Surprising weekend

This weekend I had a meltdown. A big one. I lost my Mom almost 7 years ago. She wasn't only my Mom... she was my best bud. A lot of people don't even like their parents, I, however adored my mother.

Holidays stir up the weirdest emotions in me. I thought that maybe time would bring some closure, some perspective, some healing. The reality is that some days, time hasn't healed a thing. I'm still motherless, I still miss her and I'm still dealing with ... well, how to deal, really.

Fast forward to Thursday, Turkey Day. I'd been thinking about my mother all day... what would we have been doing.... what would we be cooking... how would my life be different on that day if she weren't dead. It's a slippery slope because no matter how hard you think of where your life would have been, it isn't there. She's still dead, I'm I'm still sad.

I was doing just fine until my Dad mentioned something about her in passing. And I felt it coming, like a wave clobbering me and holding me under, I started to sob. Not just a trail of a tear or sniffle. I'm talking about uncontrollable sobbing that comes with an ugly looking cry face. Yes, I was hysterical.

What's even more surprising about the sobbing was that someone came over to where I was eating dinner (or should I say "sobbing in my dinner), someone I don't know terribly well, and gave me something I haven't experienced in a while... compassion.

Not sympathy, not pity, not that sad pouty lip with your head cocked to the side but pure compassion for the fact that I was having a hard time. She told me to feel whatever I'm feeling that moment. As I understood it: not to apologize for what I was going through that very moment.

I haven't experienced compassion in a while. I've gotten so used to people pitying my situation or telling me it'll be alright that I'd forgotten what it was like to heard that it's ok to be sad, or mad, or hysterical over Thanksgiving dinner because my Mom isn't here to share it with me.

And for that... I'm thankful.

Guns and Yoga

I'm busy. I'm a working Mom running around with her hair on fire every day. That being said, I try to multi task. I do the dishes after dinner while my son watches Thomas the train. My kitchen is clean, he's  happy watching his buddy Thomas the Train... everyone's happy.

It occurred to me tonight that maybe I multi-task too much. I was doing yoga, getting centered while watching Sons of Anarchy, when I suddenly realized that maybe doing one thing at a time might be a good thing. Maybe watch Sons of Anarchy first and then get centered?

We're not all Ken and Barbie

The other day I was talking with a co-worker about how I'm trying to lose those wretched 10 pounds and my husband is working on his tummy. The guy looked at me, shrugged, and said "well, we're not all Ken and Barbie". Amen, brother, we AREN'T all Barbie and Ken. 

It was one of those ah-hah moments!

Yea, I may watch the Real Housewives for entertainment but I'm certainly not one of them. I have a full time job and would rather spend time watching Thomas the Train with my son than work out. Those are the times that I cherish. I may still have those 10 pounds that I struggle with, but I have fulfilling relationship and a husband that I love more than my luggage. 

I'm embracing my newfound confidence and pride with a glass of Malbec. Cheers and goodnight!

Sharing and caring day

My husband called me this morning, which generally means something is lost or he’s having a hard morning. I get into the office before him so my husband handles drop offs and I handle pick up. I could tell right away he was annoyed. Our son was just moved to the pre-school class at daycare and this is his first full week.

Apparently, when my husband dropped him off this morning, we didn’t have something to share for “caring and sharing day” (no joke). I would like to point out that my son is 2… he turned 2, 2 months ago. We’re lucky if he comes home with socks on and she wants him to bring something for caring and sharing day?

My thoughts are (in no particular order):

1)      I barely have time to get my tush out the door in the morning much less remember to bring a quasi-special item that he can bring to caring and sharing day, but not something SO special that if it’s lost it will result in tears, whining and loss of sleep.

2)      When did pre-school become some important? He’s 2, honestly he’s not going to remember caring and sharing day.

3)      What if we don’t feel like sharing?

After my husband told me that preschool teacher informed him that he really should read the bumblebee manual, detailing sharing and caring day, my blood pressure really got up. I did something I probably should have done. I called the school and asked the teacher if there was a problem. The last thing I wanted to do was cause trouble, but seriously... caring and sharing day is something that requires giving my husband shit? We can't leave Elmo at home and do without the meltdowns after some other kid brings home his Elmo accidentally? And my son is 2, how much can he share, really?

Why is it that I'm paying over $1k a month in daycare and still have to worry about sharing day? Can't I just drop off my son knowing that he's going to a nice clean environment where he'll be taken care of? Sheesh... And bah humbug (I'm getting ready for Christmas early this year).

You know you're at your limit when you consider fruit punch to be a good mixer

My son is sick... and ornery.

We're working a full week of an ear infection. We started with the drops last Friday. Tuesday the cough started. Wednesday we took him to the doctor and got him started on antibiotics. Last night he slept like crap, which means that I slept like crap.

Yesterday when I picked him up from daycare he looked like he was getting worse. Then I looked around the room; 3 other kids had running noses. Sigh... I decided that as much as it would be a chore, I had to keep him home today. I was working from home anyway and decided I just had to make it work.

So, I have worked it all day. Work work, and crabby son work. I'm all worked out and it's only 4PM. At about 3:00 I was at my limit. It was at that time that I started looking in my fridge to see what would be a good mixer for vodka. Sobe water... nah. Apple juice... uh, no. I'm no mixologist and just can't turn vodka and mots into an apple drop. That's when I saw the fruit punch and wondered if how nasty that would be. So I tried it. Uh... it was nasty.

Thank GOD I found a lemon palagrino in the fridge. Salvation! Now only 4 hour until bedtime.