Some Days. February 28, 2010

Some days, I write encouraging and uplifting things in this blog.  Some days, I don’t.

Some days, I have expectations of people and they disappoint me.  Some days, I expect nothing and am thrilled by unforeseen kindness.

Some days, I feel like my children and family and friends are plenty.  Some days, I worry I’ll never be in love again.

Some days, being single seems like a good fit.  Some days, I miss being married.

Some days, I think my ass looks great in a pair of jeans.  Some days, I worry that my thighs are too fat.

Some days, I love being alone and realize that one of the unexpected divorce perks is all the “me” time that I haven’t had in a decade.  Some days, I miss my kids so much it eats a hole in me.

Some days, I eat right and exercise hard.  Some days, I binge on chocolate and drink that extra glass of wine and sit on my butt watching tv.

Some days, I miss the person my ex used to be.  Some days, I realize I’m lucky to be rid of the person he is now.

Some days, I feel like a rock star.  Some days, I worry that I’m not good enough.

Some days, I think I could’ve been a better wife.  Some days, I know I never did anything to deserve the way I was treated.

Some days, I am brimming with confidence.  Some days, I am filled with doubt.

Some days, I laugh so hard that I cry.  Some days, I just cry.

Some days, even with all that has happened in the past year, I feel truly happy and truly content.  Some days, not so much.

Someday, I hope I’ll understand.

Go Ahead, Make My Day. February 26, 2010

A few nights back I read a great, great blog post from Clare at Life on the C Train that had me nodding feverishly and saying “Yes!  That’s exactly it!”  (Wanna read it?  Here:  http://lifeonthectrain.blogspot.com/2010/02/about-those-seeds.html)  I commented and told her so (more or less) and she replied, “Thanks for making my evening.”  Now, I don’t know Clare and wouldn’t recognize her if I passed her on the street, but needless to say, THAT made MY evening.

Which got me thinking.

Lately, I have received words of encouragement and gifts of support from the unlikeliest of places.  And some of them Just.Mean.Everything.  It’s hard to tell when a compliment, a shout-out, a hand up, or just a smile will hit someone at exactly the right moment—that moment when they’re feeling all grey inside and really need a pick-me-up—but whenever it happens, and especially when it happens at one of those moments, it can turn your whole day around.  Sometimes we tell people how much their unintentional kindness means to us, and sometimes we don’t.  But we should.  Because when we do, sometimes we can unknowingly make their day in return.

So, bear with me on the cheesiness factor if you can (and if you can’t, skip me today—I’ll try to post something sarcastic and snarky tomorrow to balance it all out), and allow me a moment of gratitude to the following people for the following reasons.  Whether they knew it or not and whether these people read this or not and in no particular order, they all recently made my day:

@Robyn, for unexpectedly posting my blog link on her Facebook page with a sweet “i love you, mere.”

@Leesy, for always finding me at school functions with a hug and a smile and for knowing just what needs to be done for a single parent alone at a school musical, like taking this photo:

 

@Clay, for reminding me that it isn’t only women out there dealing with divorce and single-parenting, and for taking the time to tell me that he was reading.

@Jen at http://txmomof3.wordpress.com/, for talking me into blogging in the first place and for unwittingly allowing me to copy your writing style.  I’m loving the ride, and I owe you.

@Sarah at http://4040vision.wordpress.com/, for linking and for complimenting.

@Robin, for sharing my Christmas card letter with friends and for telling me the results of same (especially when the sharing was accidentally with the wife of one of my ex’s co-workers).

@Everyone who has read this blog and commented/emailed/messaged me to say they liked it or shared it with someone else.  Ultimate validation.

@Commenter Jenny, whose “I think I’d really like you if we met” was such an incredibly nice thing to say.

@My uber-phenomenal babysitter Morgan, whose skinny and perky and young and adorable 20-year-old self told my 38-year-old-post-3-kids-self today that she hopes she will look as good as I do when she is my age—thank you for my motivation to continue exercising and taking care of me (even if I also found out in the same conversation that I am the same age as your mother).

