Your Princess is in Another Castle

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Well, it has happened. It is happening as we speak.

The Boy has discovered girls.

I have always considered myself fortunate that The Boy discusses everything with me. And I do mean everything. Ever since he was tiny, he has considered me one of his best friends. Amazingly, that has not gotten in the way of all the parenting stuff like rules, and chores, and punishment. I have heard people say that if your kid doesn’t hate you then you’re parenting wrong. I don’t agree.

I think it really depends on the child. Ladybug hated me for about three years straight. The Boy has only hated me once or twice, briefly. Once when I acted like his cat (Lloyd) was in a box and I shook the box to make him disappear. Lloyd had actually slipped out of the box and under the bed when nobody was looking. I thought it would be funny but boy, was I wrong. I kinda hated myself after that little prank.

There was also the time that my whole family was going tubing, but The Boy was scared to get in the tube. He stood on the dock with tears in his big brown eyes and ran through his entire list of possible calamities while my family floated away. I told him it was okay to be afraid, but he would be missing out on a really great day if he stayed behind. Sometimes we just have to do it scared. I took his tiny hands in mine and said, “Do you trust me?” He smiled through his tears and said, “Yes, mama.”

And then before he knew what was happening, I yanked him into my tube, and we floated away. Hatred flashed in his eyes for a moment, but we ended up having a fantastic time!

When we returned home, we saw a news report of how they had to remove a six-foot bull alligator from that very spot because it was aggressive towards tubers. Yep, that was on his list of possible calamities! (but did you die???) He is now as big as that alligator (literally, 6 feet tall) and he has yet to forgive me for that. But he doesn’t hate me anymore.

Even after that, though, he still confides in me and shares his thoughts on life, politics, Dungeons and Dragons, botany, religion, dragons, school, anime, and now, girls. I really treasure these conversations because I know they will become few and far between as he gets older. I know that he will start talking to his friends more and me less. For now, I get to watch as he starts to realize that he finds girls fascinating. And hopefully I can impart a little wisdom about how to understand them, as I used to be a girl myself.

His first girlfriend was absolutely amazing. They could not have been more perfect for each other if I had created a blueprint. It was wonderful to watch him light up when she called. He came to me when he wanted to get her a special birthday present and to send her a care package when she went away for the summer. He talked about how smart and pretty and funny she was. Sometimes he would just sit and smile to himself. It was beautiful but they were twelve. They had a good run, six months of talking and laughing for hours at a time.

Then he broke up with her. He was terribly upset because it felt so horrible to hurt her. As much as I hated to see him hurt, it made me really happy that he felt so bad. Breaking hearts isn’t a pastime. People need to be handled with care.

Since then, he has learned a little bit more about attributes that he likes in a girl. We’ve talked about what girls like about guys. I’ve tried to make him a little more sensitive to feelings and emotions and the value of tacos in peacemaking. We’ve talked about what his first date might look like. I have stressed the importance of putting his best foot forward but still being himself, complete with bad jokes and anime references. We’ve also talked about what his marriage proposal might look like. I hope it changes a little before he actually proposes because I don’t know how we’re going to convince the Lego Joker’s henchmen to assist with that.

It’s important to me to make sure that he goes into the world with an open mind and an open heart. That means his heart will get broken occasionally. He will also break some hearts occasionally. I know this from experience, but I also know that he can’t learn everything from my experiences. Some things he will have to figure out for himself.

I’m sure every mama wants to shield their baby’s heart, but I think the best we can do is put good stuff in and fortify it so that when it does get broken, they have the strength and courage and confidence to put themselves out there again. Hopefully, we put in enough good stuff to last their whole life. I think when they are teenagers, they begin to give us tiny glimpses of the adults they will grow into one day. It’s looking pretty good for The Boy, so far.

I hope that he reaches his full potential but more than that, I hope that he is happy. I believe that he is well on his way to being a really great human being. And I believe that the world is so much better because he exists. I hope he continues to handle people with care. I’ve tried to instill in him kindness and compassion. I want him to be generous with his time and energy but not so generous that he sets himself on fire to keep other people warm. I hope that he keeps talking to me for a long, long time even after he stops telling me EVERYTHING. I hope the teenage girls take it easy on him. And I hope that when he realizes that maybe HIS princess is in another castle, he has the courage to break a heart gently and keep looking for her.

And I hope that one day he forgets about that dang alligator.

Manifest Schmanifest

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I think I’m sick of the word “manifesting”.

I subscribe to several inspirational writers, and I follow all the pages on Facebook with the inspirational quotes. I keep hearing about how to “manifest” everything I want out of life. And for the low, low price of just (enter a low, low price here) they can teach you how it’s done. I think most of us know how it’s done, though.

Most of us have made a wish and blown out candles on a birthday cake. Then, in our birthday excitement or sugar high from the cake, we start looking for how that wish might come true. If you look hard enough, you’ll find it. Then it’s up to you to grab it and claim it as your wish come true! Is that manifesting? Kinda? You still have to put in some work.

Unless you’re Ladybug, whose birthday wishes literally just land in her lap. At her sweet 16th birthday dinner, she blew out her candles and wished for a little gray striped cat. I said, “Not gonna happen. We have two cats already. PLUS, you told me so it can’t come true now.” We got home from dinner that night and started getting The Boy settled in for bed when we heard meowing coming from the garage. You will never ever guess what was meowing in my garage. A little gray striped cat. I’m not even kidding. The Boy instantly fell in love with it, asked the cat his name, the cat replied, “Yeow.” So, we were now the dismayed owners of a little gray cat named Yeow. But wait, it gets better (worse?).

