during their two annual performances - one in the fall and one in the spring.  They can choose any song they want, have any accompaniment they would like and sing for as long as they would like.  This has resulted in...um...some...interesting performances.

Oh what the hell, over the last four years I can count on one hand the number of kids who have performed well.  The rest have crashed and burned.  Some crash because they are nervous and look like they are going to throw up.  Some because, honestly, they lack the talent required to do a solo.  But for the vast majority of these kids, it's song selection.  To paraphrase the judges on American Idol, please do not try to do Mariah Carey or Celine Dion for your first ever solo performance...please.

What happens is that ALL of the parents (and the students) in the audience end up internally cringing and visibly willing those students to succeed...and just get the hell off the stage.  It's a learning experience, a confidence builder, a life moment.  But when it doesn't go well it is also very painful for those of us in the audience.  The good news is that most of the kids just want to get it over with so they don't even care how they did, or they were so nervous they had an out of body experience and therefore can't even remember singing.  Add to that the fact that when they are done we ALL break out in thunderous applause and it always ends well.

But tonight...my child, who sings like an angel, who has been on stage countless times and who has even had a co-starring role in the fall play...will do one of these solos for the very first time.  He has chosen "Oh Holy Night" which I have heard him sing a million times and he performs beautifully.  However, when he told me his song choice, my first reaction was..."Oh Holy Crap".  It's a tough song!  What have I told you about song choice?

He said his goal tonight is to make me cry which, no matter what he does I will do.  I just hope I don't puke.

Namaste

A Non-Event Event

My twins are seniors this year and are about to launch into their very last semester of high school.  They both have over a 4.0 average (because of Honors and AP courses) and are working on SAT scores over 1400. The one who wants to be an Athletic Trainer is being mentored by the Athletic Training Director and the one that wants to be a music teacher by the Music Director.  When you think of all the people in this day and age that they could be emulating...I'm pretty pleased with their choices.  They are really good boys young men and the hubs and I are very lucky.

One of the things they have been working toward and looking forward to is being Teaching Assistants for each of their mentors.  They've each waited 3 1/2 years to do this.  They filled out their paperwork last year and got all the requisite approvals.  They've volunteered at every extra-curricular event and program to prepare themselves for something they take very seriously.  Everything was in place and proceeding as planned.

Then their guidance counselor lost the paperwork.  A couple of months ago, other people started talking about their TA assignments and they just happen to be the ones that my boys had been coveting and working toward.  These "others" did not possess the commitment to the roles that my boys did and just wanted an easy A and somewhere to goof off their last semester (in their humble opinions).  It was just not fair!  Lots of angry words and punching of pillows (I won't allow punching of walls but the testosterone has to go somewhere).  I told them to each make an appointment and discuss it with the counselor.  They did...they got nowhere.

"There's nothing that can be done.  The schedules have been set." 

Um...what?  Did you just dismiss my children like that?  Oh...I don't think so.

Now, let's be clear.  I'm not one of THOSE moms.  I do not fight my childrens' battles unless they've already had a shot at it.  I had a very long conversation with each of them where I explained that life wasn't always fair and that this would not be the last time that someone took their spot at something.  I said there would always be a time when someone got promoted before them, or took an assignment they wanted, or got a raise when it wasn't deserved.  That was life.  They nodded and tried to get over it.  They couldn't.

Neither could I.

So finally I called and made an appointment to see the counselor.  The "gatekeeper" at the school tried to convince me that she could help me or that this could be done over the phone.  I was not dissuaded.  I wanted a face to face meeting with the counselor, both boys and me - in the same room at the same time.  I wanted this resolved so that I never had to hear about it again.  I was prepared to open a can of whup ass on that school.  My boys knew it too.  When I asked them if they wanted me or their dad to go they both said in unison, "You!"  (Guess I'm way bitchier than dad...who knew?)

So this morning I put on my battle gear and we all sat down in the counselor's office.  The hubs had seen him the night before and told me that he was sure the guy was feeling guilty and would get this fixed so I didn't expect much of a fight.  What I did not expect and was thoroughly pleased with was a complete non-event.

