Late Night Phone Calls

I hate late night phone calls.  If you grew up with drama and alcoholics, I know you understand what I'm talking about here.  If the phone rings after 11:00 pm, it is usually not good.  In fact, it's usually really, really bad.

I remember being a little girl and my parents getting late night phone calls.  It was rarely a good thing.  I was 15 when my dad's dad passed away.  To say that there was unfinished business between them is an understatement.  The phone rang, he answered, he hung up and said, "He's dead."  That was it.  Then he started to cry.  What I remember most is that my mom didn't come out of the bedroom to comfort him.  It was really uncomfortable.  We were such a healthy family...

Once I moved out, my phone rang all the time.  Seems my parents couldn't survive without me.  Well, okay, my dad was blind and really did need my help but my mom just wanted to be sure that if she was up and troubled, everyone was up and troubled.  My dad called one night when my sister had freaked out on PCP and put her arm through seven windows of the house and then dumped a trash can full of water on him.  She probably would have gotten more violent with him but she saw the blood and that brought her back to reality.  He called 911 and then me.  I cleaned up the house for him.

Then she freaked out once and attacked my parents after the hubs and I had taken her out for dinner.  She drank too much (duh) and insisted we take her home (where my niece was with my parents - she was all of two).  Long after everyone should have been asleep the phone rang - this time they called me BEFORE 911.  Really?

Lots and lots of other calls like this.  A car accident.  Someone's sick and needs to go to the hospital NOW.  Your dad has had a stroke.  Your husband's sister has passed away.  Someone needs to be picked up because they can't drive or they are with someone who can't drive (YES I'll be there right away.)  Someone is drunk and just wants to talk (NO call me when you're sober).

For a long time I would unplug the phone at night because my sister got more "active" after the sun went down.  Then I had kids who were out and about in the evening and so the phone had to stay on...thank goodness for caller ID and voicemail.

But those times have passed.  I haven't had a late night phone call like that in over 10 years (since my nephew deleted my phone number from my sister's phone).  My mom lived with us until she died so I knew what was going on with her.  You'd think I'd be over it.

But I'm not.

Last night my nephew called.  He used his fiance's phone.  When I saw her name, my first thought was, "Oh my God, what has Michael done now."  My heart started beating in my ears and a pit the size of Chicago formed in my stomach.  I answered the phone and heard his voice.  It was only 10:00 my time but it still freaked me out.

He needed the email address and password to the Netflix account.

I spoke with him for awhile, laughed with him and gave him the info.  Then I hung up and thought, "When will this reaction ever end?"

Answer...probably never.  I'm a product of conditioning.

Just call me Pavlov's pooch.

Namaste

What the world needs is a good sarcasm font...

Yesterday I was reading a post over on Renegade Mothering who wrote what I consider to be a brilliant post on offending people.  (Warning:  If you don't understand or particularly like sarcasm as well as irreverent and over-the-top humor you should probably NOT click on that link.  However if you, like me, enjoy the hell out of it then by all means check her out.)  In it she discussed how sensitive we've all become and how she really doesn't care if she offends you because it's a fact of human nature.  At one time in all of our lives we will either be offended or offend someone.

So. What.

Please don't get me wrong...I would never, ever get out of bed and start my day with, "Hmmm...today I think I'll offend someone and totally piss them off!  That will make my day!"  In fact, I'm a people pleaser (I'm trying to stop it but it's hard) so to do this would go against the core of my being and would likely cause me to spontaneously combust.  Nevertheless, I have, on occasion said something or done something that has offended.  I know it's hard to believe but it is true.

So. What.

Apologize, or don't.  Move on, or don't.  Put on your big girl panties and/or boxers (I don't judge) and deal.  We're all grown-ups here. We've all become so politically correct that All In The Family wouldn't even make it on the air now (probably why you never see it in reruns) which would be a crime.  We're so sanitized that we're afraid to open our mouths for fear of offending someone.  The only thing not politically correct in this world are the politicians!  But I digress...That's not really what this post is about.

I went back and read the post in question - the one that apparently created a firestorm of comments, hurt feelings and trolling.  The post was...meh.  But the comments!  Oh my good gracious!  Obviously there are way more people out their with way more time on their hands than me because they were (and continue to from what I can tell) engaging in a full on web-based bitch slap session!  Who has time for that shit?  I feel the same way about this that I do about television, radio and social media...if it offends you, TURN IT OFF.

If what is on TV is not to your liking, then remove the television from your home.  If you're worried about what your children are watching then parent them, monitor what they watch, use the child block feature on your TV or call your cable network and block the channels.  Or remove the damn thing and hand them a book.

If you stumble on a blogger that you don't agree with and you comment and express your view, than move the hell on.  If subsequent posts continue to offend you then don't go back to that site!  When you stumble upon a radio station that's playing music or talk you don't like do you continue to listen?  Not me, I push those buttons and find something that I can sing along with and annoy the hell out of my family.  After all, we're usually in a car and I have them captive and I get so few opportunities like this anymore...

If I knew Renegade (which I don't but I wish I did because I think we'd be besties) I would tell her that once you've apologized for offending and explained over and over and over again that sarcasm is, in fact, an effective form of communication and that obviously the post was meant to be a joke, you should let it go and not have to apologize any longer FOR WHAT YOU WRITE IN YOUR OWN FUCKING BLOG!

Then again, she certainly doesn't need my advice.  She has thousands and thousands of readers and some of her posts have even gone viral while I have tens of readers (whom I adore) and am fairly new to this.  So actually, if I knew Renegade, she would obviously tell me to shut the fuck up and stop giving her advice because we're not, nor have we ever been, besties and I'm just a creepy lurker on her blog that worships the ground she writes on.

And if the world had a good sarcasm font that entire last sentence would be in it and you wouldn't be scratching your head right now wondering where my good sense has gone.

End of rant.  Thanks for listening.

Namaste

Boats and Blogger

Okay, sometimes I'm dense.  Sometimes I don't always see things when they are right in front of me.  But most times I'm sharp and intuitive.  I can tell what someone is feeling just by being in their presence.  I can pick up on clues from my students and use those clues to guide the room to the learning I want them to have.  I know what my husband is thinking before he does.

Then why can't I figure out what the hell God wants me to do?  

There's an old joke that goes something like this...
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A terrible storm blows through a town and leaves it flooded.  An old man who lives alone in his home, climbs to his roof to escape the rising water and begins to pray.  "Lord," he prays, "save me from this rising water...don't let me drown."

About that time a rescue boat comes by and tries to get the old man to get in the boat.  He refuses.  "God will save me," he says.

Two more rescue boats come by and try to save the man and each time he refuses with the same refrain, "God will save me."

He drowns.

When he gets to heaven his asks God, "Why didn't you save me?  I prayed and prayed and you let me drown."

God replies, "Dude!  I sent you three boats!"
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I don't want to be that guy but I also don't want to be the whack job that thinks every time she stubs her toe that it's a sign from God she needs new shoes!  Wait...that might be a good one...I might want to rethink that.

ANYWAY...Suddenly there are a wealth of new roles coming up in my particular expertise.  With the blessing of my current boss, I have applied for a couple of these.  I try to say, "if God wants me to go down this path, then everything will come together."  I try.  But then I think, have I done enough?  Should I be reaching out to people and greasing the skids so to speak or should I just sit back and let the Big Guy work?  Then, if nothing happens, is it my fault or was it all just meant to be?  Does He have bigger plans in store for me or did I totally miss the boat (get it...miss the boat...haha)?  How do I know when to let Him do the heavy lifting and when I should be lifting as well?

It's all very confusing.  Or is it just that I can't let go?  I have a headache and I need some chocolate.