The Boy loved Yeow. Ladybug, being the very good big sister that she is, says, “It’s okay. He can have Yeow. I wanted a gray cat with darker stripes anyway.” She really does love her little brother. It was such a sweet gesture that we had to allow it. At this point, we were Humans: 4, Cats: 3. Fine. Whatever. And then… Guess what shows up in my garage the next night. Yup, A little gray cat with darker stripes! Apparently, he came looking for his almost twin brother and found his way right into Ladybug’s arms, and heart, and my house and maybe my arms occasionally, reluctantly. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to refuse a birthday cat. Humans: 4, Cats: 4.

If that’s not manifesting, I don’t know what is. I have gone over it in my head a hundred times to try and figure out how she pulled that off and I got nothing. I know our neighbors had (and periodically have) litters of kittens but they have never found their way to our house before that or since. Maybe she needs to be teaching people how to manifest for the low, low price of (insert low, low price here)! Everybody would probably just end up with cats, though.

I often think about that birthday cat when I make my birthday wishes. Or any wish for that matter. How will I get to do/see/experience the things I want? How will I make it come true?

I say “make” it come true because I’m not Ladybug. I know that it’s not enough to wish, hope, aspire, or have faith. Faith without works is dead. You have to find the path that leads to what you want and then you have to take it. YOU have to walk down that path and work in accord with your wish, hope, aspiration, and faith. It may be scary. It may be lonely. It may require you to step outside of your comfort zone. Hopefully, you have a great network of supportive friends and family but if you don’t, hit me up. I’ll support you! As long as its legal!

Well…hmmm…there may be some illegal things that I would also support so we’ll have to take it on a case-by-case basis.

I had a great birthday month, made several birthday wishes, and it’s kinda spilling over into this month, too. Maybe I can keep up this momentum all year. I want this year to be absolutely packed with love and joy! So far, I’ve had presents, travel to NYC, a Billy Joel concert, cake, lots of really good food, and time with the people I love most. Coming up this month, I have another concert (Bob Dylan with a sweet little HoneyBee) on the schedule and a show (Beetlejuice with The Boy at the Fabulous Fox Theatre), and April will be full of traveling with some of the people I love most. I am putting it out into the universe that these are the things I want but I’m not going to sit and wait for these things to land in my lap.

When I heard that our local radio station was giving away tickets to the Bob Dylan concert, I literally pointed at my radio with a look of determination and said (is it weird that I talk to my radio?), “I’m going to win those tickets.” The next morning, I was running a little behind schedule, so I thought I missed the giveaway. Wouldn’t you know it, the DJ was running a little behind schedule too. She played the movie clip, “You had me at hello.” I called and waited while it rang and rang. And rang and rang. She answered the phone. I answered the question. Bada-bing, bada-boom! Bob Dylan tickets manifested.

Okay, that’s kinda landing in my lap. But I had to listen to the radio, I had to make the call, I had to answer the question. Not just wish and wait.

So, I guess I do believe in manifesting. I think you do, too but maybe you don’t call it manifesting. Because manifesting schmanifesting, ain’t nobody got time for that voodoo. I do know from experience, however, that sometimes the universe just smacks you in the face with exactly what you need whether you want it or not. (Or drops a cat/friend/job in your lap right when you need it.) And I know that if you make your wishes and then look for ways to make them come true, you’ll probably find the way. Then you just have to DO it (that may be the hard part). I’ll be over here working on my own wishes and cheering you on with yours.

Just try to keep it legal.

Dear Forties

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Dear Forties,

We’ve been through quite a lot together but now as our time comes to an end, I want to make the most of what we have left. In just one short year, I will enter my fifties and venture into an entire new decade of life. So, let’s just sit here like old friends for a minute. Let’s reminisce a little about the ups and downs and the lessons learned.

Remember our first year together? It felt like I had the world in the palm of my hands. Oh, 2015, how you set me up for a fall. My mom passed away the year before and I spent four months in bed, physically ill and mentally unable to heal but here I was at the start of a new year, finally feeling like I just might be okay. The Boy turned 4 that year and we were having the time of our lives. He had spent my four months of mourning right by my side. (He brought toys to my bed so that we could play and would sometimes say in the sweetest little voice, “Is okay if you need to cry a foo minutes. I will hold you so you can cry.”) Now, it was time to show him a good time. I owed him one. I was working at my husband’s tire shop at the time so we could make our own hours. We went to story time every Saturday, every Lego build, every movie night at the library. We jumped on the trampoline late Tuesday afternoons and hopped in the pool at noon on Thursdays. Ladybug was not only graduating that year, but she was also crowned the Canna Queen. Our lives were filled with reasons for joy!

Proms, Parades, and graduation celebrations filled our spring and spilled over into summer and autumn with theme parks, lake days, climbing mountains, and chasing waterfalls. We worked hard. We played harder. And we slept good at night. Until…

I walked out of my house one morning in October and saw something that I couldn’t unsee. I discovered that a problem I thought had been solved was not only still a problem, but it was bigger than ever. It loomed over me threatening to end this beautiful life I was living. Threatening to rip off the rose-colored glasses and stomp them into the ground. I felt betrayed and heartbroken. I felt helpless and lost. I felt like I wasn’t enough and never could be because I had never been the reason for the look of pure ecstasy that I witnessed that day. I felt like all the love and trust that my entire life had been built upon was pulled out from under me.

