2010: my year of highs, lows, and blessed in-betweens

There's no doubt that 2010 was a rough year. A lot of big changes in a life that already felt changed enough. But, like life tends to be, it wasn't all bad. In fact, I think this is the year that the stage has been set for a lot of exciting things that will be happening in 2011. I have learned a lot--most of all how to grow wiser from my mistakes, how to work to be happy, and just how very, very human I am.

So, here's my quick year in review--the highs, the lows, the happy in-betweens.

January: I learned to snowboard! Finally! An experience that showed me that it sure hurts to fall and fall and fall again, but that I can always get back up.

 I threw so many fun parties this year! I really do have the best group of friends for being silly with. This was my friend Jenn's 80's themed birthday. So much neon :)

 February: I realized this would be my last year home with both of my little guys. So many fun memories and happy daily events--laughter, blanket forts, coloring books, Nutella sandwiches with the crusts cut off, Caillou. I loved,too, the priviledge of homeschooling my L through Kindergarten.

March: I went back to California, flying that same path through the air that I had so many times during the ten months I dated Haute Cakes. This time it was just as a friend that I went to visit him. And it was good. Different, but good. The color of the SoCal sky the days that I was there seemed to reflect my pondering mood--how people move on, how they change, how I change, and what that all means to me at this stage in my life. That lesson goes for the general state of my loopety-loo love life this year. I won't say more than that since I alway manage to hurt someone or other's feelings when I talk about that stuff, but I'm hoping that's one of the first issues to resolve itself in the new year.

March was also Ninja's very cool blacklight birthday party. Who knew adults could have so much fun completely sober?! :)

In April, the cat that the renters behind us abandoned when they moved came to live with us. I swore I would never own another cat after mine of 13 years died, but Blake has taken to our family and the boys love him. I learned that there's always room in your heart to love one more thing.

I adored working with the Shakespeare After School program. The kids were wonderful, the work was difficult but rewarding, and I was teary eyed as they took their final bow. Never has a troupe of 10 and 11 year olds performed The Tempest on a shoestring budget so brilliantly!

May: I still get goosebumps when I look at this picture! It was such a relief to finally get some projects done around the house I'd been meaning to for so long. The laundry room got painted and my backyard got the hot tub removed and this gorgeous (very cheap) makeover. Loved remembering how fun it is to work with someone to get a project tackled, too.

 More fun with friends! I learned my special skill in paintball is...hiding. And that were I ever in a real war, I would have no behind--because it would have been shot off.

May was the month I colored my hair really red and got removable, inexpensive hair extensions to get me through the awkward stage of growing the A-line bob out. It was fun to look different and to have the power to reinvent my physical appearance to reflect the changes going on inside of me.

This picture was taken in May, but seems to reflect a truth of this year. Ninja, being one of my best friends, had already been around for almost a year, but 2010 was the year he became commonplace around here. He can get the boys to do things that I can't, teaches them things that I wouldn't have a clue how to, makes us all belly laugh regularly, and fixes everything that breaks. I've even just about forgotten that he's 8 years younger than me.

June still makes me smile. I loved, loved, loved my 35th birthday carnival! Four months of saving for 3 hours of pure joy. My own cotton candy machine, snow cone maker, bounce house, and balloon sculptor. Oh--and the costumes! The amazing costumes! I don't think I can ever top it! I don't think I want to try! So happy for my sweet friend M who shared it with me and helped with everything!

Glad that I got to have that wonderful birthday since a week later, during step aerobics, I broke my foot. The first bone I've ever broken. Six weeks hobbling about in a boot kind of put a damper on summer. No skateboarding. No swimming. Though, I did ride a horse. I wish someone would have taken a picture of me mowing the lawn with my boot-cast wrapped in a bread bag :). I learned that I can push on, even in pain and moving at half-speed.

July: Attempting to eat the six foot banana split with my kids. Seriously--more like one of the highlights of my entire life! :) I don't eve care that we failed miserably!

The day of the lemonade stand! I haven't had one with my kids since my mom was still alive and came to buy every last cupful they had. Luckily, there was a construction crew working nearby who cleaned us out. This was my boy squad's "desperate pleading" pose :)

August was the month I came to terms with the fact that I might not be able to keep my house for much longer. It's still a "who knows?" situation, but--despite my deep love for this place and the security it represents--I've come to peace with maybe having to let it go. God will take me where he wants me to go, and let me stay when I finally get to the place I'm supposed to stay. That, I can trust.

August was also the month I FINALLY broke my 22 year old camping curse! I went, I slept in a tent, I ate stuff cooked over a fire, I canoed, I mountain biked...and I (and all involved) lived to tell the tale! Woot woot!

I sent my little L off to first grade in August. I've never had to send one to school so early. It did my troubled heart good to see him love it so much. He got a great teacher and is thriving. He even cried on the snow day we had this year because he hates missing school!

August (and the whole summer, actually) also brought my involvement with an amazing writers group. I was blessed to come in contact with those who would help me recognize and develop my talent in a very serious way, and to guide me toward my decision to apply for the Master's Program--another one of those potentially exciting things to happen in 2011.