Namaste

PS - and my Blogger is acting very, very weird.  I'm not sure if they're on to me at work or if it's Blogger but I'm having to click a bunch of formatting buttons before it will let me type in the text box AND I can't use my mouse. 

Maybe it's sunspots.  Or maybe it's a sign!  Nah...it's probably sunspots.

Family

I have these individual metal letters that spell out the word 'family' that sit on my mantle in my family room.  My husband and kids think it's funny to rearrange the letters to read other nonsensical things.  Things like ima fly or ifamly or mafily...you get the picture.  They know that it upsets my sense of order and balance so it makes them happy. 

I aim to please!

But the rearrangement of the letters got me thinking about the concept of 'family' and what it's really come to mean to me.  When I was a kid, I bought into the whole Norman Rockwell, Currier & Ives version of family.  The Brady Bunch and Father's Knows Best version of dad goes to work everyday and comes home to mom and the kids.  Everyone is well fed and doesn't want for anything so, therefore, they're happy.  Since my home life was more along the lines of Arrested Development, I couldn't figure out what we were doing wrong.  NO ONE was ever happy in my house.  We had moments but when I look at the relative bliss in which my kids were raised, I'm pretty sure that "happy" wasn't an adjective often used to describe my younger self.

What I should have been doing was paying more attention to Disney and my fairy tales.  Cinderella had no biological parents and the step-mother and step-sisters she had left were narcissistic bitches.  We have no idea where SnowWhite came from but she ended up living with seven dwarfs who became her pseudo-family.  Daddy issues anyone?  Then there's Hansel & Gretel who's father didn't have the balls to stand up to his wife when she banished the children from their home which means he was likely an abused spouse.  (In some versions of the story he finally turns on his wife and goes in search of the kids but geez!).  Then there is poor neglected Little Red Riding Hood who's parents didn't give a rat's ass about her so they sent her alone to grandma's through the woods for Christ's sake! 

Now that's more like the family I knew and loved.  Kinda makes you all warm and fuzzy inside - or maybe that's the pizza I had for lunch, but I digress.

As I was got older and realized that my home wasn't exactly the poster child for functional, I looked for examples of what I should do to make my home more NORMAL.  I tuned in to...The Cosby Show.  Come on!  A doctor and a lawyer?  Living in a brownstone in Harlem (80's price roughly 2.2 million).  Yeah...not going to happen in my house.  Bankers...we're simple bankers.  Simple poor bankers.

But really, that was about it for functional.  Just about the time I started building a functional life, TV gave me dysfunction that was functioning.  Mork & Mindy?  Alien and humans.  Kate & Allie?  Single moms raising kids.  Webster?  Inter-racial family with a cute kid and EXTREMELY rich white parents.  Punky Brewster?  Another cute little kid without parents being raised by some old fart. (That one always gave me the creeps...refer to yesterday's post.)  Newhart?  Inbreeding at its best.  (Darryl and Darryl anyone?)  One Day at a Time?  Single mom, out of control teen, goody goody teen, busy body super.  Roseanne?  Puh-leeeeze!  My real life was too much like that...you know, minus all the functional parts.

Then comes the 90's when I actually had children and the concept of the traditional "family" went all the way to hell in the proverbial hand basket.

Seinfeld - a group of friends who merely tolerate each other and all hate being around their parents.
Friends - a group of friends who really love each other and still hate being around their parents.
Married With Children - okay...this is even too much for me.
Home Improvement - closer to my version of Norman Rockwell but are men really this stupid? 
Full House - cutest baby of all time but who the heck are these men living in a $10 million dollar home in San Francisco?
Fresh Prince of Bel Air - money on top of money on top of more money.
Murphy Brown - angry woman in DC.  Not really that far fetched when you think about it.  Did I mention she lived in Georgetown?  In a brownstone?  Yep, you guessed it - money!

What that all said to me was that in order to be normal I had to be abnormal and have lots and lots of money because cleary, money solved all of what was wrong in the world. 

Yeah...not so much.

This is about the point we turned off network TV and began watching only animated or educational shows during the day and either HGTV, Food Network or the History Channel at night.  Now I only have to feel inadequate when it comes to the way my house looks, the meals I feed my children and the crimes against humanity that my race, gender or country may have committed over the last 2000 years or so. 

But family?  That part I think we've figured out in spite of the messages sent to us over the airways.  For us it's a house open at all times to whomever needs a hug, a meal, or a sanctuary.  My nuclear family is a hodgepodge of people drawn together by love rather than blood who actually enjoy each other's company.  The complexion and dynamic of this thing we call family changes every minute and we adapt and grow and bloom right along with it.

And we don't need TV, or Disney or fairy tales to tell us how it should be.  We write our own story every single day.

Namaste

A Letter to Me

Brad Paisley has this amazing song titled "Letter to Me" in which he sings to his 17 year old self about things he should or shouldn't do and why.  It's funny and beautiful and I cry every time I hear it.

This morning when I was considering a blog post the idea of me as a little girl popped into my head.  In my head, my little girl is always sad, and anxious, and frightened.  She never wants to go home and all she wants is to be loved.  I have no idea if this is how I really felt, only what I think I felt.  Who knows how life has tinted my memories?  Perhaps and little bluer than it actually was?  Probably.

But, if I could speak to that little girl what would I say?  What would I tell her?  I don't want to change any of the events of my life no matter how difficult, they made me who I am today.  But I would like her to know a few things...

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Dear Sherry -

If you're reading this then you are about 8 years old or maybe you are 12 or maybe you are 15.  It doesn't really matter.  At any age, you likely spend most of your time apologizing and trying to figure out how to fix what's wrong with you and your family.  You think everyone else has it all figured out.  You don't feel like you really fit in anywhere.  You dont' fit in your own skin, don't have the right clothes, don't have enough money, aren't there at the right time....whatever. 

I'm here to share a few insights... 

First, you are a beautiful girl.  You are smart and funny and people love to see you smile.  Your presence lights up a room and people are drawn to be near you.  There is nothing wrong with you.  God made you perfect and in His image and Jesus loves you exactly as you are.  You are a loyal friend, fiecely honest, and when you open your heart to people it's all the way.  Unfortunately that makes you vulnerable and you will be hurt.  Don't let this change you.  It's worth the risk.

The problems that exist in your life right now, are not of your making.  Your parents had very difficult lives as children and they are broken.  They are doing the best they know how but unfortunately no one ever taught them so they don't know how to love you.  This has nothing to do with who you are or anything that you have done or will ever do.  It's really not about you little one.  You are perfect.

One day, your grandmother's boyfriend will molest you and your sister.  When this starts, stand up for yourself and refuse to be treated this way.  Scream it, report it, tell your father and your teachers.  It's okay.  The man is sick and your grandmother is afraid.  Don't let them stop you.  Fight for your right to be a child.

One day when you are much older, your father will make these advances too - remember that it's the alcohol and try to forgive his attempt.  Nothing will happen because you are strong and smart - but don't let the attempt wound your heart forever.  Let it go.  Forgive.

Your little sister is very cute now and will be a very beautiful woman one day.  Do not compare yourself to her.  You are also beautiful.  The acne will clear.  You will fix your teeth.  Convince your heart right now that you are beautiful and deserving of love.  Carry yourself with this certainty.  Feel it in your heart.

Your sister will have many difficulties and make many poor choices as she grows.  Know that you are not your sister's mother and are not responsible for anything that she does.  Let her walk her path and you walk yours.  Try to help her if you can but one day, when you have to let her go, know that it's okay.  Nothing she has ever done is or was your fault.  You didn't cause it, you can't cure it and you can't control it.  (Don't worry, you'll learn what this means one day.)

