Suddenly Single Journey

A little backstory…

Friday, March 26th, 2010

When people ask of my birth, I joke about being imported.  I tell everyone it sounds so much more exotic than simply being adopted.  And if you know me, then you know I can never be too simple.  God forbid that you should accuse me of being run of the mill or ordinary…you might never live it down.  *ahem*

So, the truth of my existence is that I am adopted.  It’s something I’ve always known.  My mom, the woman who raised me, always read me a children’s book while I was little that explained what adoption was.  The book was called “The Chosen Baby.”  It was designed to make me feel special, loved, and wanted.  There are some indications it may have worked too well…like that time with my little sister.

As so frequently happens, my parents were able to have a child on their own about two and a half years after adopting me.  And Allison was feisty…still is.  One day she was very angry with me over goodness knows what.  She was about 8 years old.  And she spoke words meant to strike a mortal blow.

Allison:  Well, you’re not even their real child!

me: Well, at least they wanted me.  They got stuck with you!

Yes, I had comebacks even then.  And she ran off crying.  (Told you I can make people cry using just my words…)

As I grew older, and like any normal kid, I wanted to know about my family.  I wanted some history.  I wanted to know what I was.  There would be projects in school where we studied various cultures and were supposed to research our origins.  Only…I didn’t have any history.  Unlike HIM, who is proud to be Irish, I had nothing.  I grasped at any straws I was given.

My ophthalmologist suggested at one time that given the shape of my eyes and my cheekbones that I might be Iroquois Indian.  Well, I ran with it and read everything I could about the Iroquois.  Now, of course, I realize that given the nature of my adoption, I could be anything or come from anywhere.

See, this story emerged as I aged…

Apparently, my biological parents were engaged and the minute my mother announced her pregnancy…he bolted.  So, rather than have an abortion, (thank you!) she opted to go live with a relative until I was born.  Her obstetrician was my mom’s cousin.  And that’s how the private adoption was negotiated.

You would think that since my cousin was the physician who helped bring me into the world that I would have more clues about my past.  I don’t.  He passed away many years ago.  All I have is a name.  And…every time I have registered on an adoption website…and there have been many…I wonder if I’m even spelling it right.

The name…the one my mom saw on the adoption papers and carried in her soul until I was almost a mother myself…was Mary Ann Petrashune.

I have a birth certificate, but it has the names of my adopted parents, not my biological parents.  I know I was born in St. Anthony’s Hospital in St. Petersburg, Florida on July 7, 1972.  (It always seemed like a lucky thing to be born with so many 7s.)  And, since my kids both had Mongolian spots on their lower backs when they were young and we know the ex’s heritage, we know that I am not completely Caucasian.  See, told you I was exotic.

HE has been very supportive of my efforts to find my past, get some history, discover my heritage.  Maybe it’s because his history means so much to him.  Maybe it’s simply because he cares for me so deeply and he wants me to have everything.  Whatever the reason, I was still surprised when he spoke to me the other night as we were lying there in bed.

He was wrapped around me, like always.  And his arm tightened about my waist briefly before he spoke.

HIM: I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

me: About what?

HIM: Your other family.

I knew what he meant.  I had explained to him that sometimes it bothered me that my family was so small.  I told him that it wasn’t that I wanted a replacement family.  It wasn’t that I felt like I had missed out on anything by being raised by my adoptive parents.  They were all I had ever known.  They loved me and cared for me and never treated me differently than their biological child.  It wasn’t that at all.  It would simply be nice to have someone that I looked like or a medical history or any history.

HIM: I think that when we have some money we should hire a private investigator.  They will have more success than the adoption sites.

And I looked at him, amazed.  It still surprises me the things he thinks about.  And I didn’t know what to say.  So, I spoke from the heart.

me: I love you.  That would be nice.  Thank you.

So, there it is.  Maybe someday I will have an answer to life’s mysteries.  Maybe I’ll know whose eyes I have.  Maybe I’ll see where that nose came from.  Maybe I’ll have family stories about coming over on the Mayflower or being related to some writer or just anything.  Maybe they’ll be a huge disappointment like Joe Dirt’s family was.  It’s a risk I don’t mind taking.

I’m not looking for a new mom.  I have a great one already.  I’m not looking for a new family.  I love the one I have.  Still, I have a lot of love.  And if that was an option, I’d embrace it.  And if it’s not…could I at least get some medical history, please?

