Inappropriate Language

We have certain rules in my house.

·         Be responsible for your actions

·         Education comes first

·         Always have some fun

·         Try something new everyday

·         I’m your mom, not your maid

·         Own your emotions and talk openly about them

·         Love yourself for who you are

Another non-official rule is that we talk one way inside the house vs. how we might talk outside the house.  I know, a little backwards from most parents.  But then again, as we have established, I am not most parents.

I swear.  I own it.  It’s not lady like, and yes, I understand this is not setting a good example for my children.  But let’s face it, this is not going to change (please see last rule).  So, instead, I explain to my  girls that not everyone talks this way, and that while mom may use bad words they are not allowed to use them until they are an adult.  Still, I allow them– within reason- to talk one way in the house (saying words such as “this sucks” is a big deal, trust me.  They both like to charge me a dollar for more serious infractions) with the knowledge that they are not allowed to repeat such language with others.  My GG takes this rule, like ALL rules, to heart.

For those of you who don’t personally know my GG, she is the most empathetic, sweet, responsible child you will ever meet.  I’m not kidding; I have told her on more than one occasion to please go text her friends, stop doing so much homework, and go have some fun.  She is the first born, and takes her role seriously (honestly, you should feel bad for her- having to live with two babies of the family,  both Belle and myself, cannot be easy).  GG knows the rules of the house, and follows them to a T.  Does not push them; never tests the line.

Until soccer.

GG has playing soccer since she was 6- I can still remember getting the call that she had made RUSH as I was standing in the Phoenix office, tearing up as I heard Coach Shannon say that she wanted her for the U7 team.  Since that time, being goalie has been her thing- the position she prefers, the position she thrives in.  When she is in the zone, my GG owns the box.  You can see the concentration in her eyes, in her moves, the way she anticipates where the ball will go.  Her competitive nature comes out- the red head gets a little fiery.  Yes- that is my girl.

Now GG is at the next level of play, a true competitive travel soccer team.  This is our first year playing at this level, and at the first “pre-season” tournament things did not exactly go her way.  She had not played all summer.  The team was worn out the second game due to the hot Georgia sun, the ref made a few bad calls, she had a few unlucky breaks, she made a bad move. 

And she was mad.

The game was called for lightening, and as the team crossed the field she was exiting at a 90 degree tangent away from everyone else.  I know this look.  Heck, I own this look, and let the girl borrow it from time to time.  I clearly knew this was one of those times.

I met her about half way across the field, and she greets me with “I am so MAD.  I Just. Can’t. Talk. About. It.” (Please see second to last rule).  A few seconds later, she looks at me and says

“I need 5 minutes of inappropriate language.”

“Okay”, I say (trying not to laugh- she is so serious about this), “Go ahead”.

And for the next few sentences, she tentatively lets it fly.  She lets out an F-bomb.  She inappropriately used the B word (yeah, the ref was male).

But let me tell you she meant it!  And is it wrong to say that I was proud of her?  This girl NEVER breaks the rules, and it’s good for her to feel like she is crossing the line a little now and then.  And if a few swear words are the biggest issue I have to worry about, then let’s be honest- Thank.  God.

And after she lets these few sentences go, she looks around and says “I  don’t want to say anything else because I don’t want Belle to hear”.  And my GG is back, worrying more about others than herself.

We talk about the game the whole ride home.  It takes a lot of convincing for her to not be so hard on herself, to accept that in life we get tough breaks and mistakes will happen, but you move on, learn, and live to defend the goal another day.

And that’s just what she did- less than 24 hours later, in one of the best games I have ever seen her play.

And both the day before, and at the end of the 60 minutes of the last game, I have never been so proud of her.

I Feel Home

I feel home,
when I see the faces that remember my own.
I feel home,
when I'm chilling outside with the people I know.
I feel home,
and that's just what I feel.
Home to me is reality,
and all I need is something real.

Well in the end we can all call a friend
well that's something I know as true.
And then a thousand years and a thousand tears
I'll come finding my original crew

cause to me throughout eternity
there's somewhere where you're welcome to go
I said it's something free that means a lot to me
when I'm with my friends I feel home.
 *************************************
How I wish I could take credit for these lyrics.  But I can’t.  So I won’t.  I will just say how they perfectly capture that night….