Had such fun on my E's birthday in October making pizza and wearing silly hats. His birthdays always mark the beginning of Fall, too--my favorite time of year.

Four hours, one hundred peacock feathers, and ten hot glue-burned fingers later...and I had my super cool Halloween peacock costume.This Halloween dance I went to on the 30th was way better than the locking my keys in the van and ruining trick-or-treating ACTUAL Halloween. But I can even laugh about that now, as can my kids. Reminding me of the lesson that time softens all tragedy, and smooths out every rough day.

November 2010, I became the mother of a teenager. A super awesome, completely helpful, makes me smile every day teenager. His most anticipated gift? A Facebook page of his own! Ha! Of course, I can remember him as a newborn like it was yesterday. Lesson learned: treasure every day because they fly by quickly.

Then there was the Thanksgiving that no one came and we had no turkey. Illness and overscheduling kept family (and their turkey) from coming as planned, and--though we were sad--we got through alright. And had lots of company by dessert. I hope my boys learned the lesson in that day: Plan B isn't always so bad.

Decmeber was the month of sweet, tender mercies. The goodness of others, frankly, left me in awe. Kind blog readers sent some extra money my way. Completely unexpected and very humbling. (and please, don't take this as a solicitation to send me money--just know that those of you who did. Wow. Just wow. Your thank you cards are on their way saying more than that!). A secret Santa left presents for us and filled our hearts with excitement and a desire to serve likewise. And Ninja Claus made a special visit with waaaay too many gifts. We were all spoiled and happy, and blessed--as always--to understand the real message of the holiday.

I don't know what's ahead for the boy squad and I this new year, but I know that as long as we have each other and our faith...we can't go wrong.

Here's to a whole new batch of lessons to learn this year, and a whole new set of adventures to have.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

purpose-driven whining

I got an anonymous commenter the other day on one of my older posts. He/she/it said "Stop Whining." Well, thank you Anonymous! I will try to send help since you are clearly being held hostage and FORCED to read my blog against your will. Sheesh. I'm not mad, just laughing at the variety of rather mean comments left over the years under the cover of anonymity. You can't please everyone.

I realize much of what I have written lately is heavy, kind of sad, and yes...maybe even borderline whiney. This is my place to vent. To let out the sadness and the anger and the fear and the frustration like a long, calming exhale. I let it go with a little prayer that writing about what I am struggling with and what I'm learning in those struggles might benefit someone else besides myself. When something happy or funny happens or comes to mind, I am just as excited to share, and hope that gets recognized.

I start classes again today--two intersession ones to make up for the 4 extra credits I was denied taking next semester. Learning about Media and Entrepreneurial Marketing wasn't exactly how I planned on spending my Christmas vacation, but seems to be another one of those things that "just is" and will have to be worked around--and which will probably be more interesting than I expect. I asked my ex if he would be willing to take another 6-9 evening with the boys in addition to the two he already has, just until the break is over. There was also an entire Friday I needed him to take them for an all day workshop class I was required to be at. AND I had to sit down to draw up a chart to finalize who will be watching my little J and at what days/times next semester. Nothing like carving up your children between their parents as if they were Christmas ham, eh?

If there is any one thing I will probably struggle my entire life to forgive Brad for, it would be that, through his unabashed selfishness, he took my boys away from me, took away my blessing of full-time mothering, and forced me to hand them off to others for waaaay too long, waaaaay too often. Good, kind caretakers, yes---but none of them me. And there is just no substitute for mom.


When I was married, I understood that Brad worked. He worked very, very hard for the benefit of the boys and me. I was not always happy about his long hours; in fact, it was one of the few things we argued about. I missed him, the kids missed him, and I worried constantly about the effects that such long hours and very little sleep were having on his physical health. But I also understood that because of his hard work, I was blessed to stay home with the boys. I never took that blessing lightly. I liked to believe that we were first in Brad's heart, but that life's circumstances required him to put work first. I got that. We adapted. He worked, I took care of the boys and the home. We made good use of our time together. It was a good system.

And now--once I enter the workforce, I, too, will have to put work first. And Brad will still have to put his work first. And then who will be around to put the boys first? Yes--they can continue to be "first in my heart", but that doesn't mean that I will be available to stay with them when they get sick. Or that I could go to their musical performances in the middle of the day. All the little hugs and kisses and funny things I get to be a part of now, because I'm here--I won't get to be here for anymore. I am in tears thinking of all that I might, and most likely WILL, miss out on. It's just not fair to them. Or to me. I don't even have the benefit of my own mother--who would have been the best substitute--still living to help me.

It makes me really, really, really, really angry--like wishing I had something to throw and break angry--and I can count on one hand all the things that have ever flared my rage to that level. You don't mess with my babies.

I am going to continue to give the gifts to my children that I can. Make the best of little moments and simple traditions. Tell them every day that I would like nothing more in the entire world just to be home with them and hope they understand that I work out of need, not desire. I pray to be able to find some kind of job that will allow me to keep similar hours as them. And I pray that they still have a chance at feeling happy and safe in their childhoods. Any prayers you want to add to mine would be greatly appreciated. As Harriet Beecher Stowe said: "When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hold on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn."