And I know there are more that either didn’t happen in the last 24 hours or that I am just feebly not remembering at the moment.  BUT–I’m going to start paying attention and taking note, and I’m gonna post a “Make My Day” Redux soon.

If someone has particularly made your day recently, tell them.  And then tell me, because I’m just nosy that way.

Raise ‘Em Up. February 25, 2010

It takes FOREVER to raise a child.

I took this picture of my son this morning, after I’d been trying to wake him up for about five minutes with no success.  Yes, he was in my bed.  He didn’t start out there (never does), but most nights that’s where he ends up.  At least, since the divorce, anyway.  Like clockwork, he comes down around 2-3 a.m. and asks to get in bed with me, always saying he had a bad dream.  Fine with me—big ol’ bed, lots of empty space.

Last night’s bad dream?  A vampire was about to bite his neck.  And Mommy was there and she was STUPID, because instead of simply killing the vampire, she went in the kitchen and made him lemonade.  I swear, this was his dream. 

REALLY?  My only son—this child of mine for whom I would absolutely-unflinchingly-without-hesitation lie down on the railroad tracks—this kid was playing out some subconscious sleep concern that I would not protect him when he was being attacked by vampires?  Grrrrrrr.  So I told him that the lemonade was all part of my Master Plan.  A cunning stroke of genius by his brilliant mom, because the lemonade I was making for the vampire was poisoned.  I think he bought it.  Mostly.

ANYHOO, so he was understandably tired this a.m. and as I stood there trying to rouse him from deep slumber, I looked at him.  REALLY looked at him.  The boy has gotten big.  His legs are long and strong.  His face is no longer round.  His torso is lean and muscled.  There are hardly any visible traces of baby left in my boy (mind and heart, yes; body, not so much).  And he’s only FIVE.  How did we get here?

When did he go from this:

To this:

(and that was a year ago!).  When did he change and grow so much?  How has it gone by so fast?

Still, deep breath.  I remind myself that he is ONLY five.  There are years and years and years of growth and change left to occur.  Unbelievable amounts of work still left for me to do.  It takes SO long and SO much energy and SO many resources to raise a child.  Some days … some days, it seems like it will never, ever end. 

Those are the best days of all.

Buddhists Do It Better. February 23, 2010

Yeah, I hope that’s not sacriligeous.  If it is, I hereby apologize and I mean no disrespect.  (But if it isn’t, I think I’d like a t-shirt with that emblazoned across the front.)

I’ve been dipping my big toe into some basic Buddhist philosophy lately.  Don’t anybody panic–I’m well aware of my location smack dab in the middle of the brass buckle of the Bible belt, and I hereby proclaim my status as a lapsed Presbyterian so as not to freak anybody the hell out.

BUT …

Last summer, in the middle of what felt like my world falling apart, I woke up one morning to an email from my good friend Aaron.  It was an email that has made a world of difference in my past 8-9 months.  It said, among other things, ”Pain is inevitable.  Suffering is optional.”

This is a Western paraphrasing of a central Buddhist tenet, and since the first time I read those words, they’ve resonated with me.  Pain is inevitable.  None of us makes it through this life unscathed.  We all face challenges and life, by its very nature, is going to be painful.  Sometimes, very painful.  But how we deal with that pain and what we do when the tough times come make all the difference in whether or not we are happy.  Suffering is optional.

My general understanding is this:  All of it—good, bad, or otherwise—is temporary.  Everything changes.  Nothing stays the same.  When we are in pain or are afraid, our suffering is usually caused more by a worry that we’ll always be in pain or always be afraid rather than being caused by the fact that we are in that state at any given moment.  [Sidenote:  The first time I typed that, I typed "always be alone."  Freudian much?]