I felt like I might never love or trust again.

Forty came in like a lamb and went out like a lion, tearing me apart from the inside out. I learned what it feels like to fall from such great heights.

Somehow, I made it to forty-one. In 2016, we closed the tire shop and I found work at Lowe’s. I picked up the pieces of my heart and stuffed them in the pockets of my red vest. I met some of the finest people I could ever hope to meet. During that year, we rebuilt strong. I insisted on spending more time with my family in Florida, where I recharge my batteries. We had a family wedding, held a baby tiger, tubed down the Rainbow River, and remembered how to be happy. I found so much joy in leading the Build-n-Grow at Lowe’s on Saturday mornings and I learned a little about building and growing myself. Then, without even looking, my dream job found me.

Forty-two and forty-three, you were so kind and quiet and gentle. I needed you. I needed time at my best friend’s beach house. I needed Ladybug’s 21st birthday celebration in New York City. I needed to watch her complete finishing school and get a job as an extra in Cobra Kai. I needed my fantastic job, where I was surrounded by friends and showered with love and appreciation. I needed to watch The Boy thriving at school, making friends and becoming a leader amongst his peers. Things were going fine.

There were still plenty of downs. So, many downs. But I learned that I could cover them over with love and understanding and optimism. I mean, I didn’t really need to be “happy”. I just wanted to be “not sad”. There was enough good to focus on that I didn’t really even notice how much of myself, my wants, my needs, I was giving up. I just wanted peace. Forty-two and forty-three, you were peaceful. I appreciate that.

And then forty-four came along.

Forty-four, you were so demanding. Where Forty-two and Forty-three wanted peace, you wanted more. I realized that my heart never really mended, I just moved the pieces from the pocket of my red vest to the pocket of my pant suit. Suddenly, I ached for “HAPPY” not just “not sad”. That year I learned a few critical things about myself. I don’t like people bad mouthing my family. I don’t like people persuading me to stay away from my family. I don’t like people telling me that I’m a bad person. I don’t like the silent treatment. I don’t like keeping the peace or walking on eggshells. I don’t like people threatening to walk away every time their delicate feathers get ruffled. I learned that I deserve love and understanding and optimism, too. I learned that my worth is not determined by somebody telling me I am worthy. I AM WORTHY.

And I learned that some people would disagree with that.

That year, I also learned way more about brain tumors, specifically glioblastoma multiforme, than I ever wanted to know.

Forty-five, if I had to choose a word of the year, it would be “savor”. I worked hard to savor every single moment, even during quarantine. Our home was loud and yet, peaceful. There was music and dancing every day! We hiked trails, roasted marshmallows, painted the living room, learned new skills, and socially distanced. On several occasions The Boy, Ladybug, and I snuck out in the middle of the night to leave sidewalk chalk love notes in the driveways of people we love. I met the man that Ladybug will most likely end up marrying. I renewed my relationship with one of my sisters as we cleared out my garage and then chatted over cold beers. We read tons of books and zoomed and wrote letters. My best friend and I started a podcast. We savored every single minute that we could spend with the people we love. In the fall, my sister passed away suddenly, unexpectedly, and before I was done being her little sister. That year, I learned WHY we savor every moment with the ones we love, and I carried it over to Forty-six.

Forty-six brought new friends, new adventures, and more adventures with old friends as the world opened back up. Visiting breweries, theme parks, Tiger-Con, tubing with my bestie, more hikes, swimming with manatees, and a beautiful wedding where I got to dance with my daddy one last time. I learned how to fill my own cup in 2021, and boy, was it full! Forty-five and forty-six gave me the strength to get through Forty-seven.

Forty-seven, we saw some pretty great days but losing my daddy…

I learned that there is no hurt quite like that hurt.

That brings us to this past year. Forty-eight, you have brought me hope. I hoped for things that were not meant to be and I learned that those things aren’t for me. But oh, the things that are meant for me are so, so beautiful! I watched The Boy thrive in his first year of middle school. I’ve watched Ladybug make plans for her future and build a plan with a true partner for life. I attended my 30-year High School reunion and reconnected with great friends. College football season with my bff was filled with tailgates and laughter and almost another national championship. I started a new job and opened new doors. I completed my bachelor’s degree and celebrated in Las Vegas. I’ve learned that maybe I can love and trust again. Maybe. There were times that tested us, for sure, like when my brother passed away without any warning. He was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. I miss him terribly but even so, when I look at the strength of his wife and his boys, I see hope.

So here we are, Forty-nine. I don’t know what you have in store for me. There are so many things I’d like to do this year! Travel to my mother’s homeland, learn some Spanish, maybe get another degree, or write a book, or actually get that podcast off the ground. I’d love for this year to be filled with more time with family and friends, travel, adventures, love, joy, and peace. I want more happy.

Dearest Forties, you have torn me down and rebuilt me. Somewhere along the way, all those lessons I learned became the glue to piece my heart back together. I look forward to our last year together. I am stronger than when we started. I am more confident.

I am wiser. I am resilient. I am ready.

Forty-nine…Let’s roll.

Now You Live In Me

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I look for you at your house,
The one you built with her,
The house that’s warm and welcome,
Makes me feel steady and secure.

I watch to see you waving
From the back porch in the sun,
Or catch a glimpse of you and her resting,
While watching grandkids run.