One of these days things are bound to turn for the boy squad and me...because we've been holding on in that tight place a long, long time now. So call me a whiner if you will, but my heart is breaking and I use these words to release that break--and whatever portion of my anger will go with it, and seek a healing solution.

why i am glad my children are smarter than i: the christmas edition

I wonder how on earth I made it through my childhood without my mother strangling me? Not that I was a bad kid, I was just fiercely independent and often left with too much time on my hands and not enough adult supervision--therefore, I took to acting a lot on whatever made sense at the time without maybe giving it the thought I should. I could make that realization into something deep--but oh my heck! Have you read my blog lately?! Way too much deep for a while :) So, let me tell you a little story from my childhood involving one of those "less than well thought out" decisions.....

I was 8 years old. It was nearly Christmas day, probably about Dec. 16. Grandma and Grandpa's presents had just arrived in the mail and were placed under the tree, atop the small pile of gifts that had been accumulating, the ones that drew me in like a siren song to touch and shake them all on a daily basis.

Something woke me up in the middle of that night--maybe a bad dream, maybe I was just cold--I can't remember exactly. My routine when this would happen would be to go into my mom's room, wake her up,  and have her come put me back to bed with a few comforting words or an extra blanket. So, that night, as usual, I made my way down the hall in the dark, opened her door, went to shake her awake and....she wasn't there.

Now--this is the part where the "no thinking" comes in. I can recall, in my still half-asleep state, not really being afraid that my mom wasn't there. Normally, my next line of defense would have been to wake my 18 year old sister, but she had gotten married that August. So, I did the next best thing my 8 year old brain could conceive: I found the list of emergency numbers that was tacked up by the rotary-dial phone, and...I called the police. Someone should know that my mom was missing, after all, right? In fact, that's just what I told them: My mom is gone. She's not in her bed.

Then, I waited. And I figured since I was awake and apparently abandoned, hey! I should open up a few of those presents under the tree to console me. I unwrapped a plaid blouse and jeans my grandparents sent to me, and a make your own lipgloss kit. Then, feeling bad that I was the only one having all the fun, I woke up my 6 year old brother and invited him to join me. Beacause 8 year old me was thoughtful like that.

He and I weren't too far into our 3am Christmas present party when the Police knocked on the door. We pointed to where mom's room was, they made their way back, and flipped on the light. And there....was my mom. Sleeping on the opposite side of the bed than she usually did. Hmmm. I hadn't thought to check THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BED! Poor Mom sat up all panicked and confused with her curler-adorned head. The policeman reported something to the effect of "minors safe" into his walkie talkie and explained to my mom why he was there.

Honestly, I don't remember what happened next. If I got yelled at, I edited it out of my memory bank. I do remember wearing my new outfit to school the next day, though, and that talk my mom had with me about when and when not to call the police. I filed it away with the talks she had given me about not having impromptu yard sales with good things (like our furniture) from around the house. And the one about not jumping off the roof onto the bean bag. These were important things for me to learn, I'm sure.

So, you will not hear me complaining about my kids waking up before the sun on Christmas morning, or much else that they do--because they appear to be blessed with a greater level of forethought than I as a child, and thus far I have managed 13 years of parenting without a single call placed to the police (only the fire department). The End.

Merry Christmas!!!

writing the story that only i can write

This year in my Fiction class, we were offered a challenge: to write that story that only we can write. My professor knew such a story was in every one of us. That thing that only we can know about, that only we can make an empathetic experience out of. Now--it was a Fiction class so he didn't want a bunch of autobiographical stuff. We were expected to change a few things around, elaborate and exaggerate where needed, but all while still staying true to what about the story was uniquely "us".

And I took the challenge.

And I wrote about my divorce. And who it has made me.

I wrote the story back at the beginning of October. The very ending took place in winter, and I had to try and remember what my backyard looked like with snow. Then, two months later, we got  our big blizzard and I was able to take a photo of the exact scene I had written about from memory:

Here is the winter scene ending from my story "The Weight of What is Thrown" :

The snow finally stops mid-afternoon. There has to be at least a foot, settled with a deep, almost palatable quiet. It drifts high against the fence, follows the slant of the roof, ghosts the outline of the swing set. She watches the neighbor’s cat pick its way across the back yard, lifting and shaking its paws at each step. The still scattered pieces of patio furniture look startled and naked where the snow parts to reveal their wrought iron frames. Everything visible sags and adjusts beneath this sudden, added weight.


The walks will have to be shoveled, she thinks. That had always been his job. Not because she had demanded it or he had claimed it, it just was. She can barely remember the last time she held a snow shovel, though in the recollection of it her hands are very small. And she can feel no sensation of using it, just holding it.

Suddenly, more than anything, she wants to shovel snow.

She goes back into the family room and positions herself in front of the TV. “Put on your boots and coats, boys. Let’s go outside.” There are some complaints about their show not being over, about how cold it will be, but all three stand and make their way obediently toward the closet.