It seems he'd been thinking about this issue and had come up with a solution.  We moved a couple of classes, called the TA position an Intern and viola', problem solved. 

So while this could have been done a month ago when all this started and it could have been done as a result of my boys having had a conversation like the men that they are and it could have demonstrated how well a calm resolution of issues can be accomplished and could have instilled a new level of confidence in their psyche rather than having their mommy come and fix stuff ..I'm just glad it's over and my boys' last semester in high school will be all that they wanted it to be.

And, secretly, I'm glad that no matter how old they get, sometimes they just need their mom.

Namaste

Perfect is Overrated

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  My daughter and her family came down to be with us (they do it every year) and the house was filled with noise and laughter and love and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

I'm usually a real traditionalist, but this year I relaxed the rules a bit because the Redskins were playing Dallas and since our area of the country seldom broadcasts my beloved 'Skins AND that's the biggest rivalry in the NFL, we ate in front of the TV and it was grand.  (Okay...if the 'Skins had lost it might not have been quite so "grand" but it still would have been good.)  I also decided that next year we would decorate for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving so that all the kids AND the grand kids can help.  The grand kids were thrilled to hear this.

My children looked at me and said, "Who are you and what have you done with our mother?"

Fact is, I've mellowed in my old age.  I'm breaking some of the bonds that tied me to old and ridiculous notions.  I was a believer that if my house and my decorations were perfect then my life was perfect.  That if I could just get the right china, the right tablecloth and the best turkey and make homemade everything...from scratch, Thanksgiving would be perfect.  That if I could place all of the Christmas decorations just right on the tree and throughout the house, then everything would be perfect throughout the holidays.

And if everything was perfect on the outside, I didn't have to spend any time dealing with what was on the inside.

What a crock of shit. 

Now, I was never a momzilla when it came to the holidays.  I always made it about the kids so they actually enjoy some of the traditions I set forth.  For instance, we always have a least two trees, one with white lights and sparkly ornaments (most of them Lenox) and one with colored lights and hand made ornaments with hand prints and face prints and pipe cleaners and googly eyes and lots and lots of glitter.  Now before you go all, awww...isn't that sweet, you should probably know that part of the reason for doing that was so that all of those beautiful, hand made creations would not touch my "perfect" tree.

Not so "awww" now is it?  More like, "Aw...that's really fucked up."

But they love it.  I tried to change it a couple of years ago by buying a cut tree and putting colored lights on it and mixing up the ornaments.  Let's just say it didn't go over well.  I did manage to let go of the outside some years back hand it over to the hubs.  We now look like the Griswolds.  But we are also the most festive and happy house in our subdivision.  Everyone else has boring white lights and our house just makes me smile and go all gooey inside when I come home at night.  I think it's beautiful.

So now at least I'm giving up control and letting others help me trim the tree and put up the lights and string the garland.  It will be lovely no matter what it looks like because they did it.

Too bad it only took me 30 years to figure it out.  Thank you God for keeping me sober so I could figure out who I am and what's important in life.  It's not the things we accumulate and display, its the love we accumulate and share...and that, my friends, is perfect.

Namaste

Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time, in a village in the seat of power of the most powerful nation on earth, lived a little girl.  This little girl was born into a broken family filled with broken people who thought that by bringing this little girl into the world, they could heal their broken selves.  Alas, her birth only served to bring attention to the holes and cracks in their souls and so no healing ever took place...only more sickness and rot came to their hearts and their souls slowly began to die.

Miraculously, the little girl lived among the death and decay, seemingly in a bubble of sunshine and warmth.  No matter how dark and ugly her world was, she saw only light and beauty.  No matter what they did to her, she found a way to look past the act to the person and know that it had nothing to do with her, that they were ill.  She found only pity and sorrow for them in her heart.  She knew that she didn't belong in this world and she waited for the day that God would allow her to escape and find her true purpose.  She held tightly to the light and love within her soul and, hoping to nurture it, she shared it freely with others in spite of the scorn  and ridicule of her broken and rotting family.

In an attempt to escape, she married young to someone who was also born to broken souls.  Unfortunately, his heart was also marred and beginning to die so their union was dissolved.  The girl (who was now a woman), couldn't bear to spend the rest of her life in a land so dark and desolate.  She wasn't sure where the journey would lead, only that it had to lead to light and beauty because without this, she could not thrive.