Learn to pray like God is your friend.  You don't have to pray the way the nuns and the priests say you have to pray.  You can just talk to God like you're talking to your bestest friend ever.  That's because He is your bestest friend ever and will never leave your side...no matter what.  Talk to him.  He listens.  It's okay to ask for stuff too.  Sometimes the answer is no but He will always answer.

One day when you are grown, a gentle and sweet man, who is a little older than you, will come along and tell you he loves you and that he'll always be there for you...believe him.  When he tells you that you are beautiful, believe him.  When he says he'll love you "at least until tomorrow", know that it's his way of saying forever and go with it.  This man has truly been sent by God.  He is meant for you.

Do not start drinking wine or beer or anything like it.  No matter how much you want/need to escape.  Think of it the way you will come to think of drugs.  Bad news...You will experience many bad things because of drinking.  Things that happen to others at first, and then to you.  Don't start.  It's just not worth it.

When you think that you will never have a child...don't despair.  God has wonderful plans in store for you.  Be patient.  You won't ever regret a moment of being a mother.  And don't be afraid to be a mom.  Follow your heart and your husband and you will turn out wonderful children...all six of them!

On a cold and icy day in February in 1996, you father will leave you to be with Jesus.  Let yourself cry.  Grieve.  Break down.  Let others love and support you through this. You do not have to be the strong one.  You do not have to carry the entire load.  Your husband and your friends will be there - lean on them.

And one final thing.  When you leave that cardiac care room to go home on December 13, 2006 and the urge hits you to turn around and say, "I love you" to our mother, please don't hesitate...just do it.  You will regret it forever if you don't...trust me, I know.

Love,
Your grown self

Namaste

Sometimes...

...even now, I look at my children sleeping and my heart swells to the point of bursting.  What did I ever do to deserve such blessings?

...I wonder where the bugs in my house go when they run away from me and how many there really are in my walls.  I don't sleep well when I wonder this.

...I wonder why Map Quest always takes me through the worst part of town.  I mean, I know I grew up in the ghetto but I really have no need to visit all of the other ghettos in all of the other cities to which I travel.

...I want to just go to the airport and buy a ticket to the first city I see on the departure board.  Of course my OCD/Taurus mind won't let that happen unless I research the city, make hotel and dinner reservations and find the nearest shopping mall.  Kind of defeats the purpose.

...I just start talking to God mid sentence.  I know this aggravates my friends when I do it to them, but I figure he already knows what I was thinking anyway right?

...I wonder how people get through a day without talking to God?  I asked my son the other day if he prayed.  He said, "yes but not every day".  Really?  I chat with God like I'm IM'ing Him.  Just random nothings or deep prayers - doesn't matter.  We're tight.  I'm going to have to mention this to the boys so they don't think praying has to be a formal event.

...the need I have to be near the ocean or Chesapeake Bay is a physical pull that can actually hurt.

...I'm in the middle of an argument and I realize I'm wrong.  I hate it when that happens.

...I reach a point at work when I realize that I am finished being productive for the day.  It's bad when that happens at 10:00 in the morning but I just think of that as my brain needing some down time.  I embrace it.

...a song gets stuck in my head and it can stay there for days.  Often it's annoying but most times I just go with it and sing it until even my brain is tired of hearing it and it goes away.

...I get frustrated with women who feel the need to downplay their strengths because they feel like they are bragging.  This is exactly why men do so much better in the business world than we do.  I am smart - much smarter than many of my colleagues.  It's not bragging, it's a strength that should be put to use.  I refuse to bury that. 

...I also get frustrated with men when they fail to realize that women are not supposed to be exactly like them either at home or in the workplace.  Women bring a different perspective to a situation that is supposed to be different than their male counterparts.  It's how we are wired...on purpose.  Don't fuck around with God's plan.  Go with it.

...I read a sentence three or four times and still have no idea what I've read.

...I can spend hours in Staples or CVS just "window" shopping.

...I wish I had an aptitude for technology.  I still can't figure out how the picture gets into the TV and when people try to explain it to me I find I don't really care.  Just shut up and let me see the end of this show.

...I ask my husband to pull my finger.

...when I walk through automatic doors I pretend I'm magical.  I wave my arms in the air, embarrass my boys, and shout "wingardia leviosa".  Being my child may not be perfect, but it's never boring.

...I marvel at the man that is my husband.  He frustrates me and is turning into an unhappy, grumpy old man but he's my unhappy, grumpy old man and I'll pull him through this phase of life the way I've pulled him through all of the others.  Just like he does for me. 

And finally, sometimes I wonder what would have happened and where I would be if I hadn't quit drinking.  But fortunately that's only sometimes.  Most times I'm just grateful as hell that I did.

Namaste

The Pride of the Chesapeake Bay

Yesterday I attended my first wedding since I put down my wine glass.  It was also my first "child of a friend" wedding.  I discovered two things...

First...I'm old.  Most of the couples' friends were in their mid to late twenties and I shit you not, looked about twelve.  At one point I said to the father of the bride, "Who the hell invited all these kids and where are their parents?"  He said, "Um...that would be us."

I did very much enjoy watching the thirty something's try to pretend they were still young on the dance floor...they did okay.  Then there were the forty something's who were doing the same thing but not nearly as well...they looked just a little pathetic.  But my favorite were my fellow fifty something's and I on the dance floor knowing full well we had already deeded all manner of hipness and cool (along with all of our rhythm) to the twenty something's and not caring!  We danced and had fun and laughed and hugged.  And props to the mother of the bride who is one of my fellow fifty something's, and who did a passable Wobble.  Rock on my friend.

There was a very sweet moment when the photographer caught Bill and I canoodling at the table.  She snapped us and then sat down to say, "Are you guys married?"  I replied that yes we were.  " How long," she asked.  "Thirty years," I said.

"Wow!  And you still kiss after all this time?"

Uh...yeah.   Wait.  What?

She seemed genuinely shocked.  And she photographs weddings!!!  Guess locking lips ain't what it used to be.

The second thing I learned was this...

It wasn't as much fun without the wine.

At first.

The wedding was held at a resort on the Chesapeake Bay.  A beautiful, fancy resort.  The sun was shining and a breeze was gently blowing off the water to cool the guests.  I looked up to the hotel and saw the bay front rooms with chairs perched perfectly to watch the sunset.  Then I looked directly to my right to see the outdoor cafe, complete with a covered bar.  I closed my eyes and felt the breeze and took in the scent of my beloved Chesapeake.

I and craved a fucking glass (bottle/bottles) of wine.  Then I sighed, shook it off and waited for the ceremony to begin.

After we all filed into the reception hall (that had a HUGE bar), I found our table at which I sat facing the bay.  It was gorgeous (I also sat with my back to the bar).  At one point during the evening I turned to Bill and said, "Is it bad that I would be having more fun if I was drinking?"  Of course he said no, that it was normal, that I was fine.

So I sat back and took a long hard look at the reception and tried to feel what I was actually feeling.

I was bored.

But why?  It was a wedding!  I love weddings!

Then I realized why I was bored.  It was because I barely knew anyone there, most of the guests were under the age of 35, and the music was way too loud and they weren't playing any slow songs (as in nada, zip, zero).  I love slow dancing with the hubs!  We had also gotten up at 4:00 am that morning to drive seven hours to get there and were leaving the following morning at 6:00 am to return home.

I was bored AND tired!