I listen for your voice
As I pause briefly at the door.
Your “come in, darlin’” never comes
‘Cause you don’t live here anymore.

Now you live in me
And the ones who knew you well,
In my smile that’s just like yours
And all the stories we will tell.

You’re in the breeze that tussles his hair
And you’re a whisper in her dreams.
You’re in our love and joy and laughter,
‘Cause now you live in me.

If she could hold you one more minute,
Just for a second touch your hand,
It might be easier to let go
Of all the adventures you had planned.

If we could just listen to your laughter
Or catch a whiff of your cologne,
Maybe our hearts would heal much faster,
Maybe we wouldn’t feel so alone.

But our hearts, they heal so slowly.
I know eventually we’ll see,
You may be gone but you’re not forgotten.
‘Cause now you live in me.

Now you live in me
And all your kids, grandkids, and wife,
In the family you created
And memories of a love larger than life.

You’re in every life that you touched
And we’ll all share the memories.
Now you live in ALL of us.
Now you live in me.

The Last Time We Danced

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I don’t remember the first time we danced, though I’ve heard all about it.

So many times, my mom told me the story of the day we met. She said that the moment you laid eyes on me, you fell in love! You scooped me up and held me close. You smiled the biggest, proudest smile and stared at me in awe, swaying with me to music that only you could hear.

I’m sure it was great.

Personally, I have no recollection because I was like, two hours old. I’ve seen pictures though, and your mustache was amazing in 1975!

I do remember many other times that we danced.

I remember you and Mom dancing in the kitchen. I would squeeze myself in between you two and get swept up in the music and the love and the perfect contentment of being the center of the universe.

I remember shaking our booties and singing at the top of our lungs about driving our Chevy to the levy. I didn’t even know what a levy was, but it was such a shame that it was dry!

I remember having to take off my shoes so I could stand on your toes without squashing them. No matter how tired you were from mowing the grass, or working in the garden, I would ask you to dance, and you would say yes. You always had a little energy left to twirl me around the living room. You would catch your breath while you watched your blended bundle of children perform Hit Me with Your Best Shot and Hot Blooded. We were pretty good! Then you’d make us listen to some “real” music like Kenny Rogers and Conway Twitty. Hello Darlin’…

I remember the summer you and my stepmom taught me to two-step. I don’t remember how to two-step, but I remember that summer! It took about 15 songs, but I finally (almost) got the hang of it.

I remember the day the question was asked, “Who gives this woman…?” You stood up proudly and said, “Her mom and I do.” And then we danced.

I was so worried that I might fall in those high-heeled shoes. But you…you just smiled and said, “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” And of course, you didn’t. We laughed and hugged and cried and danced while Celine sang “our song”. Every word of that song rang true! “You’re the one who held me up, never let me fall. You’re the one who saw me through it all.”

When my little Ladybug came along, and The Boy, too, you scooped them up, swayed with them and fell instantly in love.

You truly have seen me through it all. Through all of life’s ups and downs and even when life has run completely off the rails, you’ve taken my hand and helped me keep going. That’s what we do. We keep on dancing. We don’t give up.

That’s what we did the last time we danced at that beautiful wedding that was so full of love, laughter and two families becoming one.

They played our song.

I asked you to dance and you said yes. You still had a little energy left to twirl me around the dance floor. Even after a long day of Best Man duties and soggy weather, even after a terrifying diagnosis and two years of exhausting treatments, even after quarantines, masks, and social distancing, even forty-six years after our first dance…you said yes.

You said you were really tired and you might get dizzy.

I said, “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

And we danced.

The last time we danced was incredible. It was better than dancing at my own wedding because now I truly understand what it means to love a daughter or son. It was better than all our dancing when I was a little kid because now, I truly understand how tired you were but somehow found just a little more energy to spend time with me and make me feel loved. It was better than the first time we danced because when you met me, I was just a promise, a hope, a tiny, beautiful expectation.

But now, I’m everything I am because you loved me.

I hope you know how grateful I am and how much I love you. I appreciate every single day I have with you. I love when we talk about the meaning of life or what we had for breakfast. I will always remember all the times you made me feel safe and loved and invincible. I will always remember the things you’ve taught me, to be strong and honest and only curse when its necessary. I will always remember that we don’t give up.

And I will never forget the last time we danced.

I love you, Daddy.

In Loving Memory of My Sweet Father
Ray Tommy Roberts
November 11, 1943 – May 8, 2022
When It Rains…

When It Rains…

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In case you were unaware, my emotions control the weather.

At least, my children believe that to be true. I’m not entirely convinced that they are wrong.

As a kid, I used to try to control the lightning flashes and thunder crashes with my mind. It’s hard to say for sure if I was actually controlling them or if I just had good timing. It was Florida, there was a lot of lightning. (Side note: Storm, from the X-Men, first appeared in 1975 and so did I. Coincidence???)

So, on the 0.002% chance that my emotions actually do control the weather, I’d like to apologize for the monsoon, blizzard, dense fog and also the 80 degree days. I know it’s confusing. It’s been an emotional couple of weeks for me.

It all started out great! I was walking on sunshine, as usual. Then when I went to pick up The Boy from Cub Scouts, on that bright sunshiny day, they told me that his den was being disbanded and also, he hurt his foot playing hockey. It started to get a little cloudy right about that time.