One day the young woman met a man.  This man brought light and love wherever he went.  People smiled when he walked into a room and everyone wanted to be around him.  The young woman was instantly drawn to this happy and joyful man; she yearned to bask in his light.  She never wanted anything from this man except to be around him.  They became friends and she was glad.

Then one day the man turned his favor to her and began to court her romantically.  She was aghast!  How would she ever be able to live in his world.  She was young and stupid and ugly and he was handsome and brave and kind.  In the dark, dank recesses of the world in which they lived, he shined a light that lit those spaces and warmed those who dwelt within.  She could not resist; for the light and beauty that lived inside of her heart yearned to be joined with his.  She fell hopelessly in love with him and, by some miracle, he with her.

And so they were joined.  The sunshine and love and light the woman had always felt was able to blossom and bloom when joined with his.  She found that life was meant to be this way.  That the broken bits of her past were just a means to bring her to this place.  That God smiled favorably upon her and sent her not only this wonderfully kind and loving man, but allowed her the grace to live out her days with him.

And so they lived...happily ever after...

Namaste

Breaking Dawn

Tonight I will go with a group of crazy, middle aged women to see the last in the Twilight Saga movies.  It's been a crazy and wonderful ride and I'm excited to be going.  I started this journey because my niece insisted that I read the books.  I had heard about the vampires and werewolves and the love story and all I could think was, "Why doesn't he just go ahead and bite her and get it over with?"  Other than Stephen King, I'm not much for supernatural stuff so to say I was a skeptic would be putting it mildly.

Then she sent me the books.

About a week after they arrived, I finally started reading and didn't stop until I had read the entire series twice and the last book, Breaking Dawn, four frickin' times!  I have purchased all of the movies and re-watched the first one at least five times.  I went to see New Moon seven times.  The others I have seen at least twice.  And the funny thing is I'm not one bit ashamed.  Stephenie Meyers is not the best writer in the world (although she improved as the series progressed) and the material is distinctly juvenile but hot damn!  I am addicted to these vamps and their drama.

I think the attraction is the romance factor of the novels.  Many of us remember "bodice rippers" from our past.  Those are the romance novels with the hot guy on the cover with long flowing locks, dressed like a pirate ripping the bodice from some young, chesty female with equally long, flowing locks.  They were written for women, by women (mostly) because they tapped into that fairy tale, sweep me off my feet and ravage my body need that so many of us have (well...at least those hopeless romantic types like me).  The Twilight Saga has all of this plus some supernatural qualities that make "happily ever after" really mean "happily ever after". 

And the movies did a really good job of following the books.  They were able to capture the mood without a four hour long movie (although many of us would have been happy to sit through a four hour long movie...AND pay extra for the privilege).  And since all the actors returned for every movie, the continuity and integrity of the books was maintained.

Look - I am well aware that these books are not literary masterpieces nor are the movies going to win any Oscars; but they make legions of girls, women and a few men (my boys like the whole werewolf battle thing) happy and not take themselves so seriously.  I love Hemingway and Shakespeare and have been known to watch Gone With the Wind over and over, but I also like cartoons, Cap'n Crunch and Legos.  The Twilight Saga fits somewhere in between.

I won't mourn the end like I have the Harry Potter series - that was like watching one of my children grow up and go away - but I am sad that this particular adventure will end this evening.

Then again...I do own all four books on my Kindle and will soon own all five movies...

Namaste

He's Sick...I'm Tired

One of my kids is sick.  Not just a cold sick but hacking up a lung sick.  I thought he had the flu because he's been running a fever but it turns out he has bronchitis.  No less debilitating but not contagious thank God.  Plus, now we all have time to get our flu shots and hopefully avoid the flu all together.  When I thought he had the flu, I was afraid we'd missed our window of opportunity.  Guess we dodged that bullet.

All in all my kids have been fairly healthy in their lives.  My daughter fought bad tonsils (which still need to come out hint hint HINT) and so every spring and most falls she got strep.  My niece and nephew got ear infections a lot and when the nephew got them he'd spike a 104 degree temperature in a New York second.  Scary stuff.