And once I realized that it wasn't wine I needed, it was sleep and a slow song, I was sooooo relieved!  I started thinking about what it would really be like if I was drinking. Sure, I would have loosened up and been more relaxed - for about 30 seconds - and then I'd be trying to figure out how fast I could drink this glass to get to the next glass and did they have enough of my brand and maybe I should have Bill bring back two at a time and maybe we can go to the bar after and UUUGGGGGHHHHHH...shut the fuck UP!

Hmmmm...yeah.

Instead I took beautiful pictures which I have photo-shopped and sent to my friend.  I enjoyed the rest of the reception and went home to my daughter's house and spent the night with my grandchildren.  Then I got up early, without little sweaters on my teeth and a sour stomach and sense of guilt and regret, and came home with my husband of 30 years who is still proud of me and willing to kiss me.

And the most important thing?  I'm still proud of me.

Namaste

Exercising Self Care

Self care should always include pink roses.

Whenever I used to hear the term "exercising self care", I always thought, "I exercise self care all the time!  I'm married to a man who takes care of my house, rubs my feet, and indulges my need for massages, mani-pedi's and Target time.  Anything else would be selfish!"  My idea of self care consisted of what I could spend on myself without feeling guilty.  "I deserve these new shoes.  I shouldn't feel guilty.  I'm just taking care of myself." 

It also worked well when trying to rationalize yet another case of wine purchased.  I knew we were broke, I knew I was drinking too much, I knew I should be buying cheaper wine but I was exercising self care!  I work hard...I deserve it.  But that's another post entirely...in fact, I've probably already written it.

Anyway...

As I meander my way through recovery to find and maintain my zen, I've come to realize that self care isn't what you do to yourself.  It's figuring out what feeds your soul, who makes you happy, and what gives you joy, and then arranging and rearranging your life until you find the balance that makes and keeps you sane.  That place you can go after a long day at work that included an event filled with empty chatter from people you don't like (oops...that might just be me) where you can just be.  It's surrounding yourself with those things on a regular basis.

Along the way I've learned a thing or two.

I've learned that I need about an hour of alone time every night before bed.  I need to go in my room, close the door and read, or watch TV or play on my iPad.  I look forward to that time in the evening the way I used to look forward to my glass (bottles) of wine.  I've learned that in order for me to be the kind of mother, wife, friend I want to be, I have to indulge this part of me.  Maybe not every night, but most nights.

I've learned that life is too short to hang around people you don't like or who drain your life force.  Sometimes you have no choice.  A co-worker who is negative and sits right beside you spreading negativity all day can't be avoided.  A niece who only calls when she wants something or is in crisis is, unfortunately, a cross that has to be borne.  But when I've had just about all I can handle, I know I need to do something to get my zen back.  Meditation, yoga, a call to a really good friend or a heart to heart with the hubs usually works.

But if at all possible, I've learned to extricate myself from "life suckers" and, and this is the important part so pay attention, not feel guilty about it.  I have a neighbor who has seen some heartache in the last few years.  She's a wonderful person but her whole life is spent dwelling on the negative and all of our conversations center around "woe is me".  Our friendship was beginning to become more than I could handle, so I backed away.  I created space.  We're still friendly but not in the way we used to be.  Thing is, I never would have done this before - I would have endured because I needed for people to need me.  Plus, I never would have wanted to hurt her feelings or for her to think badly of me.  Now I know that's it's just something I need to do and I stop worrying about what's in her head - it's none of my business anyway.

The wonderful thing is that I'm learning new things every day.  We have a wedding back home this weekend.  It's an 6-8 hour drive and we're taking the granddaughters home as well.  In a prior life, I would have made myself miserable trying to please everyone and get to every one's house to hang out and see everyone and please everyone but me.  I would be stressed and cranky and overly anxious.  There would be a strict schedule to maintain and no one, especially me, would have found the visit pleasant at all. 

Um...not so much.

Well not this time missy.  We'll drive up on Friday night.  Stay at my daughters house.  Leave for the wedding on Saturday early enough for me to stop and see my best friend for an hour or so before the wedding.  It's on the way AND I really need to lay eyes on her and get a hug (another way I'm exercising self care).  Then we'll go to the wedding where I'll see even more friends that I love and miss in the most beautiful and positive setting possible.  Then back to the daughter's to sleep and up and on the way home early Sunday morning.  I'll be exhausted but I will have fed my soul and not made myself a nitwit.  Win-win!

I love that I'm still figuring things out about myself even at the advanced age of 52.  I love this journey of recovery and all of the little gems it brings.  Yes, I wish I had known all this when I was younger but I'm not sure I was ready to know it.  All things in God's time.

And if all else fails...Target will be there waiting with open arms.

Namaste

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say and what you do are in harmony." ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Time for a Little Gratitude

Last night I took my granddaughters out for a "girls' night" and we ended up painting pottery.  In the very foreground of this picture you can see my coffee mug - I wrote "Gratitude" on it.  I'm not sure where that word came from but I thought maybe I should show a little today...you know, in case it was the Big Guy calling.

Today I am blessed and grateful for:

My beautiful granddaughters who are just all around good people.  I love spending time with them and it will be hard to take them home on Friday.

The fact that two of my three at home have found summer employment.  If you've got an extra prayer, please send one up that someone calls Brian back soon.  His already fragile self-esteem is beginning to take a hit.

My husband who takes such good care of me when I'm running around like a crazy woman.  He's even picking up things at Sam's that I need for work!  I thank God every day that I had the good sense to go out with him when he asked.

My acceptance into graduate school!  I'm registered and just waiting for my financial aid to come through.  This program is so perfect for me that it's scary.  Can't wait to get started.

My job.  I love the people in my crazy office and even though the work isn't what I want to do for the rest of my life, it pays the bills and makes me laugh and keeps me in shoes.

My cute as a button new granddaughter in Oklahoma who I can't wait to see in September!!!  Bill and I are driving out to be there when her parents get married.  I can't wait for Bill to meet her either.  And if you think I'm kidding about her cuteness, I've included proof.

The sunglasses are to protect her anonymity...you know how the paparazzi can be.

And finally for today...my faith.  The thing that gives me hope when I feel all is lost, keeps me up when I'm feeling down, and fills me with love and peace on a daily basis.

Thank you God.

Namaste

Where Did It Go...

My granddaughters are with us this week.  For the first time since they were little girls they get to spend time at our house alone.  That's not because my daughter wouldn't have loved for us to keep them, it's because we keep moving farther and farther away and they keep getting busier and busier.

They are now 15 and 14 and as I looked at the oldest on Saturday I couldn't help but think, where did it go?

Where did my fuzzy headed little girl go?  Eve has very curly blond hair that has a tendency to frizz up over night.  When she was little it made the cutest little halo on top of her head and when I would pick her up, she would bury that fuzzy little head in the crook of my neck and I would soak up all her babyness.

Where did it go?

Matthew and William are working this summer and Brian is still looking.  They could have worked in previous summers but I wanted them to enjoy their teen years...you know, sleeping until 3:00 pm and staying up all night playing video games with their friends.  Such productive endeavors.  But now, they are all off in different directions all the time and I barely catch a glimpse of them along the way. 

Where did it go?

Where did the sweaty smell of little boys go? Where did baseball caps on the counter and stinky sneakers in my mudroom go?  Where did up all night sleepovers and little arms around my neck and sloppy kisses on my cheek go?  I still get hugs and kisses but it's different when your head hits their chest and kisses are an opportunity to remind them to shave.  And sleepovers have a totally different meaning and will not be happening in my house.

Where did it go?

Where did late night conversations where I could barely keep my eyes open go?  The ones I used to dread because I had to get up early for work but I stayed up and stayed present (even in the two years I was drinking heavily) because that's the only time that teens want to talk.  I would listen and talk and listen some more.  I would make suggestions or even give advice if asked.  And as they walked back to their room I'd be happy because I knew I was still needed.