It quickly became obvious that his foot was more than just a little hurt. He was in quite a bit of pain. I took him to Urgent Care and they did x-rays but couldn’t tell for sure if it was fractured or just banged up real bad because the injury was right along a growth plate. They recommended that we take him to the local ortho clinic and get him checked out. Ortho clinic sent him to the foot/ankle specialist. Everybody had the same answer. It might not be a fracture but whether it is or not, it’s right on the growth plate. We need to protect that! So, they booted him.

The Boy and the boot did not hit it off right away. I gotta tell you, I’ve never seen anybody want to say bad words so badly and do such a great job of controlling it! It was impressive. He got the hang of it eventually. I felt so terrible for him and I was so sad that he was hurting but I was also a little bit entertained by the melodrama.

This was about the time that the storms began. You would not believe these storms. Emotional and literal, they were big. We had a Tornado Warning while at work with about a billion people visiting our campus that day (it was actually more like 60) and my parents driving down the wide open highway to doctor appointments. Even after the warning had passed the rain just kept pouring down. So much so, that my car got stuck.

I did not park in the Everglades when I arrived at work that morning but when I went to move my car at lunch time, it was indeed a wetland. I ALMOST made it out. I probably would have if I had just floored it.

But alas, I did not.

I wasn’t the only one though. A tow company was called and they agreed to get all of us out for one fee. We were very grateful!

Funny thing happened though. They hooked up my car to the two cable and then one guy got inside my car. As he was inside my car, steering cautiously around alligators and anacondas, my car connected to my phone via bluetooth.

My car starts blasting Jam On It (Newcleus, 1984)!!! Seriously, I listen to it loud.

When he got out he told me that he was enjoying rocking out in my car! I was a little embarrassed but not really. I mean, it could have been blasting Vanilla Ice or something. So, we laughed and danced a little jig in the rain. I said “thank you” many times and told him I was so glad I could provide a little entertainment on this terrible day. Then I moved out of the way so they could continue their soggy rescue mission.

We all thought the tow team was great but we didn’t realize how great until it was time to settle up.

They didn’t charge us at all!

I think if my emotions really controlled the weather, the sun would have parted the clouds right then because that just made my day! It didn’t brighten up that day but it did stop raining eventually. However, that weekend, it snowed.

And the day after that, was the sixth anniversary of losing my mom. We could barely see through the fog. That was a pretty accurate interpretation of my emotions.

This week has continued to be filled with ups and downs, emotionally and weather-wise. I’ll try to get it under control for you.

The Boy should be out of the boot soon. I’m working on an exciting project with one of my very best friends in the world. AND my birthday is coming up. Maybe we will be having a couple of weeks of cool sunshine with a light breeze. (Maybe not.) But JUST in case we do…

You’re welcome!

I Know What’s Wrong With You

I Know What’s Wrong With You

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I have a folder in my Gmail named “Read on Bad Days” and it is exactly what it sounds like. When I’m having a bad day at work, or just a bad day in general, I open this folder and just start reading.

It has emails from lots of different people: birthday wishes, thank yous, silly poems. There’s one from my boss thanking me for making her look good. There’s an old love letter from Big Love, back when we had time to be in love, promising me that he was going to hold me in his arms and tell me he loved me every single day. There’s another email from a coworker that has become dear to me in only five months. She just wanted to let me know that she cares. She said that when she doesn’t know what to do for someone she always prays, “Let me hold them up to the light and see what shines through.”

How wonderful is that? I have a whole folder of reminders that there are so many people holding me up to the light. I’ve been reading that folder a LOT lately. Most of the time that lifts my spirits enough to get through the rough patch. Fix the divot. Patch the hole. Right what’s wrong in me.

But sometimes it’s just not enough.

I have a lot on my plate right now. A lot of worries about people I love and a lot of worries about me. I had a visit with the rheumatologist last week that gave me answers that I didn’t want to hear. I guess I should be thankful that I got some answers at all because now I can make a plan to be healthier. I’m not thankful, though. I’m a lot of things but not thankful. Not yet. I’ll be thankful later.

Right now, I’m mad that I can’t just take a pill or have a surgery and make it all better. I’m mad that Ladybug is getting all the same answers! I’m mad at myself for feeling sorry for myself when there are bigger things looming in the not too distant future. I’m mad that it’s 2020 and there’s STILL no cure for cancer! I’m mad that time just keeps ticking no matter how badly I need it to pause. I’m mad that sometimes the thing that can give you more time steals the reasons why you want more! I’m mad that humans aren’t kinder to each other. And I’m mad that some promises are too hard to keep.

And I’m sad, so very sad, because there’s nothing I can do to change any of those things.

No amount of loving and uplifting emails is going to change any of it but still I read them every day. Hoping that some of the love and kindness that was sent in them will shine through me, carry me along a little longer.

I think we all should have a folder like that, full of things that will make you smile even if just for a few minutes. And I hope that if you go and make a Read On Bad Days folder you will stick this in it because I know what’s wrong with you.

I see you posting uplifting memes on FaceBook that you know your friend needs to see. But you need to see it, too! I see you carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and still trying to help your friends carry theirs. I see you offering help but never asking. I know we all have obstacles to overcome but we don’t have to do it alone. Even when we literally have to do it alone we can still cheer each other on and hold each other up to the light. We can be strengthened by helping others be strong.

I know there are days when you feel like nothing you do is going to be enough but you keep going anyway. You just keep going.