Quick Karma:

• nothing can bring you peace but yourself
  

Posted in Just Sharing | 20 Comments »

Just trying to make a difference…

Wednesday, March 10th, 2010

Sometimes it’s so easy to get bogged down in life that I lose track of who I am, the person I want to be.  And I hate being all self-centered.  We all are, to an extent.  We have to be somewhat focused on ourselves and our lives in order to accomplish our goals.  At the same time, to put blinders on to others’ needs is the danger.

And I have been so focused lately on all that I have to accomplish, that I’ve been a really bad blog friend.  I’ve been working to get my life in order, my house in order, and that’s meant that I’ve neglected people who have always been there for me.  Sorry, blog family.

The good news is that after yesterday, I’m practically together, so I can be better again.  It wasn’t so long ago that I wrote this post about all the things that needed doing.  I was pretty vague…because if I was really specific, my head would have popped off.  Still, we have been so productive lately that I’m pretty happy with all our accomplishments.

• found a renter!
• still losing weight…slowly
• moved in completely
• sold furniture
• remodeled my closet (more on that later)
• carpet stretched in kids’ rooms
• replaced oven
• repaired vacuum
• painted the columns in the great room
• installed shelves in Rachel’s closet
• new lock for storage shed
• new towel hooks in kids’ bath

Now, if we could make some headway on these wedding plans, I’d die happy.

Well, regardless…I’m feeling the need to make retribution for my recent short comings.  And here’s how I’m going to do it…

One among us has a monumental occasion to celebrate.  That’s right…Mindy at Single Mom Says is about to celebrate her 40th birthday.  She’s mother to four girls.  And like so many of us, she’s been struggling lately.  Her birthday wish, the one thing she would like more than anything, is to celebrate her birthday weekend in Las Vegas.

I would love to do my part to make that possible.  For me, simply donating isn’t enough.  I want to encourage everyone to send a couple bucks…more if you’d like…much more if you can.

Sure, times are tough.  If, however, you live like you have enough…then somehow you will.  It’s a truth I have discovered from my own life.  So, if you are looking at your budget and thinking that you can’t even afford to drop a couple of bucks, ask yourself what you’d be willing to give up to make a difference in someone’s life.

I’m giving up my guilty pleasure on Friday.  That’s the one day that I have to leave the house early to get to the corporate office, so I treat myself to breakfast at Chick-fil-A.  And then, because I had to leave the house early, I usually forget to pack a lunch…so I have to buy my meal.  This Friday, I’m going to be extra conscious, pack a lunch, and eat breakfast at home.It doesn’t seem like much of a sacrifice so that I can do for someone so deserving, someone who has offered me so much support and understanding when I was struggling.

This is what paying it forward is all about.  We reach out and do something for someone who can’t do it on their own.  So, please dig deep.  Pay it forward, and pass this post on.

Here’s how to contribute…

1. Go to PayPal.
2. Click on ’send money’
3. Click on ‘personal’
4. Click on ‘gift’
5. Type in Pippi’s email address: cdk1972@gmail.com
6. Enter amount of contribution.
7. Pippi has promised to send an email to show she received the contribution.
8. Give yourself a pat on the back.  Way to create some good Karma, instantly.

I’ll update you regularly while we try to reach our goal.  Mindy, I see Vegas in your future, girl!  You’ll have to tell me all about their Margaritaville.

Quick Karma:

• give away what you love most (money, love, gratitude)
  

Posted in Just Sharing | 7 Comments »

Celebrating my guilty pleasure…

Friday, March 5th, 2010

March is America Reads month.  And if there’s anything I’m likely to encourage or participate in, aside from the consumption of large quantities of chocolate, it’s reading.  Yes, around my house…we love books!

I know that my passion began when I was young.  Very vividly, I recall my mother reading to me at night.  Sometimes my parents took turns.  My favorite books, I saved, knowing that one day I would share them with my own children.  There were a few Golden Books…Where Did the Baby go?.  I kept fairy tale collections and Aesop’s Fables.

Winters in the Adirondacks meant lots of time indoors.  And so I would curl up with a good book, devour one a day, sometimes more.  Then, in high school, while studying French, I was introduced to quite possibly one of the most important books of all…The Little Prince. And now I own three copies of it in two languages.

Friends who have children that struggle to get them to read have asked how I instilled such a love of reading in my kids.  And I think it was a combination of things.  I always kept their books out at their level, right near their toys.  But what probably made the biggest impression was that I would read to them every night.

