Cracking my chamber of secrets

“One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place”. -Emily Dickinson

What haunts you? This question intrigued me on the list of prompts this week. But I was also grooving on the six word memoir (write about a significant time in your life in just six words). For some reason, both of these prompts brought me to the same topic, which is a little strange because its not something I think about on a daily basis. But it's what popped into my head, and that is what prompts are all about - triggering a thought process you can write about.

So what is it that haunts me?

My first love.

Not my first boyfriend, because I loved him in that cute teenager way. My first true, all consuming, I-will-do-anything-for-you sort of love. It was love in its most raw form. I fell hard for this guy. Had it been a longer relationship, I could have totally and completely lost myself in that love; I would have sacrificed everything for him. It wasn't one sided, he loved me too. Just not enough.

I realize as I look back on it that it wasn't healthy, the way I felt. The way I would have given up anything for him still freaks me out, makes me worried for my younger self. Its the way my life would be different now if it hadn't ended, that is what haunts me.

The thing I try and remember, when thoughts of him surface, is the strength it took to walk away at the end, the strength it took to survive it. Moving on was hard, it took me years to really trust anyone again. But when it all ended there was that moment of truth, the moment I try and hold on to, when it didn't occur to me that I could do anything but tell him to leave. Even though it hurt, even though I'd never had to do anything so hard, even though it just about killed me to do it, I watched him walk away without a thought of chasing after him.

And I survived it.

I hated him him with a passion that surprises me still. I can remember thinking over and over again that if he didn't come back to me, if he didn't want me, there wasn't a chance in hell I was ever going to speak to him again. I deserved better. I am proud of the fact that when I had to walk away I was able to. That I found the strength not to beg, not to be 'that girl', the one who keeps calling, who keeps coming back for more hurt. I cried and I hurt and I crumbled, but I survived. I need to hold on to that.

As I reflect on this short but powerful relationship, the thought that truly haunts me is not so much the guy. It is that without this experience, without the heartache and the hurt, I would not be where I am today. Because of this hurt, because it ended at work and I couldn't stand the memories there anymore, I asked for a transfer. Because of this hurt, I walked in to that new job and met the men that would change my life forever. I met the man I would later marry.

I am thankful that it ended. And that because of that ending, because I had the strength and the foresight to make some changes, remove the reminders and start a new chapter, because of all these things, I got to start over. I got to start a new, healthier chapter in my life.

The past does haunt me, because for so long I wanted to go back to the good times before the hurt, before I had to grow up.

As I have sat here drafting and redrafting and trying to sort out my thoughts, I am determined to refocus that memory, to remember only the lessons. It's time to allow myself to rest easy knowing that I made the right choice. I hurt for my younger self, but realize too that without that hurt I wouldn't be where I am today. And I like where I am, and who I am here with. My husband. My kids. My family and friends. The ups and downs I have now are survivable. They don't break me because I am not in it alone, and I know that buried inside me is a reserve of strength that I sometimes forget that I have.

My six words? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Okay, that's seven. But who's counting?

Maybe pigs do fly? A little bit o' life

The pic on the left is my darling two year old, wearing her dads socks (ummm, not clean ones - ewww) that she found on the floor, and some tennis shoes that will someday fit her, but are currently about four sizes too big. She told me she was ready to go outside and play. Love her!!

The pic on the top right is proof that the teenager and the tween DO actually speak to each other (the older one was testing the younger ones German counting skills). It's very exciting when this happens so I like to document it. That very same day I also found them in the back yard playing soccer. Together. Nicely. Maybe pigs do fly.

The bottom right pic is my proud tween after winning two ribbons at the track meet last week. Second place in the "ball kick" (seriously, the events they come up with!?) and third place in the 50 yard dash. Woot! (okay, the woot was for Mama Kat, it makes me laugh now every time I write it).

My kids crack me up.

I just posted the blog about my vacation, but life moves on even when mom isn't around to deal with it. And then, by the way, it puts a huge damper on moms vacation. Here is the short-ish version of the ups and downs.

The tween, if you will remember, tried out for select soccer. While I was gone, the results were posted online. Two teams were created and each team took 13 kids, but posted the top 14 picks for each team in case someone turned down the offer (I get that, but it still seems mean for that last kid, right??). My little guy was number 14 on one of the teams. He was heartbroken. There were tears. 

A few years ago, the teenager tried out for the junior high soccer team. He too was one away from the cut (I knew the coach well and she called and apologized and felt horrible for it - but try outs were fair and it was what it was). He took the news and decided he would never try out for a team again. It was a very discouraging process and he does not like to fail. His motto at times can be "if you try and don't succeed, go back to something you're better at."