It’s the last weekend before the girls return.  I have had some good times going out, and some pure, peaceful moments of solitude, and relished in them both.  But this last weekend was one of those magical times when it all seems to come together- a destiny of moments that call out to be remembered in future nights with those that shared in its magic.

Time with friends is always special, but when close friends end up relocating to Nashville (a convenient 3 hour commute away), one of their favorite bands are playing at a venue I have been wanting to check out, and oh, and it’s his 39 birthday, well, as they say, it’s a done deal.

C & J, or CJ as we will affectionately refer to them here, are “those” type of friends; the ones who I love and adore as individuals, but together as a couple they are special.  The type of friends that you go months (or perhaps even years) without talking to and pick up right where you left off.   Friends that call you that nickname that you haven’t heard since the last time you saw them.  Friends you have known for life, or at least you feel like you do.  And regardless of the plans, or lack thereof, you know you will have a great time just because you are together. 

CJ arrive Friday night, and we laugh at how we have both clearly anticipated the end of the world as we have prepared enough food and beer for the next apocalypse.  Another “I immediately connect with you”  friend (and awesome dog) join us that night for an evening of “OMGwhathaveyoubeendoingtellmeeverything”.   We casually sit around the kitchen table, loosing track of time and glasses of sangria, noshing on snacks until the lateness of the night takes over and we know we have to give in because there is yet another night of fun and catching up to be had.  And after goodbyes and goodnights you realize that your cheeks are slightly sore because you have been smiling and laughing for the past countless hours.

The next day is an event.  We head out to one of my favorite local breweries, but what makes it special is that yet another feels like life-long friend joins us for the fun.  After taking in some local flavor (aka- seasonal release craft brew) we head downtown for dinner.  Soon the 5 of us are together, friends new and old, all sitting around a table during senior citizen dining hours at a wonderful Atlanta restaurant, without a care in the world as we share dishes, stories and friendship.  What amazes me most about this moment is the ease of it all; here, I am surrounded by people I have known for almost 40 years to only a few, and yet we all get along so effortlessly.  We all seem to share the same fundamental approach to life, and are having fun in this moment; comrades in arms.

We head over to the concert- the venue is amazing.  On old church, clearly with a storied past, the unique beauty of how the light filters through the stained glass windows, now reinvented, living a new life.  I immediately relate.  

We stake our claim on the main floor, and listen to some music that you can’t believe is just the opening act.  Then suddenly, captured by an all-encompassing sound that, while you may not be familiar with still tugs at your heart, the headliner O.A.R is playing.  The music connects with me.  It’s an experience- and it’s not just the music.  It’s these friends that I am surrounded by- friends new and old, and how I connect with each one of them, and how it would not have been the same that night if it had been anyone else.  I can feel how happy I am, pretending to sing along with song I don’t know, and not having a care in the world.  How I find heartfelt conversation in stolen moments among the buzz of the crowd.  How I realize that I am truly so lucky to know and have these people in my life, and how there is an aspect of this moment that you don’t want to end.   And just like the first night I saw Red Wanting Blue on Girls Weekend, or that night after my first Tri, it’s this night- this is what I will hold on to days, weeks from now, remembering…  how my heart felt home.

And now real life moves on, but I still have that soundtrack playing in the background as I work, cook dinner for the girls, pay bills… all with this sly smile that tells a story… the story of that night.

Happy New Year!

Anyone that knows me well knows that I get a little “Deep Thoughts” around my birthday.  Maybe it has something to do with the season; my birthday happens to land on or around the first day of spring, and the feeling of newness, potential, re-birth is in the air. Literally. And no I don't just mean the pollen.  A good friend called it your personal New Year- the start of your own personal calendar of events.  I love that. For me, taking time to reflect on the past 12 months, taking an inventory of what I have accomplished, where I am and most importantly, where I want to go, is important to me.  I often say that my most valuable asset is my time- not just as a single mother, but as someone who wants to be that person who gets the most out of every minute.  As much as it might pain me to say it, in work terms, I want to have the most “value-add” to my time.

But somewhere in my quest to get the most out of every minute, I forgot to factor in the most important component- to actually enjoy the moment. 

In my constant rush to get it all done, show how much I have accomplished, “prove my worth”, I managed to not really provide myself.  I failed to savor the moment that I was in.  OK, so perhaps not every moment is meant to be savored- certainly not, say, paying bills or fertilizing the lawn, but the point is that I was trying to get so much done that I would often multi-task and therefore never place my full focus on accomplishing what was in front of me. I rarely was “all in” with whatever I was doing.  I realized what a disservice I was doing to myself and those in my life… such as answering emails while watching a show with the girls- neither task was I truly present for.
Therefore, my New Year’s Resolution is to do less.