My first born had really bad tonsils that gave him tonsillitis a bunch of times but seldom strep.  Then his younger brother (my youngest twin) became a carrier and proceeded to infect the entire family until we finally found a doctor who was able to knock it out without cutting him.  He still has his tonsils and we haven't had a case of strep in the house for almost ten years.

The middle born (oldest twin) is the one who has bronchitis now.  He got a stomach bug so bad one time he became dehydrated and we ended up in the emergency room.  That was one of those "mommy" times when I told the doctor he didn't know his ass from third base and did what I thought was best.  He kept telling me to do this and do that and call him back (it was Superbowl Sunday).  Finally I said "Screw that fool!" and off we went to the ER.  By the look on the faces of the nursing staff and the speed at which they took him back, I made the right decision.

Now I have a 17 year old man who I'm treating like a five year old.  I can't help it and, to be honest, I don't think he minds.  I was even contemplating crawling into the bed with him last night because his fever was so high, his cough was really bad and I didn't like the way it sounded.  Fortunately the NyQuil knocked his ass out and he was able to sleep.

Glad someone got some sleep.  I must have gotten up four times to check on his fever and his breathing. 

Some things just do not change.

I'm sure I'm violating some kind of boundary when I hover and nurture like this.  I mean really, if the neighbors knew I was thinking about sleeping with my 17 year old they'd likely call CPS and have me arrested.  It's just that I can't NOT take care of my kids and I have no idea what proper nurturing of someone this age really is!

My mother was not exactly a warm and fuzzy kind of woman (although she would have you believe she was) and nurturing was not her strong suit.  Me being sick got in the way of her being able to do what she wanted to do.  Plus, if I was ill then my mother and sister would have to be MORE ill and I'd end up taking care of them!  Because of this I seldom told anyone I wasn't feeling well.  It was better to just suffer in silence and maybe get some rest.

I may go a little overboard when my kids are sick.  We have always been fortunate enough to have good health insurance so going to the doctor was never a problem.  Since I worked from home most of their lives I could always be there if they had to stay home.  I snuggled, treated, administered and generally nursed them back to health.  I filled eyedroppers with pink liquid and held noses until they swallowed.  I put thermometers in places I never thought I would to get an accurate temperature reading.  I handed out Popsicles for fevers and taught them how to swallow Advil (the miracle drug in my house).  I slept sitting up so that I could hold them close to my chest to monitor a fever.  I sat in steamy bathrooms and ruined perfectly good hair to combat croup.

Fact is, they're getting older and don't need this level of care anymore for pretty much anything.  So if I find that one tiny, little time that they actually do need me then by God I'm going to jump on it and do my job.  And if that leaves me a little tired in the morning that's okay.

I'm used to it.

Namaste

Anticipating Autumn

I am so over summer.  I really should live on the west coast.  I thrive when temperatures are about 72-85 degrees with no humidity in the spring/summer and 45- 65 in the fall/winter.  If fact, San Franisco temperatures would be just fine by me even though everyone thinks its too cold there in the summer...I would love it.

Instead I live in the Southeastern United States which is hot and humid pretty much 9 months out of the year.  Sometimes we get a year when the humidity stays relatively low and living here is glorius.  This has not been one of those years.  This year it was crazy hot with extremely high levels of humidity which began in late April and continued through July.  August brought lower temps but the same humidity.

I hate humidity.

No really...I really hate humidity.

I am ready for sweaters, woodsmoke, falling leaves, mums, hot chocolate and football.  The way the sun is a little lower in the sky and days get shorter.  The way the leaves crunch under my feet as I walk the dogs.  The palpable anticipation of the holiday season.  The cooler temperatures.  The absence of humidity.

The good part about living here is that in the fall and winter you can pretty much be outside with only a sweater or a light jacket until February.  Then you hibernate for a month or so before the weather begins to warm up and it's time to venture out again.  The bad part is that fall will not really begin (at least not the way I like it) until late October.