Where did family meals around the kitchen table go?  The ones where there were always one or two more mouths to feed and we talked about our days and laughed at inappropriate jokes (or bodily functions) and planned out the weekend activities.  Some of that still happens but it's not the same.  Now there are girlfriends as well as their "boys" around the table and most of the time there's not even room for Bill and I to sit much less participate in conversation.  But I still watch and and listen revel in the fact that family dinner time is still one of their favorite times of the day.

Where did sand castles and bleached blond hair with little boy tan lines along little boy bottoms go?  We haven't been on vacation in a few years and likely won't be going anywhere anytime soon.  They're off on vacation with their friends or girlfriends anyway and while they'd love to go somewhere with us, it's much more expensive and complicated to take five grown adults away than it is to take two semi-grown adults and 3 or 4 or 5 little kids.  They don't exactly eat off the kids menu anymore.

And who am I kidding?  I know where it all went.  Time.  It went with the passage of time.  I curse the passage of time and the in the same breath find myself praying for more.  More time to get those hugs and kisses and dinners and conversations.  More time to spend with them and their kids and maybe, if I'm very, very lucky, their kids also. 

I have no idea where this came from today except that when I kissed Eve goodnight last night, her fuzzy head (that is now perfectly coiffed) tickled my nose.

And it made me smile.

Namaste

Tired, Pissed, Grateful

I hate to admit this.  With all of my do-it-all-and-never-let-anyone-see-you-sweat, ask-mom-and-she-knows, give-it-to-Sherry-and-it-will-get-done fiber in my being, I hate to type these words, much less say them out loud.  But the time has come to give voice to something that I've been needing to say since approximately May 31st when we kicked off our "busy" season here at work.

I'm tired.

Bone tired.

Weary bone tired.

The reason I hate to admit this is because I feel like it means that I'm old.  Yes, I'm working most days 10-14 hours (sometimes more if there's an evening event).  AND I'm doing in business attire and 1-3 inch heels (depending on said business attire).  AND I'm logging over 20,000 steps a day.  So I guess I should be at least a little tired.  But this is a tired that I've only experienced in the last few years or so.  It's deep people, really deep.  And I wouldn't really mind it if I had always been this way but that is not the case.  Not the case at all I tell you!

I remember when times like this at work actually ENERGIZED me.  I would go home and do an hour workout and then go out for the evening, get home at midnight and get up at six to do it all again!  I remember when I was raising three babies at once, only getting about 5 hours of sleep per night (not in a row mind you) AND working a full time, 40 hour per week job.  Even then I found time to workout, play with the kids and have a romantic life.

Now?  Not so much.  Most nights it's all I can do to come home, change clothes, water the plants (on the porch no less...not even a garden on the back forty or anything), wash my face and fall into bed by 9:30 or 10:00.

Really?

I feel old, and broken, and...well...old.

And I don't like it...not one little bit.

PLUS, shit hurts!  My feet hurt and my knee hurts and if I don't sit in the exactly correct position when I work on my laptop my shoulder hurts and my head hurts and damn, even my teeth hurt from time to time.  WTF is that about?  This isn't the good kind of hurt like when you've done too many squats and your butt and quads are so sore the next day you have trouble going down the stairs.  This is an achy, arthritis type of old hurt.  AND I HATE IT.

I'm pissed.

I'm pissed that I'm not cool anymore and that I look like a dork when I dance (where did my rhythm go anyway?).  I'm pissed that even though I think I sound hip when I use slang, I actually sound like an old lady using slang and it embarrasses my kids (but I do it on purpose anyway - hey I need to have a little fun).  I'm pissed that I can't find anything to wear because what I should be wearing looks like something an old lady would wear and what I want to wear is actually better suited to the 30 something crowd.  Plus my ass is the size of Texas right now and what looks good in a magazine or a catalog just doesn't translate well in the real world on this particular real body.

I'm tired and I'm pissed.

But, dammit, I'm still one of the most blessed women on the planet so not only am I tired and pissed but I'm very, very grateful as well.

I guess it's all in the perspective.  But damn I'm tired.

Namaste

Now where DID I put my passion?

I was at an event last night for work, where I was not the life of the party and did not know absolutely everyone in the room and, more importantly, did not want to know everyone in the room or be the life of the party.  I was sitting there, nodding appropriately at someone blathering on about something or another and I thought, "Is it just because I don't drink anymore that I am bored at these events, or has a fundamental shift in my psyche happened and my Id didn't bother to tell my Ego (or vice versa - I can't remember my Psych 101 from college anymore)."  Have I really become so ambivalent about my job and the people with whom I work that I'm okay just going through the motions?  Not really caring about this business or these people?  Would it be different if I was still drinking?  Would I be more interesting and therefore be more interested? 

Or is it because I'm not the big shot I used to be?  Hmmm...that's another post entirely.

Honestly...I think I'm just bored.  This job just isn't that much of a stretch.  My boss and I knew that when she hired me - that this was only a way to get me in the door and that I would eventually move on to bigger and better things - but I thought this job would be fine for this part of my life.  I thought I'd be happy with just a "job" and that I no longer needed to have a "career".  I thought I could exist on the periphery and let everyone else get the glory and accolades and all the intrinsic rewards that come along for the ride.

Boy was I ever wrong. 

What I've discovered is that I need passion in my work.   I need to see the light bulb go off in the eyes of my participants and know that it's because of training that I designed.  I want to know that I made a difference and that they are better bankers because they took my class.  I haven't had that in a very long time.  I got a taste of it again when I went out to San Francisco to help with another program.  Feeling that passion and seeing those light bulbs again had the same affect on me that a glass of wine would have...

...I want more and I want it now. 

I believe that's why I'm going to graduate school. (I got accepted.  Yay!)  Because I've noticed that without a master's degree, I'm not getting the street cred I need to get back into a role like that.  So as we used to say in Mary Kay, find a way...make a way.  I'm making a way.

And I've begun to look around within the company for other roles.  It's a BIG company and you never know what might be out there.  My boss knows.  She's not thrilled but she's supportive.  Can't ask for more than that.

That said, I have to say that this is exactly where I needed to be at this time in my life.  The lay off, the unemployment, the new job that I'm grossly overqualified for have all served to humble me.  It has made me more appreciative of what I have and who I am.  It's given me time to reflect on mistakes I've made and take corrective action so that it doesn't happen again.  It's made me appreciate the teacher in me and work to make her even better.

Her I like. 

Namaste

Go Wildcats!!!

It's my insanely busy time at work so if I don't post as much or comment as much it's just because I'm working or sleeping or sitting in a bar watching barely legal kids get shit faced (not really - they don't do that until we leave).  I love my job.

Anyway, I wanted to come out here and take a minute to tell you what's new in my life.  I've applied to graduate school!!!!  I'm going to Kansas State University's online Master's Degree program for Adult Learning and Continuing Education.  Thank you Mrs. D for the inspiration!!!  You rock.

I've been trying to go back to school for about 15 years.  I have applied and been accepted to four different university's master's degree programs.  Two of them I attended for one semester each.  Every time I'd get going, something would happen.  We'd move.  Or run out of money.  Or I'd get laid off.  Or it wasn't a good time for the kids.  Or it was the wrong program (Turns out I really DON'T want an MBA after all.)  Always something.

I never stopped trying to get there though.  About every three or four months I'd start Googling programs only to be stopped by some obstacle.  The most recent was money.  Graduate school is EXPENSIVE!!!  But I always knew that when the time was right, the right program and the financing and everything else would fall into place.

This is that time.

This is my time.