Yes, to do LESS. 

Seriously, do you know how much I try to do in a day?  It is no wonder that the only time I really- I mean really- ever sit down and don’t think of anything is when I get a pedicure (seriously, not nearly enough these days) and when I take a flight.  And as I haven’t traveled in about 5 weeks that a lot of not sitting.  If anyone realized how my mind churns I think it might be able to power a small city- ok, perhaps just a municipality, but still.  Power. From my mental multi-tasking.  No wonder I seem so scatter-brained, because that is exactly what I am.

I realized that I needed an excuse to do less.  To commit to stopping everything else and focus on the here and now.  To not fold laundry while I listen to a friend’s phone conversation.  To have someone come over and with the sole purpose of talking and watching Sons of Anarchy in order to do nothing else. 

Trying to not get three things done at once is hard- this doing nothing takes some work.

And yet I know it’s good for me.  Necessary.  Important.  Makes me better.  Most importantly, makes me happy.  Lets me exhale.  And maybe the value is that I can show my girls that I don’t have to be accomplishing something every minute of the day in order to have value.  That being together, sharing who I am, in the moment, is value enough.

Maybe, just as important, is to value that lesson myself.

Super Power

A few weeks back I was traveling for work and went out for a cocktail with a good friend after a very long day at the office.  I truly enjoy hanging out with him, and not just because I tend to be better friends with men than with woman, but because our conversations always cover three things: workplace politics, beer and everything else.  We have known each other for quite some time, and therefore he knew me when I was married, the subsequent divorce and life now.  He has seen the roller coaster ride, and even with that first row seat a question came up that, while I certainly have heard before, I didn’t think I would ever hear it from him-

“Is it worth it?”

“It”, in the simplest meaning, is of course the divorce.  But in truth I know what he meant- the pain, the hurt, the drama, the financial strain, the embarrassment, loss of friends, distraction from work, and upheaval of your entire life as you knew it only to now be left with uncertainty.

I answered, “Yes.”

 

We talked through all that had occurred, some of which he had visibility to as he remembered it and some of which he had no idea about.  After a long discussion, rehashing the turmoil and recapping the revelations, all he could say was “I just don’t know…..” and shake his head.
 

I know that there was so much unspoken in that shake of his head.  We are close friends and I know his situation, and we have certainly broached this topic before.  I know that it has not been a happy home for quite some time, and that there has been a lot of “fix it” attempts.  As he put it, it’s not so much a life of happiness as much as it is routine, and the predictability that goes along with that.  The predictability of how he will be treated, even if that isn't in a good way. The predictability of feeling like you are roommates vs. husband and wife, and that you have come to realize you no longer want the same things out of life.  And through the entire conversation, it was fascinating to me to be presented with a similar situation and see how someone would choose the other path- the path to stay- and what that looks like in their eyes.   Knowing that you and your spouse will never be the way you once were, and while it was livable and functional, and you care for that person, it’s not the way you thought your marriage- your life- would be.  And that is the part that I can’t stop thinking about--- that it’s not the way you thought it would be, or even want it to be, and yet you accept it for what it is and plow through.  Keep your head down and carry on.

And in thinking this, I asked-

“Is it worth it?”

I think it’s much easier for me to judge now, having made it to the other side.  But more than that, I think that in some ways, it’s easier for me as a woman.  There is a huge stigma that follows men that “leave their wife”.  I never understood this, because there is no way two people can be in the same marriage and one can be happy and the other isn’t- he might just be the one to say it first.  And if he also happens to be the one that decides to leave first, from there on out he abandoned her.  But what if she wasn’t a good partner?  What if she was emotionally manipulative, controlling, and unhappy? What if he thought he would be happier if he moved on?   What would you think of him?

Now imagine that same scenario, only it’s the woman who leaves, and it’s the man who isn’t the good partner, and she is the one who wanted a better life?  Doesn’t  feel the same, does it?  As if we shouldn’t expect men to want the same things out of a marriage as a woman.  But perhaps that way of thinking just encourages those traditional stereotypes that tend to create the great divide in the first place. 
 