Watching my tween adjust to this news of missing by one has been eye opening for us. He has taken this heartbreak and, instead of letting it crush him, he has turned it into motivation and determination. It is driving him now, and he is moving full speed ahead. I see him trying harder during his soccer clinics, jumping in to practice in the goal more often, not backing away as much. He is more aggressive during basketball games, he even drew two charging fouls last week. In orchestra too, he has worked harder and received props and wants to take lessons over the summer to improve. I think this experience has driven him more than discouraged him and I am frankly quite amazed. I would never have expected that from him, but am so so SO proud of him for it.

That news all came over the weekend. Monday morning comes around (again, still on vacation) and I hear that the husband had the stomach flu and ended up missing two days of work, and the friend who was going to watch the toddler Monday (while the husband was throwing up) had coughs and fevers at her house. So easy to sit back and relax when you have to ask other people to deal with your family drama.

A big thank you to those most awesome folks who helped. Love you guys.

Vacay to San Francisco

I started to write this last week when I got back from my trip. I only got about half way through it and don't forsee me finishing it, but I will share with you the beginnings. Enjoy.

Holy cow, what a trip this was! It was wild and crazy and full of laughs, lots of walking, adventures, more laughs, good food ... let me tell you about it.

I hate to fly; and because of this, my husband woke me up and handed me a shot of my favorite vodka to help get me moving. He filled my carry on with little airline size bottles of vodka, which was sweet but turned out to be a huge waste of money because I had to throw most of them out as I went through security (though they were all sealed in plastic bags, apparently now we are only allowed ONE plastic bag). I did get to save a couple though, so once through the gate, I made myself another drink while I waited for boarding.

So far, so good ... on my way to San Francisco!

I met up with a friend of mine and some of her friends at the aiport, we hailed a cab and were off to the hotel. And by hotel, I mean paradise. We all decided we wanted to live there.

We stayed in Ghirardelli Square, which was awesome. Right on the water, walking distance to lots of good restaurants, fishermans wharf, and of course, the chocolate. Mmmmm, I can still taste that hot chocolate. Oh, and the crab. Fresh off the boat, warm, yummy!! The food was awesome the whole trip! This was a group of people that knows how to travel well! We made lots of friends wherever we went.

The first day was pretty much spent eating and drinking. We found a chowder house that had just opened and had a couple drinks and some fabulous lunch. We wandered around, checked out the touristy sites along the piers, then ended up at a bar. Made friends with the musician that was playing (pretty sure anyone will be your friend when you offer to buy them a shot, right?), had a couple more drinks, then went back to the hotel to get ready for dinner.

Three of the group work for a high end steakhouse and wine bar, so we went to their Walnut Creek restaurant. Ooooh, good stuff. It was nice to have the servers and sommelier right at the table with those of us not empleyed there, they made excellent recommendations, we had some good wine, and got a HUGE discount on the bill. Six people, high end steakhouse, lots of drinks - I think the final bill, after all the comps and discounts, was $125. We did leave a hell of a tip, but even still that's a screaming deal!

We had an early night because the next morning was race day (and perhaps because we'd been drinking all day and were exhausted).

Bay to Breakers baby, check it out!! I found a short video that really gives you a better idea of the experience, because you just have to see it to believe it. This was the most wild and crazy thing I've ever been a part of and I cannot WAIT to do it again.

Click here for the video

Here are a couple pictures from my phone of race day. Check out the stream of people in front of us going up the hill and behind us going down the hill. 55,000 people - amazing!!

The frat guys/pilots were hysterical, we saw them a few times. They had those camel packs on their backs, I presume filled with beer or some form of liquor. They walked in slow motion together as a group, they ate up the attention. This shot was taken on our WAY to the race.

I also found this picture of us on flicker - thank you PR Photography for capturing a quick image. Not the best shot of our group, but you can see how we dressed at least! We're the group in the pink and tutus; if you look close you can see my argyle socks - I am the second one in, tucked a little back in the white hat.

There you go ... highlights of the first couple days of my trip. We went to Alcatraz too, which is something I've always wanted to do. We also went to a place called Ike's that was featured on Man v Food, which was something one of the guys in our group wanted to do. Yummy!!

I promise to be better about posting this week now that I am settled from vacation and the wedding show is behind me. Lots of news on the home front, and I'll try for a writing prompt too.

My favorite child

My mother-in-law once told me that each of her children were her favorite, but for different reasons. My husband was her favorite one to just curl up with, watch a movie, veg out, the one she loved to relax with. The other two she had equally awesome reasons for classifying as her favorite. I’ve always loved this and now that I have three of my own I totally get it, more so than just with the two boys.

