Finding My Way

I have never been one for Black Friday.  You know, the after Thanksgiving frenzy where you might have the pleasure of witnessing a rabid shopper use pepper spray in order to get an Xbox?  Oh yeah, that day.

Knowing that, a year and a half ago my sister and her family happened to be in town (aka- Michigan back then) and we decided to brave the crowds and get up at 4:30 to experience this phenomenon.  People, these stories are legendary.  The line wrapped around the store just to get in.  Women wandered past in a haze telling urban legen-esk stories of items being gone with in 1 minute of a store opening, to talking to a guy that had camped out for 3 days (talking from a distance, I hope for their sake).  Given all that, I will say my sister and I had a blast.  The day exceeded all expectations, and not just for the sales (which, can you say SCORE?) but more importantly it was how much fun I had with my sister.  All in all, a day I will never forget.

During this shopping extravaganza, we were admiring some silver necklaces.  I picked one up, and I know it sounds crazy to say but I felt like I connected with it.  The charm hanging from the silver chain was a compass, and on the back there was an inscription that read "There are no shortcuts to anywhere worth going".  Essentially, you have to brave the crowds, early hours, and mass chaos to get the deal you want. 

My sister gave me the necklace last Christmas.  I wore it with pride all through the move, the divorce, and bringing the Girls to Georgia.  It gave me strength; it reminded me that it is all part of the journey, and while difficult, the prize at the end is worth it. 

Somewhere along the way I ended up taking the necklace off.  Certainly I had made it, right?  I am here, surviving, and creating the life I want.

Ah, I can hear the Universe laughing out loud at such notions.......

Today, while packing for yet another business trip, I came across the necklace.  It was slightly tarnished, but nothing a little polish couldn't fix.  And while I know the Universe was laughing at my cocky thought process, it was also providing me something that I didn't even know I needed- that not so gentle reminder that when faced with things that I can't image how I am going to get through, it is all part of the journey, and the prize at the end is worth it.

Now, the necklace is back on.  It provides me reassurance every time I look down at the compass.  I remember hundreds of challenging moments over the past year, and that the charm was around my neck during all of those times.  A good reminder that I can through this time, too. 

A reminder that I am not lost, I am just finding my way.

Is it over yet?

Well, it was bound to come up sooner or later, and the other night at dinner, the topic was brought forth by the girls.

"What are we doing Christmas morning?"

And there it was.  This moment, of many, during the first year after a divorce where you face down any day with significance with sheer determination just.to.make.it.through. It is hard enough when it is a day that just affects you; your first wedding anniversary or your birthday, for instance, but when we are dealing with events that affect multiple people, and add to that traditions that are related to it, well, it becomes a whole other story.

It's not like I didn't know it was coming. Heck, who could avoid the Christmas wrapping paper that was out prior to October 31?  Then, not long after, you start to see the outside decorations come to life- stores getting decked out, talk of Black Friday, with poor Thanksgiving left in the dust. And OMG I saw my first "Every Kiss Begins With K" commercial yesterday.  Yep, that  made me just a little sick. And through it all, I just chose to ignore it, but alas, it's coming whether I like it or not.

But when it comes to the Big Daddy of them all, it seems that every little thing has meaning.  Case in point- coming down the stairs Christmas morning.  A seemingly innocent enough idea, right?  But now, it has become a "thing".  Every year since we had kids my sister and I have traveled to each other's homes for Christmas, alternating between Michigan and Georgia.  And every year since the day they were born, the kids would all wait upstairs while the bleary eyed adults had coffee and sustenance to face the mounds of presents that took hours to open.  Finally the official Price is Right moment arrived- "Come on Down!!!!"- and the gaggle of kids came racing down the stairs to bask in the glory that is Christmas morning.   For the past 12 years this is how it happened. Now my sister lives right down the street, and this is really no longer realistic.  But when I explained this to them, the looks of disappointment in the girls' eyes when they played back to me "You mean, it's going to just be the 3 of us?" Well, as Janice so eloquently once said, take another little piece of my heart....