There’s something to be said for curling up in a rocking chair for half an hour each night with a child that’s all soft and warm and smelling of baby shampoo.  I’d let Rachel, now 15, pick out three books to read.  We had our favorites.  To this day, I can still recite Goodnight Moon almost verbatim.  Rachel would giggle incessantly while insisting I read faster Dr. Seuss’ famous tongue twister, Fox in Socks. And we would rock and rock while enjoying Love You Forever.

It was different when Keenan came along.  He spent six weeks in the NICU before he was big enough and healthy enough to join the family.  My time at the hospital was spent holding him, no small feat with all the tubes and wires, while reading to him.  Naturally, I began with The Little Prince.  And once he had heard it in both languages, he was well enough to come home.

To this day, our study is filled with book shelves, and those shelves are loaded with books.  Asking me to get rid of them would be like asking me to saw off a limb or end a treasured friendship.  I surround myself with all manner of books.  There are those meant for self-improvement, home improvement, and improved writing.  I keep the classics, though I haven’t necessarily enjoyed all of them.  *cough Moby Dick cough*  And I load up on my guilty pleasures, a combination of contemporary fiction and romance novels.  Ahh, escapism at its finest.

The kids have picked up my habit and have their own collections, books that while heavy, have made it through every move we’ve made.  They, too, appreciate a quiet night curled up with a book.

Only my quiet book nights are different now.  Now, when I curl up, inevitably the kids do, too.  And it must seem strange to the outsider looking in, seeing the three of us sharing the living room or my bedroom, all sprawled out reading, but not speaking.  These are moments of bonding, moments to be cherished.

Too quickly the kids were too big for my lap and the old rocking chair.  Too soon they stopped wanting to be read to and instead wanted to read to themselves.  They never stopped asking, however, for my book suggestions…even as their own tastes developed.

We still go to the library on a regular basis.  And I watch with pride as Rachel selects an impossible number of books.  And I remember with amazement the summer Keenan devoured the non-fiction section of the library, starting with ancient civilizations and ending in wars.

See, a love of reading is something to be nurtured.  It begins as a lit match and should become a blazing inferno after carefully being fed the necessary tools.  Books are a comfort, a hobby, a tool.  And it has long been my contention that if the kids can read, they can accomplish anything.

So, this month, begin a healthy new habit, one that you don’t have to feel badly about.  Take time to read.  If you have kids to read to, all the better.  Feed the flame.

Oh, and if you’re wondering how I came to discover that this is America Reads month…thank the Yahoo! Mother Board.  They are responsible for keeping me in the know.

Posted in Just Sharing | 11 Comments »

And in the epic fail category: dinner!

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

Certainly by now, if you’ve been reading me any length of time, you have picked up on the importance of meals around our place.  And so, Tuesday was big in the meal department.  It started Monday night with Rachel murmuring to me before she fell asleep.

Rachel: Mommy, let’s do breakfast in the morning.

Now usually when she says that it means that she wants me to take her to Panera.  And I wasn’t in the mood to drive her to school or get up that early to be ready or anything that little outing might entail.

Rachel: So, maybe you could make some eggs.  We have lots of eggs.

And she was right.  The only problem was that I didn’t know how many eggs I had…exactly.  See, on Friday, while I was doing my weekend grocery shopping, the eggs collapsed on themselves while I was checking out.  They fell out of the container and into the basket and I was scooping eggs while people stared me down angrily.  (Charlotte is not one of the warmer, sensitive, sweeter southern states like you see on television.  My guess…too many northerners.  And you can tell I’m a northerner because otherwise…I would’ve used the term ‘Yankee.’)

Still, I wanted to make the girl happy.  And she wasn’t really asking a lot.  So, I woke up early yesterday to maintain my routine and add ‘make breakfast’ to the agenda.  I thought it was going to be this lovely morning bonding.  Instead, Rachel sat at the counter reading The Last Song, the Nicholas Sparks novel Kimberly lent me…but I haven’t had time to read yet.  And I cooked in my big blue bathrobe.

Soon, I was singing.  And when I realized she was still ignoring me, I added a dance.  And when I realized that she was still ignoring me, I sang and danced over to her.  What did she notice?

Rachel: Mom!  You are such a freak.  You realize you’re still holding the knife, right?

me: Uh huh.