The first year we were here I waited and waited for the weather to break so that I could go and buy mums and pumpkins to decorate my front porch.  September came and went and my petunias continued to bloom.  October came and my impatiens continued to bloom.  Finally, at the end of October (almost to Halloween) it got cold enough for me to go shopping for mums.

There weren't any.

Apparently, around these parts you have to get your mums at the "normal" time, which is mid September, even though you're buying them in flip flops and tank tops.  Then you have to keep them in the shade until it cools off or they will fry in the sun.

Wait...what?

So that's what I'll do this year because I can always put them on my covered and shady porch, crank down the AC, put on a sweater and pretend it's fall.

Don't judge.

Namaste

For my friend bugerlugs.

Mish-Mosh

I don't have a real topic today so it's just a bunch of mish-mosh.

Watched my son and his ex-girlfriend do the property switch the other night.  It was heart wrenching.  They dated for three years and since high school romances are counted in dog years...that's a long time.  I felt bad for him because he felt like crap.  I felt bad for her because I knew her heart was breaking, even though the breakup was her idea.  Breakups suck no matter what your age.

The oldest child at home is loving community college.  I'm trying really, really hard not to say, "I told you so".  I feel I'm going to lose that battle soon.

If I have to hear one more person tell me about their trip to the beach I think I'm going to hurl all over their shoes.  Not because I begrudge them the trip...everyone should go to the ocean at least once a year, but because I haven't been for more than a couple of hours in over five years.  I need at least a week - oceanfront - in a house - a nice house.  Now you know why I haven't been in over five years.

My nephew and his girlfriend are having a baby.  I let him go "home" and out of my sight for a month and he knocks up his girlfriend.  They just found out it's a girl.  The timing isn't optimal but I'm secretly very excited.  He's going to make a great dad.  AND I'm already shopping for cute girly things.

I'm loving my new space and I'm in there every evening praying, practicing yoga and even meditating from time to time.  I can go in there and my blood pressure drops.  My son came in last night and said, "Wow, it smells good in here!  Like fresh air."  Yes son, that's what a girl's space smells like.

I found some samples of Retin A in my drawer that my dermatologist gave me at my last visit (I won't tell you how long ago that was).  I've been using them and my skin looks better than it has in months.  I'm going to try and stretch the samples until my new insurance kicks in and I can make an appt with the doc.  If the samples don't hold out, I'm going to their office and beg for more until I can get an appointment.  I have no pride.

Still don't know what was up the boss' behind yesterday but everything is back to normal today.  I think my head is even screwed back on properly.  Jury's still out on that one.

There are lots of other people in the blogosphere writing about "moods", "attitudes", and depression (me being at the head of the line).  I don't know squat about astrology but I know there is a blue moon this weekend.  I wonder if that has anything to do with it?

I have found some great new bloggers recently that I want to share with my millions and millions of readers (she says with tongue firmly in place in cheek).  Check them out if you get a chance, they have a lot to share and I'm loving sharing it with them.

all that heaven will allow
Running On Sober
Tired of Thinking About Drinking
Trying One Day At A Time
Facing Facts About Myself

And if you've come across any great blogs you'd like to share please do!

Namaste

"There never was a great soul that did not have some divine inspiration."

~Cicero

Mood Swings and the Post-Menopausal Woman

I've been having some fairly wild mood swings for about the past week.  I thought that once you were post-menopausal the mood swings and the hot flashes would taper off and eventually quit.  Well not for me.  Not only are the hot flashes back but the mood swings are crazy!

It seems as though the slightest thing can send me either into anger or despair.  Then it takes me a while to shake it off and get back to normal.  I'm not a superstitious person but I swear this all started after my Zen post the other day.  Maybe that's the universe's way of telling me I'm not as "zen" as I thought I was.

Sheesh!

For example, I came home this weekend from being out with my boys and, as usual, the counters in my kitchen as well as the kitchen table were a mess.  Now this always aggravates me and I've been known to throw a tantrum or ten about it but usually it's been brewing for a while before I blow.  Not this time.  I walked in the door, took one look and proceeded to take off the hubs' head as soon as he spoke (then he got all passive-aggressive which made me even angrier).  In the moment I was thinking, "WTF is this?"  But of course that didn't stop me.  I finally retreated to my yoga room for a much needed attitude adjustment, emerging later only slightly better.