And while there are so many other "things" out there that need to be dealt with- the logistics of the girls traveling to Michigan, deciding where all the decorations go in the new house, having to get a tree on my own, and just riding the emotional roller coaster until January 2, I will put on a brave face with a Joker smile and get through it.  There are times that I have to sit back and acknowledge all that has occurred over the past 9 months alone.  I have faced those events, and every one has made me a stronger person.  This past week alone I paused to acknowledge all the wonderful things in my life, and while that does not include a partner-in-crime, it certainly does not mean that I am alone.  I just need to remember that. Besides, I know that 2012 is just right around the corner....

46 more days to go.

Constant

There is a dead spider in my hallway.

I am embarrassed to say how long it has been there, but let’s just say I might have noticed it shortly after my last post.

It’s not that it doesn’t freak me out a little every time I pass it, and I am certainly not keeping it there for any particular reason, I just haven’t quiet gotten to it yet.

As of late, my house has looked more like a pack of rabid weasels have come in and torn the place apart than the organized tight ship I like to run.  OK, so maybe it’s more like organized chaos with one oar out of the water type of life raft, but it works for me.  As of late, it’s not even a pool floaty with a slow leak.

As in most households with school age children, the craziness involved in the transition from the relaxed wonders of summer vacation to the ramp up of a new school year has once again provided a quick snap back to reality.  Only, the problem is, this reality (that of being a working single mom) and I have yet to really meet, let alone become friends.

Over the past few crazy weeks, while I have been coming to grips with what this looks like, there is one word that keeps coming back and best defines it; this new life is constant.

This life is a constant state of what’s next, what was left un-done, and that is just going to have to wait for another day because it’s not vital that I do it today.  A constant state of never enough time, constant reference to the “to-do” list, and constant longing for 15 minutes to just sit down in silence and breathe.

As with the majority of women I know, I felt that I pretty much did the crux of the household management when I was married.  Even if that was true, there was always someone to tap me out of the ring when it became too much; the fall back of divide and conquer.  But now, that dynamic no longer exists.   This truly came to light on the Fourth of July in what can now be called “The Great Taco Sauce Incident”. We had dinner with all of the neighbors at the pool, and as the sky became overcast we all headed home.  There was some debate on whether to go into town to try to watch the fireworks vs. get caught in a legendary southern downpour, and in the end we decided to go for it.  As I was handing out typical pre-departure directions to the girls (go to the bathroom, grab a raincoat, and for the love of God please take off those new white sandals before they are covered in red Georgia mud) I was quickly unloading the dinner contents out of the cooler and into the fridge.  The jar of taco sauce slipped out of my hands.  It was new. It was family size.  It was practically full.  Trying to grab it mid-air only made it tumble out of control and cover the walls, cupboards, and inside the fridge with red taco sauce.  At the same moment my sister honks the horn indicating that her family is waiting for us to pile into the minivan and head downtown.   In my prior life it would have been easy to say “you get the kids and I will clean this up” or, ideally, had another pair of hands to help with the mess.  But as it quickly came to light, it’s all me, baby.

That is just one example of many where it is not only the physical (how do I move that filing cabinet down the stairs by myself, or accept the fact that I have to wait for someone to come over to help me) to the logistical (no one else to attend school open house, review homework, or share soccer practice duties with.  Trying to scheduling each girls’ activities on separate days so there are no driving conflicts) to the financial (no one to discuss with the pros and cons of getting the chimney cap sanded and painted vs. replacing it with a new one). 

Which brings me to the last constant, and that is one that I know so well; guilt.

Oh, guilt is my constant companion and loves to keep me company late at night.  Guilt that it’s never good enough.  If I need to focus on the kids, work suffers.  If I focus on work, the kids suffer.  Guilt knowing that in either situation I am doing all I can and I feel it’s barely enough to get by.  My inbox is out of control, and I missed items on the girls’ school supply list.  I decline a call to be able to attend meet and greet, and I miss open house because I am on a plane coming back from who knows where.  I greet them at the bus stop every day I am home at 2:30 but am not always there to kiss them goodnight. All the while I am just trying to keep that constant pace, reminding myself to still talk kindly, keep a smile on, keep it in perspective, and most importantly keep it together.