My oldest is my favorite because for a while it was just the two of us. There’s a special bond between a single parent and child and you will be hard pressed to come between us. He keeps me on my toes, keeps me thinking. He’s always been easy to be around (well, except for the teenager part, but he’ll grow out of that), he’s full of personality with a drive to be his own person. We like to say that he was born 40; he’s just always been a little adult. He’s always been someone who questions and analyzes everything until he is satisfied with the answer. He will immerse himself completely in his latest passion until he knows everything there is to know about it, and then he wants to share it with the world. His drive impresses me, even when it annoys the sh*t out of me. I can be real with him (you know, with parent boundaries), I can be honest with him and I appreciate, embrace and totally look forward to the adult he is becoming. Of my three kids, he is my rock. He keeps me grounded and stable and challenges me to be the best that I can be.

My middle one is my favorite because he makes me feel loved every day. He is my cuddler. He wakes me up with hugs and I love yous and that is sometimes the best part of my day. He’s sensitive, compassionate and empathetic. He wants the world to be a happy place and genuinely hurts when he finds reason to believe it isn’t. He’s the one I can curl up on the couch with, or I can grab a ball and play outside with; he helps me relax, sends me positive vibes and gives me the motivation to make it through the worst of days. There is nothing but love and fun and chill coming from him and I can’t get enough of it. He is the only ‘planned’ one of the group, and because it was an actual conversation to try and create him, because I wanted him and loved him before he was even conceived, the special place in my heart for him is solid and whole and filled with a love I can’t describe.

The younger one, she is my princess. She is my favorite because she is my last; an unexpected, wonderful surprise. And because she is my girl. She is the last baby we will have and from her I’ve learned to slow down, embrace the moments and enjoy day to day life. I get to learn and explore our world through toddler eyes again. This time, with the perspective of a mom with kids getting ready to spread their wings, I get it. I get that, even though this particular phase she is in sucks, even though I sometimes struggle to find the joy in parenting when I can’t get her to actually pee in the toilet, I get that I need to stop and take a deep breath and belly laugh with her. Twirl around the kitchen. Dance to the music. Don’t sweat the small stuff. She teaches me to find the happy and the positive at my most frustrated moments.

I love each of my kids with equal passion and fervor, but I also love them each very differently. I embrace their personalities and I love them for who they are, and I love them for the good and the positive that they bring out in me. They have taught me that you can passionately and wholeheartedly love more than one person unconditionally, that you can learn and be inspired by your kids. They are each my favorite child and sometimes that thought makes me so proud I could burst because I have created people that I truly enjoy being around; I am proud of them and they have given me the strength to be proud of me too.

Dentist

The two year old had her first dentist appointment today. She was so excited (for real. It was trippy).

Last night at bedtime, after we thought she was asleep (or at least settled in), she comes tentatively out of her room. When I called her name she said “Mommy, I’m awake! It’s time to go to the dentist”. I managed to convince her that she really needed to sleep before we could go see the dentist.

This morning, she even willingly left in the middle of an episode of Mickey Mouse because she was so excited. To see the dentist.

We have to ride the elevator when we get to the office. It was her first memorable elevator ride; she kept calling it an alligator.

She was chatty and happy in the waiting room, though she refused to speak to anyone but her brother or me. She was so excited to finally get to sit in one of the “big” chairs and watch the movie (except it was Kung Fu Panda, not her favorite). She readily opened her mouth for the hygienist (but she wouldn’t talk to her) and let her brush and even put “Mr. Thirsty” (that suction straw thing) in her mouth – she doesn’t like noises so I was surprised, but she was fascinated when her brother used it so she gave it a tentative try. It made her giggle.

She got a little squirmy waiting for the dentist, so the hygienist brought her an awesome toy.

brushing the dinosaurs teeth

She even let the dentist do an entire fluoride treatment.

It was a surreal morning. I hate the dentist. I fear the dentist. I don’t get her excitement.

But she was so proud. She walked around gritting her teeth and tapping them saying “they’re so clean” all afternoon. My big girl.

But she still won’t pee in the potty.

Potty training - more adventures with the two year old

Mondays are normally a day I look forward to. The day always ends with a few stoli's and my favorite drinking buddy, rehashing our week, venting, laughing, solving everyones problems ... it's a bright spot for both of us. The plan is to usually stay out long enough that the kids are in bed by the time we get home, so after a couple drinks, we can come home and just BE. Ahhhh.

