The other night I was helping Pink and Tink clean their room before bedtime. They share a room and, at any given moment, it looks as though the Barbies and Polly Pockets have had a murderous go round. Detached heads and limbs litter the floor. Small children left stranded amidst the shag carpet. Stuffed animals, nooses secured, hang from doorknobs and blinds. In the center of this frightening display of creativity is a large dollhouse. Every small piece of girly goodness they possess has taken up residence in this domain. Being quite cumbersome to lift, it's my job to put it away at the end of the night.
I put down the roof, ease the sides together and snap the front door shut. Bending down to look in the little windows I found myself in flashback mode. There I was, four years ago, bending down to look in the windows of this small abode, debating the purchase. Newly single and Christmas shopping for the first time alone, I knew that I couldn't afford this monstrosity of pink froth. But, I also had my pride and was determined to give my girls a Christmas that was...the same. That showed...nothing had changed. That soothed...my ego.
The title of single mother is an odd one. I've never felt all that comfortable using it. Unlike some who don't choose the role or have it forced upon them by tragedy, my benign story did not allow me to tout the title as some badge of honor. Although sometimes I did....and do. I have had incredible support from family and friends and I've never lacked a damn thing. From money, to love, to a place to crash on the lonely nights...my support system has offered it all. I owe them a debt of gratitude. And, although I have a backbone of loving encouragement...there were still those times...are those times...when I sink to the floor and cry...
As odd as it may sound, bath time is the the hardest. If you're a parent, single or not, surely you can empathize. Exhausted from work and school pickups...dinner and dishes....homework and LEAVE YOUR SISTER ALONE!....how was school, how was daycare, how do you feel, why are you crabby, where are the sign up sheets for gymnastics and carnival day and the pretzel sale and EAT THREE MORE BITES!
By the time the tub is full and bubbles are a floatin', I'm toast. Beat. Done. And that's when I'm most aware that there's no one there to hand me a towel. To pack the lunches while I dry the hair. To go grab that last glass of water or cream for the dry skin or detangler for the knots. If I don't do it, it doesn't get done. Period. Unless Boy is there.
And when he's there I remember what it's like to be part of a team. And we're so good together, we'd make the All Star game if they had that for couples. It works and we tend to our relationship as we tend to the girls. He's the kind of guy that comes up behind you while you're washing dishes, kisses your neck and then hands you the glass of wine he already poured. He is everything I have ever wanted.
...and he's moving in...
...to my dollhouse
to be continued...
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Lunch Club...
I have been blessed enough in this life to have some really fantastic friends. And, I've never considered myself to be all that great at maintaining friendships, so for that I am even luckier. I'm not sure the secret to our success over the years...and we've had many a friendship bruised and broken...but we're still plugging along together. We were fledgling teachers once. The newbies. Fresh faced. Newly Engaged. Optimistic.
And now? Well...we're seasoned, or becoming so. Gray hair and fine lines play peek-a-boo. Marriages tested. Or broken. Bodies changed by those little ones, who now steal the conversation. Collectively, we've sailed some rough waters. Divorce and debt. Miscarriages and military husbands. Cancer and cantankerous relatives. Infidelity and insecurity.
Despite all of that, we're cooler. Funnier. Smarter. And, dare I say, prettier. I think. There's a comfort there as we've let life sink in around us. We're not old, but we're not her any more. That fresh-faced newbie carrying a bridal magazine in a backpack. We're wearing the life we've earned. And I prefer the experience to the blind ambition.
So what's the secret? Lunch. We break bread. Like any family, strong at the core, we eat together daily. For the last twelve plus years it has kept us together and kept us sane. We gather around the table, gnoshing on the latest creation of Lean Cuisine and talk. Sometimes it's work, but mostly it's life. And very often it's inappropriate. We may be grown ups, but you're never too old to tell a fart joke. Or share your latest sexcapade. And if any of us wallow too deep in the muck of education, there is always another to draw you out....back into the conversational fray. Every exciting moment of life has been shared around this faculty room table. Pregnancies, expected and accidental. Engagements...long awaited. Nieces, nephews, grandchildren...on their way! Stories of honeymoons and romance, defeat and disappointment. We've cried often, but laughed more.