I know what’s wrong with you because it’s the same thing that’s wrong with me.

Life is heavy.

Every single one of us has a load to carry. Sometimes it’s not bad at all. Sometimes it feels like you are breaking. Those are the times that you have to hold tight to the people pulling for you. Read all the memes with the pretty pictures and save them to a special folder on your phone (I have one of those, too.) or screenshot the texts from your friends saying “You got this.” Because you do.

And I do, too.

I don’t really believe that yet but I’ll keep saying it until I do. Tell yourself it’s going to be alright and listen to others when they tell you. The words won’t change anything but they can keep you going until you really are alright.

And I will like all the memes you keep posting for both of us. I’ll post some for you, too. I’ll read my “Read On Bad Days” emails and I will tell myself, “See, Regina??? You’re awesome! Everything is going to be alright.”

You should tell yourself that, too. If you can’t, then hear me when I tell you.

You are awesome. Everything is going to be alright.

P.S. The Boy

P.S. The Boy

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I have always loved a good Post Script on a letter. It’s a wonderful way to add in something you wanted to say but it just didn’t quite happen in the main part. A post script allows you to go off topic and just throw in something beautiful, like “P.S. I love you.”

Sometimes life is like that, too. You do your best to live a life that makes you happy and sometimes you get to the end of a chapter but you need to add a little something.

We had some major excitement at work this past week and I was a little worried that we were going to have to deliver a baby in the parking lot! It all turned out okay (ambulance arrived before we had to boil water and get some towels) but it has me thinking a lot about my little post script – The Boy.

There is a thirteen year age gap between Ladybug and The Boy. I often joke that I have “bookends” but no books. It wasn’t that I didn’t want more books. Ladybug begged for a little brother for all thirteen of those years! It just didn’t go that way. Then, right about the time that THAT chapter was coming to an end we decided to throw in a little something beautiful – P.S. The Boy.

Today we celebrate nine years since The Boy entered our lives and Wow, did he make an entrance. We’ve had nine years of watching him grow and attempting to keep up with his energy and his curiosity and his big big brain! Ladybug has had nine years of teaching him how to be really annoying and then getting annoyed by the things she taught him. It’s been an adventure!

In my previous blog, Spinning Plates, I told the story of his arrival and I thought this would be a good time to share it again. It was a good day but the days that followed have been even better. Ladybug absolutely adores the brother that she waited forever for, even when she wants to punch him in the face. I think The Boy is conducting an experiment to see exactly how many buttons he can push before she bursts into flames. You can really feel the love. (That made me laugh out loud when I typed it!)

They really do care for each other, though. Support each other’s interests and take care of each other’s hearts and they are prepared to take down anybody that hurts the other. They love each other just a little bit.

P.S. I love them!

The Boy Arrives Originally Published November 15, 2011 on http://www.thespin.blog.com

For those of you interested in this sort of thing, I thought I would share one of those “Stories for Another Day” – the whole story of one very exciting Friday – January 21, 2011 – the day we welcomed The Boy into the world. It’s totally TMI but it’s a good story.

On Thursday, January 20th, Big Love and I attended our FIRST childbirth class at the hospital. We learned a lot about breathing through contractions and relaxation techniques. But the instructor pointed out that the most important part of being the coach was knowing mommy and what she needs and being able to follow her cues. When we got home we had a long talk about what relaxes me and what kind of delivery I wanted to have. I really didn’t want any drugs but I realized that sometimes plans change and I just wanted what was best for The Boy. Big Love agreed and told me that if I wanted this delivery to be drug free then he had absolute faith in me that it would be drug free and everything would be just fine. Apparently The Boy was listening to his Daddy and took that as his cue.

Friday morning about 5 a.m. I was startled awake by the sensation that I was peeing myself. I had that “Holy cow!” moment but was able to stop the flow and went to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up, changed jammies and went back to bed. Not too long later the same thing happened. I thought “Okay, EIGHT months with no bladder control trouble and now this?!?!?!?!”

Then it happened again.

Yes, it did occur to me that it could be my water breaking but at 35 weeks…Nahhh. And I could stop the flow so surely the baby had changed positions or something and now I was going to need diapers for the last month of my pregnancy.

So Big Love went to work. The Teenager missed the bus and I drove her to school and wet myself again as I was getting out of the Jeep to come home. Okay, somethings up. I called in sick to work and said something lame like “sinus trouble” or something because no way was I going to say “I can’t come in today because I can’t stop wetting myself.” Then I actually chatted with two of my bffs and laughed that I wasn’t going to work because I keep peeing my pants!

Around 8:30, I called the doctors office and told them what was going on. The nurse told me to come in because it could be that he just shifted or it could be something else. She said “I would feel better if you just came in. Can you be here at 9:15?”

Ummmmm….no, of course I can’t be there in 30 minutes! I’ve gotta shower! I told her I could be there at 10:15.

Big Love said he would go with me to the doctor’s just to make sure everything was alright. He called my Daddy to “mind the store” and told him “We won’t be long. I should be back by 1:00.” Famous last words.

While I was in the shower there was a moment of “Oh! That was a lot of pressure.” Followed by a “Oooooh. THAT was a LOT of pressure.”

By the time we got to the doctor’s office I knew exactly what was going on but thought I would be polite and let the midwife tell me. After all, we really adore her and she cleared her schedule to see me, it was only fair. So she did the litmus test and it IMMEDIATELY turned blue. Big Love’s eyes got real big and he said “That turned awful fast.” We knew what that meant because it was one of the things discussed in our childbirth class. She went to do the ferning test and when she walked back in the room she said “Well, we get to have a baby today!”