And then I made some comment about how she was saddled with me for a mother, to which she appropriately responded by listing friends who wished they had me for a mother.  Good, Rachel.  Nice compliment.

Soon, she was off to school, I was off to work, and she had a great hot homemade breakfast on her belly.  Score!  Mother of the Year, here I come!

Well, lunch was really great.  For me.  I ate with the new guy.  He met me…ah, the romance…in the food court.  And we ate a rushed lunch, during which time I had a startling revelation.

me: Want a chicken nugget?

And I gasped before he gave a response.

NG: No thank you.  What’s wrong?

me: I’m notoriously food selfish.  I really must like you!

He laughed.  And I think he thought I was joking.  Alas, you don’t get thighs like these from sharing.  Silly, new guy!  Yet, I can see why he would be confused.  He always comments about reasons that he knows he likes me.  Like…the other night when I told him how much I appreciate his texts.

NG: I hate texting.  And yet I text you all the time.  I really must like you.

So, there’s that.  Yay, me!

Then came dinner.  Rachel was supposed to cook.  She told me she would before she left for school.  Only then, I received a text from her Jennie, aka Ashley.  Rachel needed to stay after for tutoring and could I pick her up?  Tutoring.  That dedicated girl, so devoted to her grades.  Right.  Justin had to be staying after.  Still, there was a chance she might learn some geometry.  Sure, I’d pick her up.

Well, we arrived home just after 5pm.  I think we can all agree that this is not late by normal standards.  Only…I didn’t eat all my lunch.  And I didn’t get a snack because I let Kimberly talk me out of it…by text.  (Okay, and I was a bit distracted today with the new guy popping up unexpectedly here and there, but I mostly want to blame Kimberly…because it makes me feel better.  Sorry, Kimberly!)  Rachel was starving because of…tutoring.  And Keenan, well, we found him locked out of the apartment, waiting for us in the cold.  Needless to say, dinner needed to be ready…five minutes ago.

I was so proud of my grocery shopping over the weekend.  I had purchased everything we needed for the week.  Or so I thought.  Because soon it was evident that we couldn’t have drumsticks because I had bought thighs, that we would be dead before the thighs could become rosemary roasted chicken and potatoes, and that no one was interested in pork chops at the moment.  Hmmm.  That left hot dogs.  I hate hot dogs.  It wasn’t always that way, but I spent an entire summer eating them EVERY day because it was quick and painless and meant that I didn’t miss out on much pool time.  (I was twelve!)  And now…not the biggest fan of dogs.

Let’s face it.  Meals aren’t simply about consuming calories.  There’s more to hunger than ingesting food.  No, food must speak to the soul.  It must fulfill a deeper need, a greater hunger, in order for satisfaction to occur.  Well, to bastardize a song by Mick Jagger… we didn’t get no satisfaction.

Yup.  The milk was bad, so no side of cheesy noodles.  I made it as far as boiling the macaroni part of the deluxe mac and cheese, only to realize the pouch expired almost three months ago.  I thought I was being resourceful by using the Bertoli Vodka sauce on it instead…yet the children were less than impressed.

Rachel: It looks like prison food.

And she was kinda right.  I had cooked the hot dogs in a skillet since I was out of clean sauce pans and the thought of cleaning one only to dirty it immediately required too much effort in my haste to finish cooking.

We ate.  And we looked at each other.  It was, of course, Rachel who said what we were all thinking.

Rachel: Uh. That sucked.  I’m not full.  I’m not satisfied.

So, I went to the pantry.  And I grabbed my secret stash, the one that should have been in a case labeled ‘break glass in case of emergency.’  Let’s face it, we were there.  I doled out the huge Hershey bars that I had saved for s’mores.  There would be plenty of time to get more before we needed them.  It was, at best, a last ditch effort to salvage the meal.  Still, something of a fail.

I suppose I can comfort myself in the knowledge that thankfully, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  And I can further comfort myself in the knowledge that another breakfast is right around the corner.  Yet, it is very little comfort that I will once again have to play totally beyond myself to get up at the butt crack of dawn to cook breakfast.  Ahhh, redemption at its finest.

Quick Karma:

• don’t skip breakfast
  

Posted in Just Sharing | 11 Comments »

The highlight of my day…

Monday, February 8th, 2010

Yeah.  Well, Sunday was mostly a letdown.