And I wouldn't change it, even if it inevitably changes. As life always does. My guess is that, after the faculty room is long gone and the true lines of life have taken hold, we'll still find a way to break bread...and laugh. And love.
And now? Well...we're seasoned, or becoming so. Gray hair and fine lines play peek-a-boo. Marriages tested. Or broken. Bodies changed by those little ones, who now steal the conversation. Collectively, we've sailed some rough waters. Divorce and debt. Miscarriages and military husbands. Cancer and cantankerous relatives. Infidelity and insecurity.
Despite all of that, we're cooler. Funnier. Smarter. And, dare I say, prettier. I think. There's a comfort there as we've let life sink in around us. We're not old, but we're not her any more. That fresh-faced newbie carrying a bridal magazine in a backpack. We're wearing the life we've earned. And I prefer the experience to the blind ambition.
So what's the secret? Lunch. We break bread. Like any family, strong at the core, we eat together daily. For the last twelve plus years it has kept us together and kept us sane. We gather around the table, gnoshing on the latest creation of Lean Cuisine and talk. Sometimes it's work, but mostly it's life. And very often it's inappropriate. We may be grown ups, but you're never too old to tell a fart joke. Or share your latest sexcapade. And if any of us wallow too deep in the muck of education, there is always another to draw you out....back into the conversational fray. Every exciting moment of life has been shared around this faculty room table. Pregnancies, expected and accidental. Engagements...long awaited. Nieces, nephews, grandchildren...on their way! Stories of honeymoons and romance, defeat and disappointment. We've cried often, but laughed more.
And I wouldn't change it, even if it inevitably changes. As life always does. My guess is that, after the faculty room is long gone and the true lines of life have taken hold, we'll still find a way to break bread...and laugh. And love.
Friday, January 13, 2012
A Letter to Her....
Just as I am about to drift off, on most nights, a flash of memory wakes me. It's never an entire event or full remembrance of something, but a snippet. A glimpse backwards. Exiting the limousine at my wedding, seeing that second line, watching a movie while he's on the recliner next to me. It's never enough to bring me to tears, but enough to keep me awake a little longer...
...thinking about her, well, me actually....
at twenty-five...
I'd like a chance to talk to her and let her know what's in store for her. But, there's no way to warn of things to come, she must live it. Take her lumps. Make her mistakes. Learn from them. Change. If I could talk to her, I would say...
Dearest Girl,
Hello there, darling... He's about to propose! But, you knew that already, didn't you? There's not much surprise in something you've practically begged for, for years. I want to tell you something and please listen carefully. You don't have to say yes. He is your very best friend and I know you couldn't possibly imagine life without him, but you don't need to take a vow to have a kickass party. Honey...you can't quite comprehend what it means to honor and obey til death do you part. But, the good new is that you will.
Listen, before it's too late. I'm afraid we don't have much time. (You have your dress fitting in an hour!)
Things are not going to go as you planned. I mean...your plans are really going to hit the skids sooner than you think. On the upside, you will be blessed with two amazingly uneventful pregnancies. And, you'll become a mom. You'll be a pretty good one, but you'll be much more overwhelmed than you could have possibly imagined. (Sometimes, you'll cry for months). Tink will have colic. It's going to test you...and you'll fail. Miserably. You're going to feel this incredible need to shed your skin. And you will. Him. He's going to be a casualty of you not being honest to yourself about what you wanted out of life at twenty-five.
So, you'll leave. I can't believe I'm telling you this, because you were the one person who so steadfastly believed you'd never end up here. Divorce town. Shit, this sounds morbid and depressing. It's really not! What I'm trying to say is that you'll cut off your hair, down a few bottles of Chardonnay and resurrect yourself! Oh honey, you're going to be judged so very harshly. Pick your chin up, woman and keep going! Pull out those workout videos and get crackin'! You have a lot of fixing to do. But, you'll do it. And your daughters will be better for it. You know what? That one you vowed to love forever? You'll become friends, sort of, again. Wait. Patiently. Please don't give up.
And you know what, young lady? You're going to fall in love. The right way. You'll respect this relationship and cherish it above all others. Guess what! That picket fence you destroyed, will be rebuilt. Slowly. But, it will. I promise. Good luck...See you on the flipside.
You (at 35)
...thinking about her, well, me actually....
at twenty-five...