And there lays the choice; choose to stay because you feel it is your responsibility, you don’t want to upset the kids, and you think that the backlash of those in your outer circle, financial strain and overall upheaval is not worth it.  Or, choose to leave, and believe that there is a better life for yourself, the ability to show your kids what a good relationship should look like, and that the reality is that all those other things are just distractions and won’t matter in the end.  But that is having faith in something that you can’t see, just believe exists, while the other is your reality, not matter how bad it is.  It’s real, tangible… it is your life. 

 

Holding on is like believing that there’s only a past; letting go and moving on is knowing in your heart that there’s a bright future ahead.  And that is where the super power comes in- the power of choice.  Choosing which path you take.  In the end, sometimes the greatest amount of strength we need is just to take that first step.

Better late than never....

So... I've been a little busy. OK, a LOT busy.  Miss the Blog.  Just know there are many more posts to come- some are written, some still in thought stage, but either way just need to post (look forward to stories about Paris, striving for a little less crazy in life, and the hilarity that is on-line dating!)

Regardless, it's that time again... Who cares that it's February? Time to put out to the universe my life list for 2013... need to get on the f'ing ball.  Love that I already feel behind. Seriously.

2013 Life List

Explore the East Coast-

o   Walk the Freedom Trail with the girls

o   Go whale watching

o   Eat a lobster in Maine

 

Complete the following:

o   3 5ks (already signed up for a series!)

o   1 Triathlon

o   1 Mud Race Obstacle Course (Dirty Girl Mud Run???)

 

·         Learn how to make Yorkshire Pudding from my parents

·         Plan my 40^th Birthday Party.  (Seriously.  40.  It NEEDS to be a party.)

 

Explore Atlanta like a tourist- such as:

o   World of Coke

o   Stone Mountain Laser show and events

o   Concert at Chastain

o   Centennial Park

o   Carter Center

o   Turner Field

o   CNN Tour

o   Atlanta Botanical Gardens

o   Atlanta Symphony Orchestra

o   The Shakespeare Tavern Playhouse / Georgia Shakespeare

o   Oakland Cemetery

 

 

Time to get started.

 

For What It's Worth

It all started with a ferret.

We were at the pet store picking up a trough of food for the 108lb puppy, when Belle came across the showcase displaying ferrets.  She immediately began oohing and ahhing and aren’t they so cute type of stuff, and of course this led to the question of “Can I have one?”.   Knowing that this child inherited my financial habits (how an equally cute pair of shoes leaves me oohing and ahhing and then I must bring them home with me) I tell her “Sure, as long as you pay for it.” At the price tag of lots more money than she can comprehend, she then asks “So when do I get my allowance?”

The question of allowance in my house is a tough one.  I personally believe that my children should do chores not because they get paid to, but because they are part of the family.  I, in turn, am supposed to supply them with money once a month to teach them fiscal responsibility.  But inevitably the first of the month comes and goes and I forget.  And then we are in a store, and they want a little something, and I oblige.  This is totally against my grand scheme to teach them the value of money, and to not spend it on crap- especially if you are saving for something bigger and better.  But what can I say?  In moments of weakness I forget and sometimes there is just not enough time in the day to explain why you don’t need one more sparkly headband. 

But, determined to get back on track, as soon as we head home I call a family meeting.  I explain that it’s time to revisit the issue of allowance, and that I took full responsibility for my part in the forgetting and the indulging, but the reality is that we need to work together in order to make this system work.  Their part, I explain, is that they were to put together a proposal of what they thought they should earn a month- Belle had to come up with 3 supporting points to her case, and GG had to come up with 5.  From there, we would discuss their proposal, and if I agreed, I would write up a contract agreeing to the terms and we would both sign it. 

Yes, I am that kind of mom.

Belle ran upstairs and was back in 3 minutes.  Literally. Her reasons basically all boiled down to the same thing- because she deserved it.  I told her this was less than a compelling argument, and after explaining what compelling meant she stomped back upstairs- only to return a few minutes later.  Her reasons this time was because I work so hard, because I do my chores well, and because I deserve it.  Clearly, she learned a lesson here…. Yeah- not so much.

GG came down about a half hour after our initial conversation and tried to present to me while standing about 20 yards away.  I told her that was not going to cut it- she needed to look me in the eye and present her case.  She did a good job- while some of the reasons were repeats (Because I do a good job, because I do it well, etc.) I was proud of her for really thinking it through. 

But here is the funny part.