Stepping out the front door, she sinks nearly up to her knees before the snow compresses enough to bear her weight. At first, the boys walk directly behind her, waiting for her to make a print they can step into. Then Zachary gets brave enough to try on his own and his brothers follow, laughing as they lunge forward into the front yard, trying to stay upright.

The snow shovel is in the garage, hanging in a row with the rake, the hoe, the broom. She retrieves it and starts at the sidewalk in front of the house. The thin blade slices through the top layer of snow. She lifts and lets it slide down the incline of the shovel face. It has not gone deep enough to reach the cement so she digs in again. The next shovelful she places is mixed with slimy, now blackened leaves. The ones she’d left unraked in November. She plunges the shovel again, harder this time, and it goes straight to the concrete. The vibration of plastic scraping solid travels up her arms. Lift, drop.

Her wrists feel the strain first, shaking to steady the load. She keeps moving up the sidewalk, throwing the snow over the round of her shoulder. Her back hunched and rigid, sweat beneath her collar steaming into the frozen air. She has reached the driveway.

Her body tries to persuade her: “That is enough. It is time to stop now. We need to go lie down.” But she ignores it. Her strokes grow determined, wild—she tosses the powder high, the frost from it erupting in clouds of glitter and spark around her. The glare of absolute white, intensified by the unshielded sun, stings at her eyes until silvery discs begin to whir at the edges of her vision. Legs throb from hip to ankle. Lungs, stretched and iced, sharp-ache with each inhalation.

She pictures what her mother would look like doing this. Her mother--so capable. She could change the battery in the car, mend a hole in a shirt, replace shingles on the roof. Maybe it wasn’t done in a pretty way, but it was done. Suddenly, all the memories of the chaos and unrest of her childhood home merge and roll into a new one—the feeling of safety she had always had knowing her mother was there, knowing she would never give up. It was all safety. How had she not remembered that feeling before?

She’s nearly done now. Four more feet. Three. Two.

She reaches the front door, steadies herself against it with one hand. Breathless, she turns to survey all she has done. A clear path from beginning to end. She is smiling. Not a forced smile, but one she hasn’t felt in a long time. It stretches at the muscles in her face; pulls at her lips, numb from the cold.

The older boys are hoisting the head onto a squat snowman; Luke snapping low twigs off the crabapple tree to use as arms. The ground around them is rubbed with prints of snow angels. Elijah sees she is done. “Good job, Mom!” he calls, his brothers echoing the praise. She does a little bow for them.

There is nothing of the past in this moment, she realizes, no fearful future. Just the truth of clean, right-angles of concrete. Of the V of winter geese passing overhead, long sinews of their necks pulled pale and straight. Of the sky, cloudless and shockingly blue. Melting snow dripping off the roofline. The boys’ laughter. Her heart, bucking hard inside her chest, reminding her she is alive. She takes her children inside.

And there you go. There are the things I have learned for sure from my divorce: Not how to exist happily living and parenting on my own. Not how to wake up excited for each new day. Not how to provide for everyone. Not how to trust and fully love again. Not how to be patient. Not how to understand God's unique way of trying his children based on what is best for them. But how to live in a moment. How to suck out every drop of joy that it offers, independent of the past or future. How to push on even when I don't feel like it, because my boys need me, and they mean more to  me than any self-pity I might feel entitled to wallow in.

The rest of those lessons--the ones about providing and trusting and anticipation and understanding and loving--I'm sure will be learned in due time, too. I have already conquered bits and pieces of them, and I keep a place in my heart open for them to be learned as certainly as I have learned the lesson of the joy of the present.

All the best to you...in the moment. :)

still, still, still

We're in the midst of a snow day here. 7 1/2 inches last night. School was cancelled for both the boy squad and me. Contemplating going out to shovel the driveway but it seems pointless when the snow is still coming down as if my city were a snow globe that someone keeps shaking and shaking and shaking.

So--that means we're not going anywhere for the day. We've got enough milk, bread, and  dark chocolate to get us through (that last one is for me :) ). And of course, playing in the snow is always fun. So I'm OK with not going anywhere for a day...maybe two...but honestly, I don't think I could bare the thought of being stuck where I am for much longer than that.

And wow! if that thought didn't get me thinking this morning.

I am of the opinion that most addictive/compulsive behaviors result from the inability to be still. When you're hurt or angry or overwhelmed--can you honestly sit with those emotions without running to anything else? I know I have struggled with that all my life, being someone who FEELS so intensely as I do. In my early teenage years, I ran to alcohol (thank goodness I got that problem "fixed").  In my later teenage years to early 20's, I ran to some false sense of control I had created with anorexia. At other times in life, I have ran away to exercise, to men, to my computer, to television, to books, to shopping. Yeah. I'm OK admitting this because at least I've acknowledged this about myself and can try to keep ahead of it: I'm a runner-awayer. A cover-upper. A perfectionist. Moderation is not an easy concept for me to handle and I struggle with keeping myself away from addictive-compulsive behaviors.