Tonight, after breaking in a new bartender (seriously, we hate turnover ... they keep getting younger and if that new girl calls me ma'am one more time ...), revisiting the last couple weeks of events, and literally being the last customers to leave, I come home to what I hope will be a few minutes chatting with the teenager, then curling up with the remote and catching up on some dvr before crawling in to bed.

What I ACTUALLY come home to is a two year old curled up in my bed, on my side, looking oh so cute sleeping soundly next to daddy. I go into her room to get the bed ready to put her back into it, only to notice a diaper sitting on top of the bed. One that had obviously been on her recently. I look closer and notice the bottoms of her pajamas also on the bed. I go back to my room, pull back the covers and see a little girl with no diaper or pajama pants on, curled up, sound asleep. Then I realize that the wet spot I stepped in back by her bed was NOT water.

Seriously?

Seriously???

SERIOUSLY??????

I do NOT remember potty training being this entertaining with the boys. It gets easier, right?

Right?

Another mother's day in the books

This mother's day thing is not easy. I understand the concept behind it. It’s always important to show your mom how important she is. But asking someone, especially a group of someone’s, especially a group of young someone’s, to give up a whole day, to be selfless for 24 whole hours … that’s a lot to ask. 

When you have young kids, mother’s day is a lot of pressure. It’s a lot of pressure on the kids, because they really WANT to show you how much they love you, but they need to feel special too. It’s a lot of pressure on the husband, because he is trying to give you a break:

"No, you can’t help with breakfast; get back in bed, its mother’s day."

"No, you can’t deal with the cranky kid or change a diaper even though I’m vacuuming, its mother’s day."

"No, you can’t help me clean up the breakfast mess, its mother’s day, go relax."

Relax? How do I do that?

I spent more time than I want to admit wandering around aimlessly wondering what to do with myself.

It started out nice. There was the post it collage of sentiment that the teenager left on the wall. Very sweet, it made me teary.

Then there was the younger two coming in to “wake me up” with flowers and cards; the ten year old in his sing song voice saying happy mother’s day, the younger one super excited saying happy birthday mommy! The breakfast I requested – French toast, link sausage, mimosa – was fabulous.

The kids ate downstairs, watching Nemo. The husband and I ate upstairs and watched the Beastie Boys new Fight For Your Right (Revisited) video (very fun trying to spot all the celebrities).

When you go into a day expecting everyone to cater to you, to make you feel special … well that’s a lot to ask, those are high expectations. You are bound to be disappointed. It’s not about you as a person, this mother’s day. It’s about you as a mom. Hence the name.

I wish I could make everyone else in this house understand, I don’t need a day so out of the ordinary that we are all out of sorts. What I would appreciate more than anything is family time. Time to spend with each of my very independent children. Time watching them play together. Time to enjoy watching them just be happy. Together. A few extra hugs and I love yous during the day. No chores, no homework, no computer time, no single parenting to give the other the day off. That’s too much. Just a normal day, only a step up. I don’t need a Hallmark movie.

Mother’s Day is a contrived Hallmark holiday, as my teenager says (oooh, warm fuzzies). But as I responded back, “that may be, but it’s also nice to know that there is a day set aside that reminds your kids to say I love you and I appreciate you.” We don’t need to contrive anything, we don’t need to be fake. We just need to be a family. A happy family. Just give mom a few extra hugs and kisses.

The flowers are nice too.

My First Job

Today, the two year old has been much better behaved and allowing me to get some actual writing done. So in lieu of a life update, I am giving another writing prompt a try. Let me know what you think.

My first foray into the working world pretty much rocked. It wasn’t so much the job – though working at a movie theater totally had its perks – it was the people I worked with.

In high school, I never really fit in. I never felt I had that ‘best friend’ experience, or a place where I felt comfortable and liked for who I was. I never felt my true personality come out; I spent too much time trying to impress people who were totally not interested in being impressed by me.

Then, at the movies, I met the “archgeeks” (check it, we even have a facebook group). These were my people. A little geeky, a little theatrical, a lot of freakin fun, and most importantly, they liked me. They really liked me! Working at the movies, I made my best friends, had my most teenage experiences.


Playing freezetag in the back of one of the theaters.
As people clocked out for the evening they would come join in the geeky fun.


I had my first boyfriend – a pastry chef who made me the most amazing lemon meringue pie I’ve ever tasted (even still!). I fell in love with my best guy friend and broke the heart of the aforementioned boyfriend (teenage girls are mean, but I found him on myspace a few years ago and totally apologized). I had my first Rocky Horror experience. I rode on the back of motorcycles for the first time with some really hot boys (I still have a love for them – the bikes, I mean). We partied together, we played together. We had some serious fun.