I'm now working for a company that offers tuition reimbursement.  And since I've now got three in college at the same time, I'm VERY familiar with the FAFSA process for Federal financial aid.  My plan is to get a loan, pay for school and then pay off the loan when my company reimburses me.  Also, the program at K-State is my passion and is totally and completely online so, no matter where I live, I can continue my studies.  I've had to withdraw twice from school because we moved.  Not a problem anymore.

The kids don't need me like they used to...'nuff said.

So here I go.  I once told the hubs that if I ever mentioned going back to school he was to smack me upside the head (I really hated undergraduate school.)  I'm so glad he seldom listens to me.

Namaste

Letting Them Go

I'm having trouble letting go.

No surprise there.

But this time it's different. I'm having a hard time letting my boys graduate from high school. I'm having a harder time letting them go. The hell of it is I didn't even know I was having a hard time until this week. I mean, I knew it was hard and that I was dreading it at the same time I was looking forward to it but I didn't realize that I was letting any of those feelings leak out of my head (and my heart).

Exhibit 1.  The Girlfriend
Matt has a girlfriend that, as long time readers know, I adore. I loved his first girlfriend also but I knew that relationship wasn't right and wouldn't stick. This one is different. This girl is strong and an excellent match for my sometimes too big for his britches youngest son. She is also me at that age. Pretty much all on her own.  No support from her own family - either financially or emotionally. Able to fend for herself in almost any situation.


So I was very proud when she called (called...not text...that means it's a big deal) to tell me that she had won a contest and would receive a fully paid trip to New York to be a seat filler for the Tony Awards! Wait...what? OMG!!!  That is fantastic! What a wonderful opportunity for a theatre major! Then she asked if Matt could go with her.

Ummm....

I started asking questions. Where would they stay? When were the awards? How would they get around? I needed answers before I could decide. Really? Dad has already said an enthusiastic yes. I mean, what kind of parent denies their child an opportunity like this? At his age I was planning a wedding and had been supporting myself for three years. But I waited, I stalled, I said I had to talk about this face to face. Of course, eventually I did say yes and I'm very excited but I was left wondering...what the fuck is wrong with me.

And then God sent one of His patented bricks upside my head and it came to me...

This girlfriend I love so much is taking my son away from me and I don't like it...not one little bit. In fact, she's been pissing me off a lot in the last couple of weeks.  I feel like she's been competing with me for his affections.  Like I tell him to do something and she's whispering in his ear and telling him to do something else. And he listens to her.

I can really be an ass sometimes.  It's not her you moron...it's you!  I'm the jealous one who's been competing (in my head...not out loud...or so I thought) with her for his affections.  It's like I've got to stake my claim to what I believe is already mine.

I finally realized that I've been telling him no and looking at her differently recently because, for quite a while now, she has begun to take my place. He goes to her with his problems. They talk about the future and make decisions and I'm not a part of the conversation. That's exactly the way it should be and I should be proud of the fact that I've raised a man that could attract a quality woman.  And I am!

Most of the time.

Right now it sucks.

Exhibit 2 - Grumpy Mom
I started to bitch at the boys yesterday about one thing or another when Brian spoke up.

Brian:  "Mom, why are you so angry with us lately?  It feels like we can't do anything right."

Me:  "Ummmm."

Brian: Waits patiently while I process the bomb he just dropped.

Me:  "I guess I'm just having a hard time with the fact that you're graduating and I'm grumpy. I'm sorry. I really am. You know how much I adore you."

Brian:  "Is it okay if we call you on it when you're doing it?"

Me:  "Of course, isn't it always?"

And that's when I realized that yes, I really am having a much harder time than I thought I was having. I was so proud of myself for not crying every two seconds and not worrying about them because they'd be living at home while they went to college. But what I failed to recognize consciously (but my subconscious was smart enough to see) is that it is a very big fat hairy deal. That I have some deep seated feelings about this that need to be acknowledged and processed. That no matter how much I try to ignore it, the fact remains that they are becoming men and have begun what we have been preparing them to do their whole lives...grow up and grow away.

So I cried. And I will again. And I wrote them a letter that I will give them on graduation day. And I processed. And I thanked God that I quit drinking when I did.

Namaste

...about this weekend...

This weekend the weather here was nothing short of spectacular.  We get about five of these kinds of days a year and we spent three of them this weekend.  Glorious.

I took the opportunity to walk the dogs and do my circuit every day.  Bill found me a knee brace that my son wore when he was playing baseball and it worked great!  If I wore it and then iced the knee when I got done, my pain was minimal and my knee feels better than it has since it did whatever it was it did on Friday.  Of course I modified some of the exercises in the circuit so I didn't do more damage.  It was great.

As I was working out on Sunday, I began thinking about when in the hell I was going to have time to workout after tomorrow.  Tomorrow is the start of our insane time at work.  We run 350-400 new hires through our doors from the end of May until late September.  It means very early mornings and many late nights.  I spend most of the summer exhausted.  Plus, I have always worked out in the evening.  I'm not a morning person and evenings seem to be best for me.  No way that's happening with any consistency this summer and what I need now, above anything else, is consistency.  That's the only way to form new, and healthier habits.

Just about the time I was thinking that I might as well give up, something clicked (no...not in my knee...in my head).  THIS IS A BATTLE!!!  It's a challenge.  I'm competitive and I like to win and most of all...I am one stubborn, bull-headed bitch.  If I approach this the way I approached quitting drinking or smoking or any other really, really hard thing I've ever done...namely...head down and plow on through, then I will win!  I always win...I will again.

That means I'm getting up at 5:00 am this summer and, depending on how much light I have, I will walk the dogs and then come home and do my circuit.  If I can't walk them then I will just do my circuit and maybe some yoga.  This is not my favorite option but I am so sick of hearing myself whine about the way I look .  I am on my own last nerve so I will take my own advice, if you don't like something...CHANGE IT you ninny!

On a different note...

We celebrated Brian and Matt's 18th birthday this weekend.  I baked and decorated their cake and not only did it look pretty cool.  It tasted great.  When they were little, I used to dress Brian in blue so that their preschool teachers could tell them apart ("b" for blue; "b" for Brian).  William was too uninterested to learn their real names (he was only 27 months when they were born and I ruined his life forever) so he called them the Blue Brother and the Red Brother.  The names stuck. 

The yin and yang symbol is an idea for a tattoo that they want (but can't afford yet thank God).  To me it reminds me of how they must have looked while I was carrying them.  The saying on the cake is a riff on Harry Potter which they used as their quote in their yearbook.  Under Brian's name it said, "One cannot survive..." and under Matthew's name (right next to Brian) it said, "...without the other".  Pretty clever...and sweet. (And yes I am well aware that I got it backwards on the cake...deal with it.)

A great time was had by all and Bill and I were left with the thought...where in the hell did the time go?

Namaste

That was then...





This is now...

Kind Determination

I'm not doing so well on my no sugar...um...wait...no carbs...uh...maybe this time it's the 1200 calorie thing?  Shit...I have no idea what I'm not doing well at, I just know that I've gained 10 of the 14 pounds I lost at the end of last year.  So I've come to yet another conclusion.

My eating habits are not going to change.

Okay, I do need to limit my sugar intake, because that's what put the pounds back on, but overall I eat a very clean and healthy diet.  Lots of lean meat - chicken mostly.  We don't fry anything in my house except eggs and we use Pam to do that.  I eat a lot of veggies in my salads (I'm addicted to salads - yay something good for a change.) and I avoid high fat cheese, fatty dressings and the rest of that stuff that can take a perfectly healthy salad and make it a heart attack on a plate. I limit pasta and bread.  I took a look at my portions - they are within the "limits" of what a woman of my age should be eating.  I've been eating this way for 20 years so it's part of who I am which means it's not hard to do.