I feel my 35  years have already been packed with a life or two worth of experiences. I feel like an old soul. Sometimes, I know, I even look it. So take this advice as if getting it from some wise man on a hill: Acknowledge a higher power than yourself. Obviously, for me, that is God, but I realize some people aren't quite ready to enter into a relationship with their Maker, and to them I say, find a thing you DO feel is greater than yourself, and get in contact with him/her/it. And then sit.

When everything inside you is screaming for you to get up, run away, do something, go somewhere, get rid of the discomfort...Just sit. And be still. And let that Higher Power talk to you. See if you can do it for 5 minutes, then 10, then 15. Until you reach a point where you are at peace and could sit there all day if you had to, or wanted to. Try it even when you're happy and want to eat a quart of Ben and Jerry's to celebrate or want to scream your accomplishments to the world. Just sit. Be still.

I can't always do it. It's a process that needs rediscovering and refining again and again because those trials and those temptations come hard and fast and are forever re-inventing themselves. But I know as I learn to master this process, I learn to master myself. And that's the most peaceful feeling in the world.

gratitude, schmatitude

Sadly...that has been my attitude waaaay too much this last six months. It has felt often times painful to be grateful. I suppose after fighting for so long and feeling like I'm making very little headway, and after loss compounded on top of loss....I got scared to be thankful. I didn't want to be too grateful for anything because who knows how long it would be around until it was taken from me, too. Being really, really, really grateful for something and expressing it to the best of my ability--as I had all my life-- didn't seem to be the lucky talisman for keeping the blessing around the way I hoped it would.

That's a hard thing to admit.

Because I know very well that ungrateful people are not pleasant to be around. That hopeless people are dark and bitter. I do NOT want to be the star of my own tragedy.

I don't think I'm to that point yet. My heart still overflows with love for all that I have, it just does it in a more cautious manner than it ever has before. But as a reminder to myself, these are the things I am grateful for most of all this Thanksgiving Eve...

I am so grateful for my children: for their smiles and their smells and their laughter and their messes. I am grateful that they are intelligent, talented, and strong in their faith. I am grateful they are strong and healthy. I am grateful that they love me, no matter what, and that they teach me something new every single day--usually patience related :). I would be a mere shadow of what I am today without the blessing of parenthood.

I am grateful for the home I still have to live in. For the way it embraces me each time I walk in the door. For all its myriad soft places to land. To rest. For its cupboards full of food and walls full of pictures. Grateful for the family and dear friends who often gather here and the memories we have made together.

 I am grateful for the seasons, each with their own particular beauty. And that I am able to go out and engage myself in the outdoor world around me--drinking in all the smells and sounds and textures.

I am grateful that we live in a time where we can all do more than survive--where we can concentrate and appreciate such luxuries as music, fashion, art, poetry, and television sitcoms. Grateful, too, for this country that allows such freedom of expression.

I am grateful for the talents I have been given. There are many, and though I haven't--in my opinion--mastered any of them yet, I am grateful for opportunities to grow and share them. Writing, especially, has been such a blessing in my continual healing. I am thankful for the ability to express myself and interpret the world around me in words, and for those people who I have been blessed to have in my life who have made me a better writer.

I am grateful for a mother who taught me to laugh and appreciate the humor in everything. So many times when I have felt angry or overwhelmed, laughter has been the key to putting everything back into perspective.

I am thankful, above all, for my God. When it felt I had lost everything, I knew, because of my faith, I still hadn't really lost everything. Faith has kept me going through trials that should have crushed me. It has kept me humble, given me access to an intelligence beyond my own through scriptures and prayer, and made me know that my burdens did not have to be carried alone. It has kept me mindful that this life is but a blink in the scope of eternity. Everything I am asked to pass through is an opportunity to be refined and made into a more perfect Follower of Him.

Yes, Life is good. Life continues to scare the pants off me right now....but I cannot deny that it is good. And I am even pretty certain that it will only get better.

***Wishing you all the Happiest of Thanksgivings and the gift of gratitude daily.***

well, that was new

It's Thanksgiving vacation! A whole week without school for me or my kids. And what am I doing? Editing my grad school portfolio until 2 or 3 am every night. Shoveling sidewalks. Making trips to the orthodontist. And, on this--the freezing-est cold morning with icy slick roads, I woke up waaaay too early to go have one of these:

A Mammogram!

Yes--I'm only 35 years old and these aren't really necessary till 40 and beyond, but given my family history of breast cancer, my doctor wanted me to start early.

So--have you had one of these before?

It's, umm....interesting.

And squeeze-y.

And if I'm being honest, coupled with the ObGyn appointment I have this afternoon (seriously!), I'd say it makes for the most "action" I've gotten in 2 1/2 years. I'm just sayin' :).

Honestly, if you have never had a mammogram, it's not as bad as you might have heard. There is some slight discomfort, but no more than you probably have when your kids crawl all over you while you're trying to take a nap. The female employees there were all kind, patient in explaining what they were doing, and respectful of my modesty. The worst part was that one old, creepy guy in the waiting room kind of grinning while looking through the boobie pamphlets.