I had hoped to see the new guy either on his way home from work on what would technically be Sunday morning or before he went to work on what world definitely be Sunday morning.  Neither happened.  He did call when he woke up, before he went to church.  And that call was…brief.  He said he’d call back later.

So, I waited on this magical later for a not so magically long time.

And then I was supposed to be heading over to Danny and Makenzie’s with the kids to watch the Superbowl, but Danny was sick.  So no Superbowl for us.  Not a huge deal.  If my team’s not playing I mostly watch for the food, friends, and awesome commercials.

Guess I didn’t mention it, but I’d been battling a headache from the moment I woke.  And I hate that.  It puts me in a cranky mood to begin with.  So, I kind of spent the morning laying low.  Very low.  Like, in my drawer, inches off the floor low.  Yup.  Can’t get much lower than that.

And when I did feel better, I ate soup.  Only I didn’t go for the Campbells.  Nope.  I ate the Lobster Bisque that was on sale at the Teeter the other day.  It was a boil in bag bisque.  And in all honesty, and Cris can vouch for this, I’ve been craving  a soup that ends in ‘bisque’ since Friday.  Yes, I ate the whole thing.  The container claimed it was 2.5 servings.  I have no idea who makes these determinations, but it went down very smoothly while I was watching Hulu.  (As many of you know by now, Hulu is the equivalent of saying I was watching television.)

I pulled myself together to meet Pippi.  She was the highlight of my day.  I needed to have some sense of purpose.  I was working on an epic fail on everything else.  I couldn’t focus to accomplish much of any of the things I needed to do.  And I just knew that if I could mark down one little success for the day, it would make a world of difference on my perspective…and ultimately my mood.

The meeting at Starbucks was fantastic.  I’m not sure the venti hot chocolate did much for my headache…all signs point to no, but it was worth it.  She was so…great.  I liked her immediately.  I like hugging friends and she was instantly one of those.  I like people who are outgoing because it is so much less work to keep the conversation flowing.  And she was that.  Most of all, she was eager to learn and eager to share.  My kind of blog buddy.

So, thank you, Pippi, for being the bright ray of sunshine in my otherwise dismal day.  And I genuinely mean that.

Oh, and to top it off, I had made a backup plan for the quality time with the kids and that has fallen through.  J is keeping them longer.  And I want them to have quality time with him.  And I am getting them all next weekend.  (I’m ridiculously excited about that, by the way.  We have some great plans…like…IKEA!)  So, now, while I can avoid having to cook on a night I’m feeling rather low, I am also not getting to spend time with them the way I had intended.  Mixed bag.  Double edged sword.

Well, I hate being in a foul mood.  And I know that is precisely what I’m conveying right now.  So, I’m going to look for a reason to be happy.  Give me a minute.

Okay.  Here it is.  And actually, if it all comes off as we hope…it is a really great thing to be happy about.

Jolene and I were talking about a blog family vacation.  That’s right.  We want to get together in person.  See, the camera doesn’t do me justice.  I’m much thinner prettier younger better in person.  Right.  So, we’d like input.  If you want to join us on vacation in August, let your voice be heard.  Once we know who’s committed, we’ll get specific with location, date, length of stay, etc.  I, personally, am rooting for a nice beach location…or a place with a Margaritaville or a place I can drink margaritas or…who am I kidding?  I’ll pack my own on vacation.  Let’s get working on this.  Six months.  Plenty of time to scrimp and save for some quality time with your blog buddies.  Can’t wait to hear from you.

(Oh, and I finally heard from the new guy around 8:30pm.  He had some unexpected company…long story.  All is well.  He wasn’t a casualty of his work.  And, bonus, he’s not sick of me yet.)

Quick Karma:

• be friends with good natured people
  

Posted in Just Sharing | 15 Comments »

Right between the eyes…

Thursday, February 4th, 2010

It used to be something of an expression, right?  Well, it is until you live it.

See, Wednesday was one of THOSE days.  I ended up leaving work later than I expected.  The only redeeming part of the departure was running into the new guy and snagging a kiss.  Score!  Then we had to go our separate ways.  (Have I mentioned how amazing he smells?  I had some of his lingering scent on me as I went to the car and…well, damn!)

I digress.  For a change.

Anyway, we talked the entire time I was running my errands, returning a movie to the Red Box and picking up the three cheese loaf that we’ve grown to love, a bag of Caesar that’s become a staple, and I headed home.  The new guy and I are in a great place with our conversations.  We seem to have achieved a balance of sharing about our day and learning something new about each other at the same time.  So good.