0 to bitch in 1.4 seconds flat.

Next was my tirade on a friend's blog which I wrote about here (and have blessedly let go) which was really not like me at all.  And let me say thank you to all who commented and brought me in from the ledge.  That took over 24 hours to shake off and if it hadn't been for the post and comments, I'd likely still be carrying that sucker around in my gut.

Double sheesh!

So my boss snapped at me today.  Not the first time but the first time it was directed to something I did.  It stung and I'm still not sure what brought it on but I should be able to attribute it to how she was feeling in the moment rather than a fatal flaw in my character.  I've been in the workplace long enough to know that if you work with people long enough they become like family and get on your damn last nerve sometimes.  Apparently, in that moment, I got on hers.  I should be able to shake it off and move on...she has.  Note the use of the word "should".  It's been sitting here churning in my gut all afternoon.  And she's out so I can't even talk to her about it.  (Which is probably God's way of protecting me from myself right now because she would likely think I have lost my freaking mind!)

Now, let's be clear, I am no stranger to this feeling.  It happened to me on a regular basis from the moment I began drinking.  Not being able to remember what happened the night before and worrying yourself to death until you could see the person (or people) and gauge by their reaction what class of ass you'd made of yourself.  Doing something so out of character that you can scarcely believe you did it and then being so remorseful about it that it would take days to rid yourself of the guilt.  Bringing up an event in conversation just to see if anyone brought up your behavior.  Having your spouse tell you something that you said or did and then cringing and feeling that familiar feeling of "Oh...my...God.  When will this stop?"

But!  Since I've been sober I have loved the feeling of never having to worry about that kind of thing again.  Except that I guess I misjudged that bitch menopause and her impact on my moods, emotions and inability to shut the fuck up.

So, until I can get some control over these moods and their impact on those in my general vicinity, I think I will learn to breathe before I answer, comment, type (except in this blog), or respond.  I may even breathe before I make eye contact since I've been told that my face gives away my emotions like TMZ gives away celebrity gossip.

I probably should carry a paper bag with me - I may cause myself to hyperventilate with all this breathing I'm going to be doing.

Namaste

"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt."

~ Mark Twain

Sunday's with Jenny - Week 2

Down 1.8 pounds.  I'll admit to being just a tad disappointed but then I checked myself and was very happy.  The goal is between 1 and 2 pounds per week...well duh...last time I checked 1.8 was on the high side of that scale.  Jeez.

Last week was odd.  I'm still in the honeymoon phase of an eating plan which, in case you've never been on a diet...you know...if you just landed from another galaxy, means that right now it's all sunshine and roses.  Things are new and shiny and my commitment is strong.

Prior to this...that usually lasted a whopping 2 weeks for me.

Anyway, last week was good.  Jenny food tastes really good and the plan allows for enough "sweet and salty" to satisfy that need for me.  It also allows for as many non-starchy vegetables as you want (which I love) and fruit to supplement the day.  Overall a healthy, balanced and filling diet.

Except that I was hungry.  Sometimes really hungry.  Not pass out starving but really hungry.  It usually hit between breakfast and lunch and then again in the evenings after dinner.  Well, you may ask, what did you do about it? 

Not a damn thing.  In the morning I just got a cup of coffee which filled my stomach and held me over till lunch.  In the evening?  I went to bed early.

In the morning it's really about hunger.  At night?  It's about habit, boredom and the fact that my family room is literally part of my kitchen and vice versa.  So removing myself from the situation was the best thing I could do.

I also added Soupetizers to my menu this week.  They are little broth based soups you have with dinner.  I had one last night and it really helped to stave off the hunger.  But I still went to bed early because I got bored and wanted to eat.

Breaking a habit is tough!  (She said with a high degree of sarcasm.)

So I'm ready for week 2.  I swear this time it's different.  I'm really very Zen about the whole thing.  When I start thinking about food I recite this mantra, "it's only food...it's only food...it's only food".  It puts me back in the right frame of mind.

I'm eating to live, not living to eat.

Namaste

"Gluttony is an emotional escape, a sign something is eating us."

  ~Peter De Vries