I am grateful to live in a country with such an advanced medical system that resources like mammograms are so easily and readily available to us. And while there are a lot of other "grams" I find more pleasant: telegrams, candygrams, monograms, my gramma, graham crackers, that Graham guy from the Food Network, and Jem and the Holograms....this one was far better than, say, a gram of cocaine.

Now, I'm going to go buy the girls some Cafe' Rio for lunch for being so good :).

*and I had to do a p.s. here...because I just came back from my pap smear. My ObGyn, whom I've been a patient of for 11 years and 3 babies, laughed when I told him about my "day of groping". He came back in the room with a lollipop and a balloon and said "Here, now you can say someone has wined and dined you before they had their way with you." TMI? Maybe. But I'm STILL laughing about it :).

tying up loose ends

Can't believe I let the amount of time go between posts that I did! Last Thursday, I took the boy squad and escaped to the mountains for a few days. Snow on the ground. Snuggle time in front of cartoons. Pancake breakfasts. And a family time share condo we could let get as messy as we felt like. It was a wonderful two and a half days. And my baby turned 13 up there. We'll go into that another day because even thinking about it starts me getting teary right now.

The rest of the week has been spent tying up all the loose ends I could.


Some great people stepped forward and fought for me, but in the end--my appeal to take 25 credits, including the independent studies--was denied. I reverted to plan C and will now be taking 4 credits of intersession classes. That means I'll have no Christmas break and will be in class even on Christmas Eve...but the "half-full" part is that I WILL be graduating in May. Can't wait to slightly thumb my nose at the department chair and my advisor as I grab my diploma. And I've got my week of Thanksgiving break blocked out to get my grad school applications all polished up and ready to turn in.

After your kind encouragement, I also took the time I needed at the Health and Welfare office to get signed up for some benefits. My kids dental is now covered by Medicaid. I thought I had an already healthy $650 a month grocery budget (we never went hungry), but--believe it or not--I was given $759 a month in food benefits. I KNOW we can't possibly eat that much, so I'll use the surplus to build up our food supply against a time when things might not be so plentiful. That will give me 6 months of a little extra help to see what I can accomplish. Between that and the income I'm generating with freelance work, the alimony money I'm missing is almost replaced. Little mercies, little mercies.

I'm trying to get the loose ends of my love life tied up as much as I can, too. Oh the things my fears prevent me from doing! :( ... A poet friend of mine gave me this "love advice" once (and he really talks like this all the time, too)... It must be hard for you to want to be totally clean but still artsy, because men who are totally clean are not really the men who understand where your writing comes from. Your only shot is to find someone totally enamored by you who doesn't care that he doesn't understand everything, Just loves you nonstop for no apparent reason besides loving you. So that he doesn't question it. Someone clean and churchy. Probably nothing is best. 

That was hard to hear when I got it and equally as hard now. Because I wonder waaaay too much about what "nothing" would feel like, and it's a sad place. But is it not worse to be in the wrong place just to avoid being in the sad place? Ninja has told me to be certain I'm not ignoring answers in my quest to have signs. So, I'm stirring that bit of advice around in my head and heart as well and waiting, waiting, waiting. Haute Cakes has moved on. Green Eyes has moved on. Several of the men I've dated are now married. And here I sit, like those dudes in Scooby Doo who's legs go round and round, but they never go anywhere.

I only know this thing for sure....Even in this place where I am terrified, and exhausted, and overwhelmed, and lonely, and dirty, and worn out from fighting, and beyond humbled....I have a slow, steady flame of hope as well. I KNOW that I am a woman who has FOUND herself in these circumstances; not one who, by making bad choices, has PUT herself here. I will find my way out. And I will enjoy the journey as much as possible. And one day, I will have someone to share it all with me again.

So, there ya go! I'm moving Friday Fotos to Monday to give me time to download what I've taken this last week. But this one...this one I had to share. Because here are four ends who are just perfect being loose and need no tying up whatsoever :)

oh the things that pop up

 My mom made a fabulous comparison once: She said that trials in life are like a game of Whack-a-Mole. As soon as you smack one down, another one pops up...but at least you're having fun playing. So true. At least I think I'm having fun. Maybe I'm having soooo much fun that it's time for someone else to have a little fun for a while? :)

Went in to my advisor on Monday with my well laid out, downright brilliant plan to swing the 25 credits next semester. I needed him to sign off on me taking more than the normal allowed 21. I spoke to him clearly and calmly; explained to him what I planned on doing, how I planned on doing it, and why I needed to do it. I answered all his questions. Then he left me alone in his office for fifteen minutes and when he came back he said,  "No. I don't think you can do that. I'm not going to put my signature on this paper. You can go over my head to the department chair if you want."

I wanted to punch the guy in the face.  Never have liked him. I didn't though, but rather I shook his hand and thanked him for his honesty. Trying not to cry, I walked out of his office, caught my breath, and went to see the department chair. I gave him my same spiel, though I'm sure I was looking a little more panicked by that time. He's going to "think about it". I should know next week. Whack. Whack. Whack.