Well, I sat on the couch and finished my conversation with him while the kids pulled out all the ingredients we needed for dinner.  Ahhh.  My five minutes to unwind.  Then we did what we usually do.  Everyone chipped in to help with a part of the meal.

Keenan went to work on making the salad, which was just his speed.  And he still asked some questions.  It was cute.  Rachel went to work on making Kool Aid.  And I was slicing tomatoes and nuking broccoli for the garden couscous.  (Yes, Kimberly, the pasta so good they named it twice.)

Somehow, even though we normally work together pretty well, Rachel was all in the way tonight.  It amazed me because, let’s face it, her contribution to the meal was three ingredients: Kool Aid packet, sugar, and water.  Well, in the process of pouring the sugar, she managed to knock over the couscous.  Little pasta beads were all over the floor.  And I was tired and frustrated.

me: Uh.  Rachel!

Rachel:  Relax.  We have a broom.

me: Yeah, well, I’m not convinced you  know how to use it.

That may have been where I made my mistake.  See, there are so many uses for a broom.  And I should have been way more specific.

She grabbed the broom and began sweeping up the mess.  Part of it she swept ever so neatly onto the dust pan and deposited in the garbage, but some…didn’t quite make it.  I turned in time to see her using big sweeping strokes to brush the offending debris into the carpet.

me: Rachel!  *giggle* This is what I’m talking about!

Rachel covered her face, knowing she’d been caught.

Rachel: I was going to vacuum it up.

me: You broke the vacuum and I haven’t had time to fix it.

Hmmm.  I’m beginning to see a pattern emerging here.

Well, she started to walk away to return the broom to the closet.  She had been texting Justin…the boy she’s been in love with FOREVER, but had set the phone down while her hands were occupied.  It had been virtually forgotten, until she rounded the counter and it chimed.

I can see it now…in slow motion.  I was reaching for the phone, chuckling.  She came tearing around the corner, broom still in hand, determined to get the phone.  I was focused on the message as I raised the phone toward me.  And that’s why I didn’t see it coming.  BAM.  I took a broom right between the eyes.  It made a sound.  Keenan stopped tossing the Caesar and rushed to me, Rachel snatched her phone from my hands, tucked it into her pocket and wrapped herself around me.

There were a lot of ‘I love you, Mommys’ and ‘I’m so sorry, Mommys’ and ‘it was an accident, Mommys.’  There was some finger pointing.  There was also some snorting, which made me doubt her sincerity.

me: I’m swelling.

Rachel: Ummm…no, you’re not.

me: I’m swelling.  I can feel it.

Rachel: Uh, no.  No, you’re not.

And suddenly it was like that scene from Tommy Boy where they are at the diner and he has that huge mark on his face from the 2×4.  You know the scene I’m talking about.  She’s clearly David Spade which makes me *gulp* Chris Farley?  Really?

So, I’m Skyping tonight.  And I can only pray that the poor resolution and even poorer lighting is kind.  Even if it isn’t, I know my friend will be.  Apparently, that’s more than I can say for Rachel.

Quick Karma:

• speak calmly instead of yelling

Posted in Just Sharing | 15 Comments »

Communication…

Monday, February 1st, 2010

It was a day of lack of communication, a breakdown in communication, a negotiation to cease all communication, a miscommunication, a …well, you get the idea.  And it made me think about communication…in general…a lot.

First, we had a lack of communication with the new guy.  He called me first thing in the morning and while I normally answer with a ‘hey,’ Sunday I was feeling particularly bolstered and confident so I answered a little differently.

me: Morning, handsome.  How’d you sleep?

And the line went dead.  Right.  And there went my confidence.  Nah.  Actually, it merely fizzled my balloon.  No big deal.  I waited a few minutes for him to call back.  Only it didn’t happen…for over an hour.  During that time I rushed to shower, in case he was on his way over, and do the ten second tidy, in case he was on his way over.  So, my balloon was very nearly entirely deflated when I realized he was most definitely not on his way over.

Well, when he finally called back, I was back to my standard ‘hey.’  And he explained that his phone died and he had to go look for his old battery and then he had to charge it before he could call.  And then he told me that I was the first person he had called, that I was on his mind from the moment he woke up.  Ahhh.  All better.  And then the phone went dead…again.  It was roughly 10:30am.