Yeah, I knew what was going on but something about her saying it out loud was a little too real. But that was okay because I had been so calm this whole time and JUST when I started to get nervous a serenity came over my husband. He just said “Okay.” And smiled like she had just asked him if he’d like to be king of the world.

She said she didn’t want to disturb anything “down there” but she wanted to check me just to see how things were progressing. I have never seen anybody move more slowly or cautiously. She VERY gently removed her hand and said “Go straight to the hospital. DO NOT stop anywhere. I will meet you there. Walk SLOWLY.”

I was at 6 centimeters.

Yes, I had a hospital checklist. I had a birthplan in the works. But I had not packed a thing. I didn’t have a gown to wear at the hospital. I didn’t have The Boy’s little hat embroidered like I had planned. Or put together the little goodies for hospital visitors. I had a month to finish all that stuff or that was the plan. Plans change.

The people at the hospital must not be used to people coming in calmly and telling them that they’re having a baby because they certainly didn’t seem in any rush. I would close my eyes and hold Big Love’s hand through contractions as they made a copy of my insurance card and asked me “How do you spell your street name?” (Oh yes, PLEASE make sure that my street address is spelled right, just in case you need to MAIL my son to me. Don’t want him going to the wrong address! ) Just when I was about to yell that they needed to step it up a notch she said – “Okay. We’ll show you upstairs.” Oh thank goodness!

When we got up there it wasn’t much better. I stopped at the counter and told them who I was. They asked why I was there. I said “My midwife should have faxed over my information. I’m here to have a baby.”

They looked at me.

And then they looked at me some more.

Why wasn’t anybody MOVING??? I asked “Would it help if I did this?” And I drooped over the counter and said “I’M HAVING A BABY RIGHT NOW!” The snarky nurse said “You’ll get more attention like that.” By that time, they found the orders that the midwife had faxed over and at noon a nurse (beautiful, lovely, one of my new favorite people) took me to a room, put me in a gown and put me in bed. A wonderful soft clean warm bed.

My father-in-law showed up to see how things were going and Big Love told him “Fast.” He was only there a few minutes (we chatted about something but I don’t really remember what) and then I told my husband that it was time to kick out his dad. The nurse needed to check me. The nurse said “I don’t want to disturb anything down there.” And then looked at the little machine thingy that measures contractions and with eyes wide said “MAN! You are bangin’ ‘em out! Yeah, I’ll check you.”

She checked and immediately started buzzing the nurses desk and told them to call the midwife and get her here NOW. She told me to try not to push until the midwife got there but if I needed to push just tell her first.

My Big Love was right by my side the whole time just quietly holding me but now he knew this was his turn at bat. He grasped my hand and put his other hand on my head and started rubbing my head telling me everthing was going to be okay. He breathed with me and told me everything I needed to hear. “You can do this, baby. I’m right here. I love you so much.” Hearing his voice, so reassuring, really helped me to focus on what we were here to do. Bring our son into the world.

The midwife arrived in record time and I was SOOOO glad to see her. I don’t think I could have breathed through many more of those contractions, no matter how much my hubby loves me!

I don’t know what time it was when we started pushing but I know that Big Love held my hand (and a leg) through the whole thing. And the nurse (holding my other leg) counted while we took deep breathes and pushed, pushed, pushed, pushed.

At 12:53, my husband looked at me with the biggest smile and said “Honey, HE LOOKED AT ME!” One more little push and The Boy was all the way out. The midwife laid him on my chest and he was so beautiful and so wiggly and really really pissed. He cried and it sounded like a little goat – an angry little goat. The midwife had prepared me for a really skinny, not-so-cute preemie but he was gorgeous at 6 lb 5 oz and 19 3/4 inches long.

The midwife asked Big Love if he’d like to cut the cord and he said “Where do I cut?” As soon as The Boy heard his voice he started blinking and turning his head in his daddy’s direction as if to say “Be careful Daddy. Give me a nice inny!”

And Big Love did.

Get Used To It

Get Used To It

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It’s amazing what you can get used to. The first time you see something strange you may be shocked and appalled. Then you see it a few more times and you just shake your head. After a few more times, you don’t even blink. It’s like you don’t even know that it’s weird anymore.

Sometimes that’s good. When my little Ladybug was born she had Syndactyly. She was so tiny and beautiful and perfect but there was this one little hand that didn’t look like the other. It looked so strange to me, like she was wearing the tiniest mitten.

She had her first surgery at four months old and they continued until she was two. I had to change her bandages and clean the wounds and once the doctor even had to talk me through removing some stitches that were not dissolving. Sounds nuts, right?

I just got used to it. It was what I needed to do as her mama, so I did it.

And after a while, that little “lucky fin” didn’t seem weird anymore. It was precious! I loved that little hand! Especially that tiny pinky! I have gotten so used to it that when a friend showed me a picture of another kid with a lucky fin, it took me a lot longer than it should have to notice it.

Sometimes, though, it’s not so good to just get used to things the way they are. Just because things have been a certain way for a long time, doesn’t mean they have to stay that way. It’s almost like you forget that they should be different, or that it’s even possible!