Well then...what's the problem?

Lack of exercise.  In other words, I need to move my fat ass so it will not be a fat ass anymore.  Simple.

I was such an exercise fanatic up until my drinking got out of control.  I exercised a minimum of 4 nights a week and most weeks I did something all 7 days.  I did aerobics, step aerobics, weight training, spinning (I HATE spinning), Zumba, Power Yoga (and of course regular yoga) and any other things that would burn calories and build muscle.  It got me back in shape after my kids were born.  Anytime over the years that my weight would sneak up, my exercise would shove it back down where it belonged.  It was a lovely relationship.

Until I broke up with it.  Kicked it to the curb.  Dropped it like a hot potato.

After all, I was either too hungover to do anything in the morning or too anxious to pop that cork to do anything in the evening.  It was a lose-lose situation.

Now I've got to get a routine going again.  My biggest problem is that every time I begin a exercise regimen, I try to start where I left off - 50 pounds and 10 years ago.

Wait.  What?

YES!  It seems I can't reconcile myself with the fact that I'm one of the overweight, older women in the group classes that needs modifications and a slower pace.  I swore I'd never be that woman.  I swore I'd be the one telling them they could do it because I was xx years old and still in shape.  I would be the motivator not the motivate-ee.  Fucking alcohol.

I'm competitive.  It doesn't matter if I'm using a DVD at home or in a room full of women jumping around and sweating - I compete with them.  It's hard to back it off when you only remember one speed.  I started working out in my early 20's.  All I had in those days was one speed - full out and I managed to maintain that speed as I got older.  But then I stopped and atrophied so that when I hit that speed now, I end up pulling something, tearing something, unable to walk or feeling like I'm going to have a heart attack.  Three days of that and I'm saying, fuck this shit, I like me the way I am.

I can lie to myself...no surprise there.

So my coworker and I are starting a program.  I printed the one you see above from Pinterest (it actually has a workout for each day of the week).  She's getting married in November.  She's 40 and in great shape but she wants to tone up and lose a couple of inches.  While this is a competition (challenge), I have to be careful not to actually compete with her on how the exercises are done, just that they ARE done.  I have already decided which modifications I will make and promised myself to pretend this is the first time I've ever exercised ever!

Then God weighed in (pun intended).

I was running up the stairs this morning to grab something before I left for work and something in my bad knee just...went.  So now I'm in pain but still committed to this thing.  I'll rest my knee this weekend.  I'll ice it and try to stay off of it.  I'll even modify the exercises even more to accommodate it (wall push ups instead of knee push ups, rear lunges instead of regular lunges).

And I WON'T pretend like I'm 35 or 40 and then beat myself up because it hurts.  I will treat myself nicely.  I will be kind.  I won't judge.  I won't set my expectations too high.  I WILL maintain a positive attitude and accept whatever this body that I've abused and misused, decides it has to give.

Wish me luck.

Namaste

"If I had to select one quality, one personal characteristic that I regard as being most highly correlated with success, whatever the field, I would pick the trait of persistence. Determination. The will to endure to the end, to get knocked down seventy times and get up off the floor saying, Here comes number seventy-one!"

-Richard M. DeVos

...but I'm not bitter...

Note:  Misspellings are intentional to keep from popping up on Google and other Internet searches.  I'm really not this stupid...most of the time.

This weekend was one of disappointment and disillusion for me.  All because sometimes, life just isn't fair.  Sometimes, just because life isn't fair, things don't turn out the way they should.  I'm often overhead quoting the Lion King to my children.

"Life's not fair Simba."

Fuck you Scar.

Why, you may ask, are you on a tear about life not being fair Sherry?  Well thank you for asking, I'll be happy to tell you.

So my singing son tried out for and won a spot in our local Italiann Festival's version of Americann Idol, aptly named...Italiann Idol.  It's not a big deal, we live in a fairly small town but exciting none the less.  The competition consisted of instrument players, singers and dancers.  Brian was, by far, the best singer. (A lot of people said that without me even prompting them!  I swear!)  But did he win?  Nope.  Didn't even place.

I wouldn't have minded except that after the competition I find out that all of the winners belonged to families that are part of the "in" crowd at the church (who hosted the event).  Apparently the kid who won, always wins and acts like it.  So my boy got cheated out of $200 because I'm lapsed Catholic who wouldn't be all caught up in something like this anyway.  If there's one thing I avoid at all costs, it's playing politics.  I have to do it a lot at work, I sure as hell don't want to do it in my personal life too.  But I'm not bitter mind you...

Then, we headed to the Blumeey's.  The Blumeey's are part of a national organization that recognizes excellence in high school theatre.  Thirty-two schools participated this year, from the Charlotte area, of which our group was one.  We didn't get one nomination...not one.  We were disappointed because our kids worked so hard on our production of Beauty and the Beast (including a stellar performance by a rising young star who you can hear here) but we just figured other schools were better.

Until last night.  You see, another school not only got nominated for best overall performance for the same production (using the same costumes we rented for our production) but their male lead was nominated for best actor.  We were all very excited to see this performance since we knew it must have been better than ours right?

Right?

Wrong.

Each school nominated for best overall performance performed one ensemble number from their show.  This school chose the "Be Our Guest" number.  It was no where near as good as our's was.  We were all speechless.  Then the young man nominated as best actor in the show sang.  Same result.
How do I know they were bad?  Because the other schools WE SO FREAKING GOOD!  Even if we had gotten the nomination, there's no way we would have won because the kids and school that won deserved to win.  These kids are so talented their performances brought good tears to your eyes.  But the school nominated for their rendition of Beauty and the Beast...well...how to say this delicately...well they just weren't as good as we were!

Setting aside the fact that most of the schools nominated for anything were either from the wealthier areas of Charlotte or were from pricey private schools (we're a public school), I was still left scratching my head.  How in the name of God did this school get nominated over us?  Was I missing something?  Again, all of our kids and parents and teachers were rendered speechless (which, for a group of actors, singers and dancers is really saying something).

Then, after the awards were complete and we were milling around in the lobby, the drama teacher said, "You know, I knew we weren't part of the "in" crowd at the meetings for these things but I never thought it would impact the nomination and award process."

Hmmm...

Politics strike again.

But I'm not bitter.

Namaste

Win or lose we're a good lookin' bunch.

Me and Elmo (aka Bill)





Here's the Deal

That's one of my favorite sayings.  If you ask my kids, they'll tell you that when I say that they brace themselves...a lecture is comin' on hard.  "Here's the deal...blah, blah, blah."  And that's what popped in my head this morning as I was thinking through what I'm about to tell you.  So...

Here's the deal...I am sick to death of beating myself up over things I did in my drinking career so I'm not going to do it anymore.  Period.  End of sentence.

I was thinking about my anniversary this morning.  Bill and I used my Marriott points and stayed two nights at the Ritz Carlton in Uptown Charlotte. (Did I mention we live in Charlotte?  Well there you go.)  It was the first time we had stayed away from the kids for two night in a row since...well I'm not really sure we ever had.  We had a great time.

But the best part of the weekend was when we got into the car to go home and I didn't have a hangover!  I can't count the number of weekends away that I crawled into the car on Sunday morning with sweaters on my teeth, a sour stomach and wine seeping from my sweaty pours.  Ewwww....gross.  And I thought that was living! 

That brought me to a memory (always does right).  A memory of a time the boys and I visited a friend in our old town and she and I sat up the night before drinking and...

STOP.