I'd like a chance to talk to her and let her know what's in store for her. But, there's no way to warn of things to come, she must live it. Take her lumps. Make her mistakes. Learn from them. Change. If I could talk to her, I would say...
Dearest Girl,
Hello there, darling... He's about to propose! But, you knew that already, didn't you? There's not much surprise in something you've practically begged for, for years. I want to tell you something and please listen carefully. You don't have to say yes. He is your very best friend and I know you couldn't possibly imagine life without him, but you don't need to take a vow to have a kickass party. Honey...you can't quite comprehend what it means to honor and obey til death do you part. But, the good new is that you will.
Listen, before it's too late. I'm afraid we don't have much time. (You have your dress fitting in an hour!)
Things are not going to go as you planned. I mean...your plans are really going to hit the skids sooner than you think. On the upside, you will be blessed with two amazingly uneventful pregnancies. And, you'll become a mom. You'll be a pretty good one, but you'll be much more overwhelmed than you could have possibly imagined. (Sometimes, you'll cry for months). Tink will have colic. It's going to test you...and you'll fail. Miserably. You're going to feel this incredible need to shed your skin. And you will. Him. He's going to be a casualty of you not being honest to yourself about what you wanted out of life at twenty-five.
So, you'll leave. I can't believe I'm telling you this, because you were the one person who so steadfastly believed you'd never end up here. Divorce town. Shit, this sounds morbid and depressing. It's really not! What I'm trying to say is that you'll cut off your hair, down a few bottles of Chardonnay and resurrect yourself! Oh honey, you're going to be judged so very harshly. Pick your chin up, woman and keep going! Pull out those workout videos and get crackin'! You have a lot of fixing to do. But, you'll do it. And your daughters will be better for it. You know what? That one you vowed to love forever? You'll become friends, sort of, again. Wait. Patiently. Please don't give up.
And you know what, young lady? You're going to fall in love. The right way. You'll respect this relationship and cherish it above all others. Guess what! That picket fence you destroyed, will be rebuilt. Slowly. But, it will. I promise. Good luck...See you on the flipside.
You (at 35)
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Resolute Resolutions
My last year's resolution was to write more often. January 17th, 2011 was the last time I visited this page. As the year passed, 3 Boys and Girl became more a reminder of a "have to" than a "want to". And I love to write, that wasn't the issue, but time and creativity seemed to elude me. It still eludes me. My fingers are rusty, pecking clumsily at the keyboard...hoping it will reveal the 2012 me.
At the request of a dear friend, I resolve to write again this year....so here goes...
We sat around the table...glasses brimming with New Year spirits. Plates...full. Hearts...hopeful.
With faces flushing from a little too much Chardonnay and Cayenne, we asked...
What do you want from this year?
With 2011 on the verge of becoming a memory, we allowed ourselves to verbalize what we probably wouldn't be able to live up to, but....on the precipice of a new year we were all giddy with hope. Who cares? Not us. There is not enough hope in the world. Even if we fall short...well...at least we peeked over the edge of change.
So what did we resolve?
To be more...
interesting
loving
involved
aware
To see more...
of the world
of each other
of the good
To have more...
time
energy
faith
sex
To hear more...
I love yous
laughter
music
forgiveness and sincerity in our words
To give back, give in, give up and let go...
To be us, but better...
A very blessed 2012 to you and yours, to me and mine....to ours.
At the request of a dear friend, I resolve to write again this year....so here goes...
We sat around the table...glasses brimming with New Year spirits. Plates...full. Hearts...hopeful.
With faces flushing from a little too much Chardonnay and Cayenne, we asked...
What do you want from this year?
With 2011 on the verge of becoming a memory, we allowed ourselves to verbalize what we probably wouldn't be able to live up to, but....on the precipice of a new year we were all giddy with hope. Who cares? Not us. There is not enough hope in the world. Even if we fall short...well...at least we peeked over the edge of change.
So what did we resolve?
To be more...
interesting
loving
involved
aware
To see more...
of the world
of each other
of the good
To have more...
time
energy
faith
sex
To hear more...
I love yous
laughter
music
forgiveness and sincerity in our words
To give back, give in, give up and let go...
To be us, but better...
A very blessed 2012 to you and yours, to me and mine....to ours.
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