By 11am, I had given up and was working on my girl time plans with Kimberly.  I invited Laura.  She was supposed to call back at noon to confirm.  And that call never came.  She did, however text just as we were leaving the movie at nearly 8pm.  Huh.  She wanted to know if my curse was alive and well.  It wasn’t because I brought my movie repellent.  At least, that’s what I’m going to call Kimberly from now on.  She exudes this delightful *I dare you to sit in my vicinity* vibe that just forces people to keep on walking.  I can work with that.  In fact, because of it, I may bring her to all my movies from now on…dates included.  Sorry, new guy, but trust me when I say you’re gonna want that third wheel.

And in yet another breakdown in communication, Kimberly’s husband, David, didn’t quite grasp that our movie was at 3:30pm.  So, when he arrived home at 3:30pm to watch their daughter, that was too late.  Yup.  We had to go to a leter showing.  And since my kids had come home the plans changed again.  So, instead of it being just the two of us, it was Girl Time plus one.  And that one was Rachel.  And normally I love love love having her around.  (Yes, three loves because I enjoy her that much.)  Somehow today…all day…she was completely…for lack of a better word…pissy.  Yes.  Pissy.

She had already, before coming home, managed to call and pick at me.  She was upset that the new guy had come over.  She read it on the blog.  And I was in no mood to discuss it with her…on account of there’s nothing to discuss.  I pay the bills.  Me.  All by myself.  And so I get to say who comes over.  Me.  Only me.  And yes, that means who she has over, too.  Me.  Because, and for the record, we don’t live in a democracy.  Not everyone has an equal say.  We live in a momocracy.  Oh, and I’m the mom.

Before the three of us had even left for the movie, I was already exhausted.  Kimberly and I really wanted to relax and sometimes Rachel can just be draining.  In fact…she was so draining that by dinner at a local Chinese restaurant I looked at her and sighed.

me: I can’t listen any more.  Please.  Stop talking.

She wasn’t thrilled, but she was getting tofu.  Sesame tofu, to be precise.  They arrived in deep fried squares dusted with sesame seeds soaking in a brown thin sauce.  Yum.  (No offense…vegans, vegetarians, and tofu lovers.)

Rachel: Mom, you are going to try this.

And this is what I hate about her being at her father’s house.  I’m not sure what goes on over there, but the first day back, rough.  I can’t stand when she thinks she’s going to tell me what to do.  And I was already tense for sooo many reasons…one of which was that I was missing the new guy.  We’d yet to be out of touch for that length of time and while it wasn’t an issue of doubts, I was missing his constant presence.  And it bothered me to admit it.

So, she plopped half a square on my plate.

me: Can’t eat it.  It’s in my garlic sauce.

And the cajoling began.  Finally, I just negotiated my freedom.

me: Fine.  I’ll eat it, but you have to be quiet for the rest of the night.

Rachel: Nope, for the rest of the night you have to eat a whole one.

me: And what’s it gonna cost me to have a painless morning, too?

Rachel: The whole one plus that section.

Well, I eyed them for a moment.  They didn’t seem that big…until I put them on a fork.  And they had this whole deceptively innocent look about them.  I mean they looked like deep fried hunks of cream cheese.  Do they deep fry hunks of cream cheese?  If they don’t, they should.  Tofu suddenly seemed almost palatable.

me: Okay.  I’ll eat the whole one, and the part, but there will be no more talking.  In fact, there will be no noise of any kind, including grunting, and you’ll be pleasant in the morning.

Kimberly was watching in sick fascination.  Yeah.  That’s how it is around my place.

So, with the agreement all hammered out, I ate the tofu.  I channeled my inner survivor and thought about how it could be worse.  And I tried not to make myself sick while thinking that.

And I thought I would have been happier with the silence.  Instead, Rachel was sad and defeated and lifeless.  Grrr.  I ate tofu for nothing.  Once we were home, I insisted she talk.  I’m just a big ol’ softie.  And I talked to the new guy a couple of times.  He had to buy a new phone and get a new phone number.  And, you guessed it, I was the first person he called.  He was really apologetic.

me: I’m not used to going so long without talking to you.  You’ve spoiled me.

NG: I’m sorry.  I apologize.

me: It’s not your fault the phone died.  I’m sorry you had to deal with all that stress.