As if that wasn't enough, I found out that same afternoon that my ex has no more dental insurance for the boys. They were due for 6 month check ups and I had no idea how I could cover them, being barely able to pay my own $425 a month insurance premium. So, I figured since I was already standing at the station, I'd just fully hop on the desperation train. On my way home from the university, I stopped off at the Health and Welfare office to see about dental medicaid.

I remember my mom telling me she had to go on welfare for a while right after my dad died, was on it for a year and worked like the dickens to get off. She instilled in us to only ever use services like that as a very last means to ensure there would always be enough for those people who really, really needed them. I didn't know if I was to that point of really, really needing yet but it sure felt like it.

I entered the building and was bossed into a line by an old security guard. As I surveyed the people around me, I saw a lot who looked as uncomfortable as I did. I met the gaze of one woman whose eyes seemed to be saying the same thing as mine: "How did we get here?"

I could hear the pride in me screaming: "I don't want to 'qualify' for anything that I don't earn through my own hard work and talents!" I almost stormed out of there...but then I thought of my boys. With lack of alimony cutting our budget by a third, we really could use some extra help right now. So I stayed in the line. And turns out that as a full time student, I qualify for all kinds of stuff. Sigh. Bittersweet news. I'll just take the dental coverage for now, keep working my budget like a pro, and save the rest of the offerings for when we might really, really need them.

And then I went out to my van and pounded my head on the steering wheel and alternated between crying and crazy person laughing for a little while--Remembering it really wasn't so long ago that I was something, someone completely different. And how did it all change so quickly?! There are amazingly wonderful things I have learned about myself over the course of the last 2 1/2 years. Things I really love. Things I wouldn't want to change. But I suppose until I fully purge the part of me that would just like to have everything put back together like it was, I'll never be able to gladly embrace all aspects of this new life.

Are my posts starting to sound like broken records yet? Because they sure feel like them! I know we tend to remember the past as happier than it actually was; think of the present as worse than it is; and worry that the future will be less resolved that it probably will be. I get that..sometimes it's just too hard to shake off all the heavy chains of "what if's " and "why me's?". All I know for sure right this moment is that I'm going to keep whacking  moles till God takes my mallet away and hands me my prize. I want the giant, four foot teddy bear, please.

p.s. Did I mention my cell phone also fell in the toilet on Monday and broke? Yeah...that was awesome, too. On second thought, I want the six foot bear.

friday fotos: fall fun

I haven't been able to be out in this gorgeous Autumn as much as I would have liked, but still managed to get some great pictures on the days I WAS out and about.

Here's what we've been up to this week....

 I love everything about this season (except the flies. And the wet leaves that get tangled up in my longboard wheels. But everything else...honestly :) ). Snapped this photo at the grocery store....

I got to be the photographer at a photo shoot for a friend who's trying to build her hair/makeup portfolio. I picked out this location...

It's an old shack just down the road from my house. Loved it so much that I'm going to have our family pics done there this week.

 The sun breaking through those steely gray clouds...

 Maybe not very autumny, but a fun reminder: the aftermath of my E's 11th b.day party :)

 This picture cracks me up! Boy squad at the pumpkin patch...

 Another funny one from the pumpkin patch...

 Halloween. Ugh. Not a good one this year, but at least I got them in their costumes and smiling for a picture. One day we'll look at this and just see the smiles and have forgotten all the junky stuff that went on :)

Hope you all get a chance to go out and enjoy this season before its gone! (and forgive me if the pictures are smaller than usual. I finally updated to the new blogger and still trying to figure it out!)  ~Happy Weekending!~

light at the end of the tunnel...well, this one at least

You know what that's a picture of ? Light....at the end of the tunnel. Chances are there's probably another tunnel ahead, but for now--I'm just going to enjoy the fact that I see a bit of hope at the end of this one.

It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week. Saturday (our Halloween) especially-- don't even get me started on how bad that was. Let's just say it ended with me having a bit of a meltdown in front of the nice families at church during our trunk or treat. I have been overtaxed emotionally, overworked, and incredibly underslept.

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse...yesterday happened. I went to meet with my advisor to make sure that I had properly applied for graduation in May and guess what I found out? Even after killing myself next semester with fifteen credits, I would need.....TEN MORE. They weren't core classes, or anything related to my major--I had all of those completed. Seemed to me they were just flopped down there to make sure I would spend the maximum amount of money at the university that they could possibly milk out of me.

Ten more credits. I don't have the time. The luxury. The money to stay in school for another semester or two trying to finish them. And 25 credits in one semester?! How in the $%&* was I supposed to do THAT?!?! I remember taking 19 one semester in college, 1994. When I had no kids. And no job. And teenager energy. And my mom to pay my bills. It was tough then.

But what choice do I have? I am sooo close. I can't give up now. And the graduate school application that is already paid for--I don't want to lose that. There is no other choice--graduate in May or not graduate at all. 

I came home, trying to hold it together for my boys. When I walked in, I saw they had the neighbor kids over to play. I reminded them (kindly) that they weren't supposed to have friends over when I wasn't home. My 12 year old responded "but you're NEVER home anymore, Mom". That did it...