I’ve been in pain for a long time. Migraines, joint pain, back pain, they’ve all kind of run my life for a while now. When they first started getting bad, I just took some Advil and went about my business. But then they got so bad that the medicine wasn’t working. So, I did what any crazy person would, I just got used to it.

Maybe it’s because I’m so old and wise now (I am neither of those!) but I don’t want to just get used to things like that anymore! I don’t remember the last time I was pain-free but I do know that this weekend I was as close to pain-free as I have been in a long time. It’s because I finally remembered that it’s weird to always have an ache somewhere and I did something about it. (Hopefully, I can keep the aches under control because I had a very productive weekend of Feng Shui-ing my bedroom!)

Similar things are going on with my Ladybug – physical aches and pains. Also, some emotional growing pains and trying to find her place in the world. It’s tough.

But I’m making sure that she does things differently. We talk about things that I never would have dreamed of talking about with my mother! We are asking questions, even the dumb ones, just to see what answers are in the world and which answers might work for her.

We are also talking to doctors NOW about why she’s in so much pain. They’ve run blood tests and done a bunch of xrays. She has an MRI scheduled for next week. Maybe when she’s my age she will know that you don’t have to hurt all the time. Maybe she will keep looking for answers instead of just getting used to it.

Of course, sometimes doctors don’t have all the answers. Like the doctor who informed us today that one of her hands is smaller than the other. He said it was congenital and asked if we had any concerns.

Uhhhhhhhh…no. We’ve been aware of the Lucky Fin for about 22 years now, but thanks.

So, maybe that particular doctor didn’t have answers but he did provide me with a car ride full of eye rolling and semi hysterical laughter with my sweet and brave daughter.

I could get used to that.

Tonight We Cried

Tonight We Cried

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I can’t believe it’s 2020! All around me people are talking about their resolutions and what they’re going to do different this year. I am so excited for them! I know my year will be full of character building opportunities and things that don’t kill me and, I’m sure, some personal growth.

Growth is hard, though. And often painful.

Tonight was a pretty rough night in our house. I had some difficult conversations and had to say things that I thought I would never have to say – things that I hoped and prayed I would never have to say. Tonight I said them.

At bedtime, I tucked the covers around The Boy and crawled into his bed to snuggle for a bit. (He is the best snuggler!) He reached into his repertoire of Sleep Evading Maneuvers and pulled out Thought Provoking Questions. He almost always wins with that one.

He asked how long it’s been since he’s been to school and I told him, about three full weeks. Then I had to remind him that before vacation he had his tooth pulled. How could he forget that?!?!? THAT was a terrible day!

I kept him out of school because of a bad toothache and made him an appointment with the dentist. The dentist did an x-ray and said he had developed a cavity in the tooth and now there was a slight abscess – not big enough to cause serious problems but big enough to cause a lot of pain. The tooth had to come out.

So we waited around the office for two and a half hours for them to work us into the schedule and then finally took him back. They started the laughing gas and knew he was ready when he started asking if the nurse had his rocks. (WHAT ROCKS???) He wasn’t laughing but we sure were!

They used plenty of Novocain and numbed him up real good. He was drooling like a Bull Mastiff! But when they tried to pull the tooth, it just wasn’t going down without a fight. The dentist pulled and wiggled and wiggled and pulled but that sucker was STUCK. It was taking so long and the roots were so deep that the Novocain wasn’t helping anymore. My Boy started feeling the pain and started crying. He pulled me close to him and held on as tight as he could.

Well, of course, as soon as he started crying , he couldn’t breathe in the laughing gas anymore so that started wearing off. Things were going south pretty quickly! The dentist said, “We’ve got to just do it. Okay?” Okay. So I draped myself over The Boy like a security blanket and the Hygienist held all the tools with one hand and gently stroked The Boy’s head with her other. And the Dentist pulled with all his might.

The Boy let out a wail that could be heard throughout the building but that damn tooth finally came out!!!

The bleeding stopped pretty quickly but it took about an hour to get The Boy to stop crying. I held him and rocked him and soothed him and did all the Mommy things but he just couldn’t get the crying under control. When I told him he sounded like Moaning Myrtle (from Harry Potter) he didn’t even laugh. It was pretty horrible for all involved and took a while for the healing to begin.

So when he asked me tonight how long it had been since he’d been to school, we had to factor in winter break and tooth extraction recovery time. It’s been a while.

Then he started asking other questions. Big questions.

Questions about life and some about death. Questions about love and losing love. Questions about red-tailed black sharks being critically endangered. We talked about all kinds of things.

Then he got quiet and wrapped his little arms around me and began to cry.

I held him close and I cried too. At one point, he said, “I don’t even know why I’m crying. Do you?”

I gave him the best answer I could come up with on short notice and tears streaming down my face…

Tonight we cry because our hearts have been broken. We cry for those poor red-tailed black sharks. We cry because we’ve lost people we love and because we know we’re going to lose more people we love. We cry because tomorrow is Monday and we have to go back to reality after we’ve spent two weeks playing and reading and building ALL the Lego sets. We cry because it will be so good to see all our friends that we have missed so much! Tonight we cry.

But tomorrow…tomorrow we will get up and our hearts will be a little less broken. We will hold each other close and soak in the strength of the people who are always there for us. The daylight will help us remember good things about those we’ve lost and give us the opportunity to make more memories with those we still have. We’ll get to see our friends again and hug them so tight! Maybe we’ll even think of a way to help that shark!

Tomorrow we will be strong again and put on happy faces and have wonderful days but tonight we cried.