That's what I said to myself because before I knew it I was reliving that weekend and feeling like shit about what I drank and what I said and what I did and it was on the verge of ruining my day.  Until I paused and yelled at myself.

STOP.  (I have to yell.  Sometimes I don't listen.)

And then I stopped.  And I started thinking about how I have already made my amends.  I have apologized to everyone in my life INCLUDING myself.  I started thinking about how far I've come in the past 3 1/2 years and what a waste all that progress would be if I spent the rest of my life making myself feel like shit about things I did in the past.

Well...fuck that.

I'm living in the moment.  I'm sober.  I'm a good person.  I'm happy and my family is happy.  I have a job that (most days) makes me very happy and (all days) supports my family.  I want to focus on the NOW.

And besides, thinking about all that past stuff totally fucks with the zen I've worked so hard to cultivate and maintain.  And you know what I always say...

Don't risk the happy.

Namaste

Did You Ever Have One of Those Days

Old Italian women (who are not related to me) courtesy of Google Images.

Today has been one of those very weird, deja vu, creep me out and overall sad kind of days.  First, my coworker's grandfather-in-law passed away this morning.  Today would have been his 83rd birthday.  It wasn't sudden, he had been deteriorating for a while now and truthfully, they were just waiting for the call.  Still sucks.  Big.

Then my friend's nephew, who suffers from Lissencephaly, had a seizure at 4:00 am this morning that they couldn't stop at home and had to rush him to the NICU.  This child has beaten every odd that has been cast against him since birth.  But when shit like this happens, we all just hold our breath and think, "Is this it?"  I hate it and I'm sure it's no picnic for his parents or other family members either.  I can't begin to know what their lives are like.  I can only sit back in wonder at how they manage to live in the moment of each day and take nothing for granted.  I could learn a lot from them.

Finally, Ruth over at The Fabulous Geezersisters wrote this post about long time friends of hers.  The husband is slowly dying of Lou Gehrig's disease.  I'll let you read the post because it's so beautiful but it only added to my weird day.

Days like this make me paranoid as shit.  All that stuff my Italian grandmother and great aunts used to say about these things "coming in threes" and then they'd spit on the ground and walk around it three times or sit with their rosary or...oh hell I can't remember...I was just a freaked out little kid.  But all of that, what I call Catholic Voo-Doo, stuck with me and makes me talk to God like this...

"Okay God.  I don't know what's going on up there today but you stay the hell away from my family and friends today.  I don't want any freak accidents.  No "heart events".  No illnesses.  No airborne warfare.  No latent carcinogens.  I just want a quiet and peaceful day filled with love.  Capisce?  Good.  You know what I always say Lord...Don't fuck with my family."

Like God gives a rat's ass what I think.  It's just that at times like this, I'm reminded how fragile life is and how much I love the one I have and all the peeps in it.  The thought of losing it or someone I love (whether by old age or one of the above events that if I mention I'll have to spit on the ground to keep from happening) makes me a little fuori di testa (crazy in the head) sometimes.  I think that's part of the reason I'm having trouble getting older.  Hell that's ALL of the reason I'm having trouble getting older.  Every day brings me one step closer to the front of the church.  And I don't LIKE the front of the church.  The front of the church always made me nervous.  I'm more of a back pew kind of girl...that way the priest can't see you sleeping during the homily.

But as the old saying goes, "Man plans, God laughs".  The Big Guy has His plan and there isn't a damn thing I can do to change it.  I need to just trust that the Lord has my back and that whatever happens, happens for a reason.  I'm sure He's expecting me to live for today and not for a tomorrow that isn't promised.

And I'm going to try and do that...as soon as I find my rosary and try not to think about how I might have jinxed something by writing all this down.

(ptooey)

Namaste

Nice to Meet You

Okay, so I'm staring at a blank screen most of the day, knowing that I want to write.  Feeling that I need to write.  Not having a freaking clue about what to write.  Not good.

Not good at all.

And then I read this from Running On Sober's brilliant site and I thought, "I think she's got it!" (My apologies to Professor Higgins.)

See, I've been having a hard time figuring out what I want my blog to be when it grows up.  I don't want to lose my sober (and maybe even not sober yet) readers, especially if by some miracle I'm helping them in any way, but I don't want to go on writing only about being an alcoholic and recovering.  I want to write about anything and everything that pops into my pea brain but I run into roadblocks sometimes because to write about anything and everything might give you a glimpse into who I am in "real" life.

It's something that's been rolling around in my head lately and it was resurrected yesterday from a blog post by Ellie over at One Crafty Mother.  (If you don't know Ellie you should. She's one of the founding administrators of Crying Out Now, the Bubble Hour, and Shining Strong, all of which serve to get and keep women (and men in some cases) sober and in recovery.  She's a beautiful person inside and out. Give her a read.)

ANYWAY, this thought has been about my anonymity and whether or not I should "come out".  I've never been shy about telling people about my "issues".  I feel that if I can give one person hope or help someone come to terms with their own issues, then it's worth whatever bullshit I have to take because I tattled on myself.  For instance, I'm like the poster child for clinical depression and the stigma attached.  I freely tell people about my depression and that I'm heavily medicated and what a difference it's made in my life.  I'm not a pusher of anti-depressants but I do believe that if you need help (therapy, medicine, yoga...whatever) then you should seek it.  I can't count the number of times I've been told over the last twenty years, "Thank you.  Because of you I found the courage to get some help."  One of those is worth a room full of rolling eyes and blank stares. 

Just ask - I'll tell you.

When it came to my alcoholism, however, I've been walking a very fine line.  Of course, while I was attending AA, "coming out" was not an option.  AA practioners hold their anonymity very dear...and I respect that to the nth degree.  I would never, ever do anything to compromise anyone else's decision about their anonymity.  Plus, some of them are so adamant that to even whisper a last name or place of employment would practically get you escorted from the building.  Nope...not going there.

In my gut though, I knew that for me to keep the fact that I am an alcoholic a secret meant I was ashamed; and at first I was...deeply.  But over time I became less and less ashamed and keeping my secret only served to reinforce the shame that I was finally, blessedly, albeit slowly, shedding.  So I began to tell people in my "real life" and, to my surprise, after the initial shock, no one really gave a shit.  Those who loved me still loved me.  Those who valued my work continued to value my work.  Those who couldn't deal with it?  Fuck 'em and the horse they rode in on.

But in my blog, my anonymity remains.  This is partly because it is the Internet after all.  What is placed out here, stays out here.  But also because I just wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do.  I'm a people pleaser at heart.  I don't want to offend anyone...or run anyone off...or risk hurting any one's feelings.

But it's getting harder and harder for me to think up fake names and not include pictures and be anonymous.  Many of you have become family to me.  As this blog evolves I want to share all of me with you and not just the drunk and ashamed parts.  Not just the secret part.  I want to feel free to share the entire, recovered, strong and happy part of me right alongside the funny, sloppy and ugly parts of me.

So here it is.  I'm Sherry.  I'm a recovering alcoholic.  I work for a major U.S. bank (let's not get totally crazy okay) and have been with Elmo (real name Bill) for over 30 years.  You already know my kids but you'll come to know them by name as I continue to write.  And the best thing is that if I want to include pictures...I will.

For instance - these two will turn 18 on the 27th and will graduate from high school in June.  Aren't they gorgeous.  I'm so proud of them I could burst.  Matthew is on the left.  Brian is on the right.

I'll share more pics as needed and with permission of course.

And this is me.  An over 50, overweight, recovering alcoholic, mother, grandmother, wife, banker/teacher, chocolate lover, Pepsi Max drinker, God lover and overall good person.

This is our latest addition.  She's getting bigger by the day.

Nice to meet you!

Namaste