When asked how much they thought they should earn a month, GG, as always, tended on the more conservative side.  Her proposal?  $15/ month.  Belle, on the other hand, clearly puts a much higher value on her precious time- she came to me with a request for $20/ month.

Classic.

After explaining to Belle that far exceeded what I was willing to pay, her next argument was to lobby for at LEAST the same amount as GG, because, of course, they were both living in the same house and had the same number of chores.  I quickly pointed out that first, I pay for the house, and while I could never put a price on how much I valued them both as daughters, you don’t get paid to just be my daughter (although, in hind sight, there might be some validity to this).  Second, the number of chores did not matter as much as what the chores were, and I walked her through how more complex GG’s responsibilities were.  While she was not happy, she begrudgingly agreed that made sense.

So eventually, after the proposals, and talking to my sister for some market price comparisons of what the going rate on allowances were these days, we finally all agreed on an amount.  No, it was not what either of them had initially requested (some more, some less- you can guess which way that turned out), but it was something that I thought was fair and able to sustain all of the “gimmie’s” that might come up along the way.

I hope that their take away is that while you may not always get what you want, you have to ask for it.  And really, more than just ask for it, but justify it with solid evidence to support the request.

Good thing I provide this justification to myself every time I come across a cute pair of shoes. 

Funny, regardless of the reasons, I always happen to agree.

Setting Expectations

Here we are- just a few days before my first Triathlon.  Even writing those words together- “My” and “Triathlon” are still a little foreign to me.  I know that I have been working toward this goal for almost 6 months- and not just building up my stamina for the swim, bike and run portions, but  there has been so much mental preparation as well.  There was the signing up- because you know, once I am committed to something, there is no backing down.  Then I started researching training plans, and after those initial first laps in the pool where after  100 meters I thought I might drown in exhaustion, not letting that discourage me and instead drive me to improve.   Then there is the equipment- new running shoes (yay!), purchasing a bike (used),  learning to clip in on the bike (yeah, that was comical- 20 minutes on the first try), forgetting you are clipped in when you stop (aka- you fall over), and that is not to mention the special gloves, socks, racing belt, sunglasses, goggles, and the ever glamorous tri-suit (you know what is not attractive?  Me- in spandex.)  Anyway, I have navigated through all of that, and with the event only days away, I all mixed up with this combination of nervousness and excitement.

I think more nervous than excited, but it depends on the moment.

I know this is not an Iron Man, but for me it has nothing to do with the distance, it has everything to do with being there.  Setting a goal and accomplishing it.

Which is where the whole “setting expectations” part comes in.

Shortly after I had signed up for the race, I went and researched the previous few years winners in my age category.  I found the best times for each segment of the race, as well as the best transition times.  Clearly, I was going to beat all of these- on my first time out, nonetheless.  To say I have high expectations of myself is not a surprise, and ok, I MAY tend to set the bar a little high sometimes, but I don’t think that being a goal driven individual is a bad thing.  The challenge comes when someone such as myself sets an expectation, and then holds yourself to the standard of either you are the best- or you are not.  And if you aren’t the best, then what does that make you?  Ahhhhh…. There’s the rub.  No one sets out to say- yes, my goal is to be mediocre!  I want to come in with the rest of the pack!

Again, the lessons we are forced to learn…..

The reality is that Life has a way of happening, and in between the demands we all face, I was not always able to check every box in that very detailed training plan that I so diligently researched in the beginning.  I did not make the cycling club practices, nor was I able to complete an open water swim.  I know- all this is less than ideal.  And after my first few transitions going from a 20 mile bike to trying to run at all was nearly impossible, I seriously started to question my ability that I was going to finish, let alone make the best time. 

One giant piece of humility coming up!

Now I have a different set of expectations.  And while I jokingly tell people that my new goal is to just not have the paramedics carry me off the course, the reality is that I have faith in my ability to at least get it done.  I won’t be fast, I may have to walk (although I really hope not), but I WILL cross the finish line.  And regardless of what the official race clock shows,  I will feel like a champion when I do, because that is my own race- with myself- that I will have won.  I will have achieved my personal best by just going out and doing something that I have never done before.  I am acknowledging that just finishing  is something wonderful.  And hopefully, moving forward, I will be able to apply that same philosophy to other parts of my life- that being the best me is the best accomplishment, the best reward, that there is.

One step at a time, I know I will get to that finish line.