Tears. Lots of them. I know how busy I have become, and how it isn't going to get any better. I just want to stay home and be mommy again. I don't want to miss my kids growing up. This is NOT the life I chose or lived for, but it's the one I'm in, and the kids are in it with me. We had a long talk about what was going on, about what would more than likely be ahead. How we need to hold together and do our best a little longer. We prayed as a family. I still didn't know what I was going to do. I said something on my Facebook page about the frustration of my situation. Then, I received this via email:

 You've got guts and brains and determination--


Get the forms from the department office, and I'll sign off on both an Independent study (I'm open to any ideas you want to pursue) and a Marketing/Promo Internship. We can iron out the details later.


Glad to help.


***It was from one of my professors. An insanely talented one with a book coming out in March. I couldn't ask for a better friend in my corner. Next came this....


Anything I can do to help. Give me a few days to look look up the independent study forms and I'll get them back to you.
I hope you don't mind but I've emailed my mentor who is the writing program director, and asked her if she will sit with you for a mentoring session. She is wonderful, you'll love her and she might have some insight that the rest of us don't to help you with all this. I've also emailed the McNair director and asked her for her contact in the financial aid department. Lets get you in with her and see if we can't get you some help there too.

***That one was from my brilliant friend, currently on a full ride scholarship at a PhD program .-- And that was all I needed. That was the light.

When I was little (and even not so little), my mom would tell me to go in and clean my room. I'd stand in the mess and just feel overwhelmed. I wouldn't know where to start. But then my Mom would come in with me and help for just a few minutes, get me started, give me a little direction, and then I could do it.

That's how it felt to know that I wasn't totally alone yesterday. That I had a few people willing to point me in the right direction, clear a little mess off the floor for me. People who believe in me and in what I can do.

And guess what? I found a way to get 10 credits through independent study and internships--work I can start on right now. I also went to see a few of my Literature professors for next semester and asked for reading lists ahead of time so I could get started on that as well. A working, full-time, single mom possibly pulling off 25 credits in one semester...that's pretty darn cool if you ask me.

Now I need to come up with the almost $8,000 it's going to cost me to finish...but even that doesn't overshadow the hope I have right now. I'm just going to stand here and enjoy this light on my face for a little longer. Because it feels really, really good.

walking into the dark again: the year that will make or break me

My blog has gone silent (gasp!) but I still take a lot of care to select music I think would fit the post, so if you were one who liked a little soundtrack, feel free to make it play right over there. <--------

I have no idea what is going to happen in the next year. I am terrified and overwhelmed by its immense power to forever change me, and my children's lives--for better or worse.Somehow, if I manage to survive next semester with it's 1000 pages of reading a week, plus non-fiction writing, plus my Senior Seminar...I will graduate with my Writing degree in April. Unwilling to leave the state because of my custody arrangement, I have put all my eggs in one basket and applied only to the MFA in Creative Writing program at the university I currently attend. It's a fairly prestigious program that would give me a chance to work with this guy, and this one, and this one--writers I have admired for a long time. Writers who I know could help mold me into a force to be reckoned with.
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My life has been largely shaped by things beyond my control to this point--death, sickness, abandonment, abuse. I know that doesn't mean I'm helpless, and I have done all in my power to keep my attitude toward it all in check. To keep fighting and believing that there are amazing things still out there for me. There are opportunities that I have really wanted, and dreams I was willing to chase--but amidst those there has also been this persistent voice in my mind saying: "you know if it doesn't come to pass, you need to still love where you are and who you are and what you have, right now."
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Unless I get the situation with my alimony figured out, my funding will run out within the year. It has been such a blessing to just live, knowing that our needs are taken care of. I lost a LOT of money to taxes and loss of interest, orthodontic work for kids, schooling, hospital bills, and keeping my van running. I have lived within my budget every month aside of those things and feel at peace knowing there was nothing more I could have done. I will more than likely lose our home. We will live off student loans and whatever income I can generate through freelance writing and cleaning offices at night. I don't know where the boy squad and I will go or what we will do, we really have no one to fall back on, no parents to move in with. But we have proved that we can do hard things---and we will do them again. If I give up my dream now--the one I know, if given the chance, can provide for us; if I let it be just another one of those things beyond my control--well...I'll honestly still be ok doing whatever, wherever. But can I just say that I really, really want this? I want to write. I want to teach writing to other people who want to write. God's will be done first and always, but I'm kind of hoping this is one of those situations where our wills are in harmony.
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Anyway, I am inching along day by day, knowing I will be consumed by fear and my own inadequacy if I spend too much time looking ahead. It's going to get really, really scary here. I'm going to need all the prayers and good thoughts and good advice I can get. I keep hoping one day we'll finally emerge onto the other side of all these trials, but if nothing gets better, there's still a lot to be grateful for. What a comfort that is.

So, Big Bad Scary Year (or two or three or four), I have no idea how I'm going to tackle you...but watch out! because I am going to do it.