Look, it’s not that I didn’t know it was going to be hard.  I really did think these scenarios through.  And it may come off like this post is just one big complaint, but I really mean it when I say it’s not- it just is what it is.  I am beyond grateful to have support from my amazing sister and her family, which I would never be able to do any of this without. Because while the reality is that it may seem I have made it more difficult than it needs to be because we moved, I would gladly take this constant pace with the other constant that I know- and that is that moving is still the right choice, and I would make the same decision all over again if I had to.

So, I acknowledge that reality- my reality- is changing.  And I guess that is the true constant in life- change. We learn to grow and adapt better than we ever thought possible, and in looking back we amaze even ourselves when we say “I can’t believe I made it through that”.

Well, at least that’s what I hope I will say, or at least something like it.

Until then, I have a dead spider I need to attend to.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Please Put Your Tray Tables In Their Upright Position....

It has been one week since the big move. One week that I have been on my own.  One week of finding our way and trying to determine what this is going to look like.  There have been some great highs, such as hearing the girls laughter fill up the house, or both sleeping so soundly from playing hard all day. There have also been some difficult lows; hearing how much they miss Michigan and everything that goes along with that, or random spurts of crying- take your pick from any of us at any given moment. 

But I am not going to lie.

I am a little sick of myself.

This behavior is SO not me- I am the positive one, yes we can, I can accomplish anything type of girl.  It is the difference between the glass half full and where the hell is the rest of my drink?  It is the difference between Eeyore and Tigger (and Tiggers are wonderful things). It is the difference between greeting each day as an opportunity to accomplish something great vs. gotta make the donuts. Well, you get the picture….

OK, so perhaps I should cut myself some slack- I did just end a relationship, move 4 states away with two kids and a dog, and left all I have known my entire life behind.  But to me these circumstances are just excuses.  And I can’t stand excuses.  My mind thinks, “This is what'cha got girl- make it happen!”  THAT is how I live- look at a situation and face it head on. 

So, what is the solution?

Put on your oxygen mask.

Let’s face it- I fly a lot; so much so that I could personally recite the Flight Attendant safety demonstration.  During their little speech, your friendly flight attendant will explicitly tell you in the event of an emergency or loss of cabin pressure a yellow oxygen masks will deploy from the ceiling compartment located above you. To secure, pull the mask towards you, secure the elastic strap to your head, and fasten it so it covers your mouth and nose. Even if the bag does not inflate, please keep in mind that oxygen is flowing. Breathe normally.

Got it.

So now, my yellow oxygen mask consists of connecting with college friends in the area, other co-workers, neighbors that I look forward to getting to know better and other neighbors I haven’t met yet.  Joining Atlanta PCW (Professional Career Women), 35UP!, Corporate Cocktail Weekly, and of course, Hockey Night in Atlanta.  It also means not skipping my workouts- following the 5k training program because it’s something that I want to prove to myself.  Being the best mom I can be, and not sweating the small stuff.  Finding a really good Yoga class. Making plans for my best friend to fly into town for a much needed girls weekend. Visiting my local farmers market.  Cooking a real dinner for me and the girls- every night. Still listening to music regardless of the memories.  Putting on my pretty little sun dresses with sassy shoes and a cute pedicure- just because. Laughing.  Remembering to exhale.

And you know what?  It does make me feel happier, and therefore the girls are happier.  We laugh, joke, and have fun, even though there is still a layer of sadness underneath the veil of sunshine.  I realized that who I am never really went away; I just lost sight of her for a while. My outlook on life is what drives me; it doesn’t have to be challenging or difficult just because it doesn’t fit into what I think it should be right now.  The reality is that it is exactly what it’s supposed to be right now. 

And even though it is still hard, and I am sad and missing what- and who- I have lost, I remind myself of everything that I still have- the love of two amazing kids, family and friends who support me, and a vast amount of potential and opportunity before me.  How lucky am I? 

So, does that mean that I have it all figured out?  That I have shed my last tear? Heck no!  But as I have told myself every morning when I wake up, I am one baby step closer to finding my way.  And yes, I realize that the plane hasn’t even left the tarmac yet.