So while communication was a bit off, it all came together eventually for all of us.  We kept trying.  We kept reaching out.  And that’s what counts.  The effort paid off.  Don’t give up too easily.  Strive to be heard.

Quick Karma:

• stay in contact with family and friends

Posted in Just Sharing | 17 Comments »

What are you waiting for?

Saturday, January 30th, 2010

I had a post all ready for today.  It was a cute little post about what an idiot I am, since yesterday morning I managed to be so distracted that I went through the Chick-fil-A drive thru and only after rounding the speaker and being hemmed in…realized I had never actually placed an order.  They were really great about it, allowing me to order and pay at the window.  Sure there were three of them there, staring at me, but I deserved it.  And there was more to it…of course, but the reality is that life happened last night and it meant that I couldn’t, in good conscience, post about that this morning.

Last night it snowed some in Charlotte.  I was overwhelmed by the beauty of it, much as I was overwhelmed by the lines at the grocery store because of the snow.  (Yes, when there is a threat of inclement weather, the stores are systematically emptied of bread and milk.  I, however, bought breakfast food and everything Chinese…)  And I was further overwhelmed by the new guy’s show of concern.  He was worried about me driving.  I wasn’t.  I grew up in the Adirondacks.  I was simply worried some southerner would hit me.  And then he was further bothered at the thought that I might be alone in this weather.  Ummm.  And it was nice, a very nice change.

Circumstances resulted in me spending time with Jay and Spring and her girls.  We watched Bedtime Stories and talked.  They wanted me to spend the night, but I didn’t.  I wanted to be home…eventually to sleep and write.  And I had big Skyping plans…that meant I talked to Rain for just about five hours.  (For those of you doing the math…I ended up getting off the computer just shy of 4am.  I had to go.  As time wore on, I wasn’t getting any prettier…)

So that conversation, more than anything else that happened previously, changed my life.  To catch some of you up, he recently shared on his blog a story of his friend, Gabe, who was battling cancer and given a matter of weeks to live.  He even shared her last poetry slam (just as I’m about to do) because it is powerful stuff.  And when there is a message that should be spread, I try to do so.  As you may gather, Gabe passed away yesterday.  For those of us who didn’t know her and now will never get the chance, watching this may be the best we can do.

It’s powerful and thought provoking stuff.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to ask of my readers today.  What I knew for certain was that I wanted Gabe to be honored.  How do you honor a woman like that?  Do you light a candle?  Do you have a moment of silence?  What would Gabe like?  Well, I think that’s obvious.  Gabe would like us to live…truly live…and live truly.

All I could think about was how much time I had wasted on worthless pursuits.  I looked back on my night.  It wasn’t a total waste.  I spent time with people I cared about, lots of them.  I talked to the kids on the phone.  And I was proud of that.  Only, it wasn’t enough.  There’s no time like the present to change the course of my life.  And I think I’m on the right track.  I think I’m finally making some strong choices.  I’m listing for life and encouraging the kids to join me.  We have some worthwhile activities ahead of us.  And I don’t want to waste a minute.

Let’s face it.  If I did…Gabe would rail at me.  She’s watching us now.  She has our wings.  She’s all angel.  And I want to make her proud.  I want to live a worthwhile life.  That’s how I’m going to honor her message.  Now you.  What are you waiting for?

Quick Karma:

• live life right now

Posted in Just Sharing | 11 Comments »

She’s here!

Saturday, January 23rd, 2010

I know, I try to post EVERY day.  And I want to have a really good quality post every day.  So, my apologies in advance.  See, I’m a little preoccupied.

Jennie is here!  My Jennie is visiting.  And if you think I want to waste precious time on the computer when I can be spending it with her…well, never gonna happen.

Don’t worry.  I’ll tell you all about it.  And about everything else I have going on.  Yes, wait, there’s more!  Good stuff.

But in the meantime, here’s a song that means friendship to me.  It’s a song that Rachel and I sing daily…sometimes more than once.  (Rachel, I’m thinking of you!)  And it’s so true of my friendship with Jennie.  She moved to Cary, NC and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her from my life.   Within six months, I had moved to Charlotte.  We’ve been best friends since we were 11.  We’ve been through it.  And I couldn’t have done it without her.  Like Danny and Makenzie, she’s good for my soul, but in an entirely different respect.

Enjoy my theme song!

Quick Karma:

• be yourself

Posted in Just Sharing | 1 Comment »