It was such an amazing time in all our lives that one of my friends, the writer in the group, published a book about it. It pretty much rocks to have my teenage experiences memorialized in print. From an actual publisher!! Go Wade!!

Twenty some years later, it’s fun to catch up with these people who really brought out my personality - my flirty, slightly obnoxious, crazy personality - and taught me that being me was a good thing. It’s fun to randomly find them on facebook chat and spend an hour rehashing the “if only’s” and the “I can’t believe I never knew that” sort of things. It’s fun to get together and reminisce, to bring them into my adult life, to step into theirs, and create new memories with those who were such an important part of my teens.

I look back on these days with so much love and fondness. When I think of high school and my teenage years, I don’t flash immediately back to my alma matter, I go first to my days at the movies, to my closest friends. I wonder where some of them are now, wish we could reunite for one amazingly fun evening; I hope they are all happy. Mostly I’m thankful that I knew them, that they made an impressionable part of my life so much fun, that they helped me find the confidence to be (and to like) me.



It's since been demolished and replaced by a Kohl's. Sad.



Adventures with the Two Year Old

@#Q$%&!!!!!

Omigod.

Oh. My. God!! It's been an exhausting morning with the two year old. Hold on a minute while I make myself a drink for lunch ...


Ohhhhh, that helps.

Okay.

This morning, while I was trying to clean up the kitchen from breakfast, the two year old was happily playing in the next room. Watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, playing with her toys, happy happy happy. So I sat down at the computer to do a couple things, and she oh so sweetly brings me her diaper. Her, um, soiled diaper. That she is no longer wearing.

"Here mommy, it's poopy. It's a-sgusting."

Um, gross. Then I look at her. She has big blotches of red shiny something all over her face. And her cute white sweater. And streaked in her hair. I do a double take to make sure it isn't, well, you know. She had somehow, somewhere, found an old tube of lipstick (where?!? I don't wear lipstick anymore!) and rubbed it everywhere.

"I drew on the wall. And the window mommy!" she says in her most proud voice.


Lipstick. Thankfully.


After ten minutes and several diaper wipes to try and clean her up, I decide it might just be time to shower. So we both climb in the shower.

This is not a relaxing way to shower, when the two year old is with you.

Finally, we are all clean, life smells good again, it's time to get dressed. She has decided she needs to wear her dress-up clothes, and she, of course, can do it herself. Here is what she decided to wear:

note the wink

Look closely at her outfit (and all the dress-ups on the floor that she had to rip out of the closet to find just the right attire). She is wearing four skirts: the blue one you see, then bunched around her waist she has a yellow one, a pink one and another pink tulle one. For her top she is wearing the sole remaining bib in the house from her baby days. She has also pulled out all of her purses and is putting one toy in each one, until she finds the right purse to match her outfit.

I manage to get some underwear on her, then she goes about her play, moving back out to the living room. I take a few minutes to pick up her room, then head out to check on her. She has now taken the cushion that sits on the mantel and thrown it on the floor. She is attempting to use the fireplace broom and dustpan to clean.

What is she cleaning you may ask? A big mess of liquid. At first glance, it appears to be a spilled glass of water. But there is no glass.

Potty training sucks.

*Sigh* Back to the bathroom to clean her up - with perhaps not quite as much motherly love and understanding as there should have been - and get her dressed. In a pull-up.

At this point it's nap time. But I've been waiting all morning for Kinko's to call because I need to get the invitations for my sister-in-law shipped today. Of course, this is when they call (as if there would have been a better time?) and we have to get over there before I put her down.

Taking a two year old anywhere sucks. Asking her to have patience, well that's just not an option. Asking mom to have patience while the two year old screams because she wants all the candy that kinko's has displayed at her eye level, while mom is trying to correct the printing mistakes and waiting the corrections out ... that's not an easy task. My quick errand turned into an hour of waiting around, trying to keep the tired kid from screaming.

While we're waiting, I try to pull up youtube on my phone to entertain her. She wants to watch Mickey, but the video won't download. So I open up the toddler flashcard app and let her sit down and flip through them. She dropped the phone a couple times and got frustrated.

Apparently, around our house, we say goddammit when we get frustrated.

I pick up the phone, get the flashcard app back, and a picture of chocolate comes up next. Of course, the tired two year old decides she needs chocolate.

Now.

Goddammit.

And that was a twenty minute battle (which did not result in chocolate for the two year old, thank you). Finally, we wrap up at Kinko's and head home for a nap.

Thank goodness for nap time. And Stoli.