Oh, and one last reminder...

Please make sure your seat belt is securely fastened at all times.

There is sure to be some turbulence along this flight.

Mourning

Mourning:  state of sorrow over a death or departure; the passionate and demonstrative activity of expressing grief.

It has been a rough week.

The past few days of transition, change and emotional upheaval have been very difficult for all involved.  There were numerous teary goodbyes with cherished family and friends.  The girls were quickly realizing that their lives were about to venture drastically into the unknown, and between the three of us we all were feeling a new emotion every few minutes.  Combine all of this with the final stages of packing, closing out the legal aspects, and oh yeah, coming to the realization that the time to leave was really here, well- it was a lot to take.

Tuesday night, as the Expedition was already packed bumper to bumper, I was making the final rounds of each room in the house searching for lost remnants that we might have left behind.  When I went into GG’s room, what I found proved more devastating than any of us realized; Goldie, her pet goldfish, was no longer among the living.


First, let me tell you about Goldie- or, the Wonder Fish as I liked to call him.  Goldie was a gift from Santa when GG was 4.  Let me remind you that she is 10 going on 11, so yes, that makes the goldfish 6 years old.  Seriously, I didn’t even know that was possible.  In all honesty, we were concerned about him being able to make the trip, and in the end it might have been a blessing in disguise because, holy cow that could have been a real tragedy if it had happened on I-75. But even with that being said, I still looked up to the ceiling and just said, “Really?!?!”  


So after one last round of fun with the neighborhood gang, and all of the I-will-miss-yous were complete, GG came home and M and I proceeded to tell her.  She was devastated.  She had that sad, soulful cry that comes from deep inside your heart- right from where it is broken.  We did our best to console her, but being the sensitive and loving person she is, she just took the loss straight to heart. 


We then had to tell Belle, and while this was not her fish, she suddenly was sobbing huge tears, and it was from that same place- from deep inside her heart. 


Hearing both of my girls so broken, not to mention my own sense of loss and heartbreak I was feeling that day, I found myself crying that deep, soulful cry right alongside them.  There we were, the three of us, all crying together, and at this point it really didn’t have anything to do with the goldfish.


Leaving Wednesday was even more of a challenge than I thought it would be.  I had already moved, so I didn’t really give it a second thought.  But right before I pulled out of the driveway, it hit me- I would never return to this house again.  I remember when we bought the house- man, did we feel like we had “made it”.  The huge Luau party we had there, feeding the ducks in the backyard pond, the measurements on the wall from every birthday… lots of memories.  So as I drove in the pre-dawn darkness and the girls still slept, I cried as quietly as I could and mourned the loss of that, too. 


Arriving at the Georgia house Wednesday night- another heavy dose of reality.  After tucking the girls into bed after such a long day, GG said to me “this just doesn’t feel like my life.” Oh, girl- how true those words are.  I told her that I knew exactly how she felt.  After being on the road so much for work, I have made a significant cut in my travel in order to be here for the girls.  I know it’s obviously the right thing, and I can’t tell you how happy I am to have them here, but in so many ways it’s just different than the life I am used to leading. My job, my daily schedule, my personal connections, my support system, my well known surroundings- all changed- and some parts just gone.


After the kids were asleep, I head down to my room- the little sanctuary that I have come to know and love. I slide into bed with it's crisp white sheets but still all cozy and warm, and I sleep really well- it’s good to be back in this space that I have made my own.


This morning, I woke up, and after my sleepy headed children made their way downstairs, I make them a special breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes.  Sitting at the table, looking out into the backyard, I noticed this at the back near the fence:

This rose bush was a scrubby twig that I had transplanted a few months back, not really knowing what it was going to look like, or for that matter if it was going to take at all.  And here, on our first morning together, were 3 red roses in full bloom waiting to greet us.  Yes, I will totally take it as a sign, or whatever you want to call it.  Remembering that I really had not held out much hope for this twig, and that it is already blooming into something beautiful, well, it gives me hope and is a reminder that the best is yet to come.

Morning: Originally referred to sunrise, it is the start of a new day.    

Good Morning, indeed.