On the flip side, however, this necessarily means that joy passes, too.  That makes me feel a little panicky sometimes–I don’t want the good things in life to be transient.  Still, this notion that everything is temporary really rings true with me.  And if it’s true, then it has to be faced and dealt with, regardless of my level of inherent discomfort with it.  EVERYTHING changes.  NOTHING stays the same.

Maybe acknowledging this transience does lead to happiness.  Maybe it forces us to live in the present—to fully experience this particular moment, good or bad, because all moments are fleeting and whatever is happening right now will never happen in exactly the same way again. 

When it hurts?  Force yourself to pay attention to what’s happening, process it the best you can, and try to learn something from it to take forward into the future.  The pain will pass.  And with any luck, you’ll be stronger and wiser because of it. 

When life feels good?   Enjoy it.  Feel the warmth of the sun on your face.  Marvel at how quiet the snow is when it falls.  Hold a hug a moment longer.  Let yourself feel giddy at the sound of your children’s laughter.  These moments won’t last, and neither will the darker ones.

In 1983 when the oh-so-TeenBeat movie “The Outsiders” was released, I was a 12-year-old girl wearing my heart on my sleeve.  (That scene near the end, after the church burns and Johnny’s in bad shape and he tells Ponyboy to “stay gold” and you realize that it’s not going to be a happy ending for everyone?  Knife.In.Chest.)  In thinking lately about change, I realized that the film’s quotation of the gorgeous words of Robert Frost has always stuck with me:

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Who knew Ponyboy was Buddhist?

 

Out of the Mouths of Babes, #2. February 23, 2010

Amelia is OBSESSED with Diego right now.  It’s the first bit of television that has captured her interest, and she’s pretty much all Diego all the time (with a smidge of Dora thrown in).  She wakes up asking to watch Diego and she goes to sleep asking if she can watch Diego tomorrow.  I don’t let her watch every time she asks, but I’ll admit to using the television as a babysitter on occasion.  Sue me.

Each of my kids has had a first television obsession.  As a self-proclaimed TV junkie, I get it.  Television is an escape.  It’s easy.  It’s relaxing.  It’s a way to turn your mind off (and for me, that’s quite often a good thing).  For Owen, it was the Backyardigans.  For Avery, it was The Wiggles.  When Avery was 4, she looked like this:

One day she was watching an episode of The Wiggles that prominently featured Henry the Octopus.

Avery:

I don’t think that’s a real octopus, because if he was real he would be squirting ink on the Wiggles and he wouldn’t be talking like that, so I don’t think he’s a real octopus.

Me: 

I think you’re right.

Avery: 

(Long pause … ) I wonder if the Wiggles know that?

Weekend Wrap-Up. February 21, 2010

Edited to add photos from Friday night.

So much to say, so little time.  A busy, busy weekend, but a happy one.  I experienced lots of little moments this weekend where I thought, “I need to remember this, write it out, make sense of it, figure out what its impact is on my bigger picture.”  Unfortunately, there is still so much left for me to do tonight in order to get ready for the week ahead—parsing everything will have to wait.  Thus, tonight’s post is a simple re-cap of my weekend, and much more for my benefit than for anyone else’s (sorry).  Just notations of things I need to remember…things I will hopefully return to later, at a time when I am able to pull them apart and analzye them with greater care and depth:

Friday Night.  Two high school girlfriends were in from out of town and we used them as an excuse to get a crew of 12 girls together, plus some husbands and kids.  Super casual, SUPER fun.  The kids, ranging in age from 6 months to 10 years, played amazingly well together and generally left the adults alone to talk and laugh and be grown-ups.  My older children played hard all night and developed crushes on the big kids.  My baby girl charmed the pants off of everyone there.  I talked and laughed until my cheeks were sore.  No one wanted to leave and we all stayed up WAY past our bedtimes. 

I realized halfway through the night that the husbands present were terrifically great sports.  They were all there solely on behalf of their wives, yet they were socializing and hanging out and not giving pointed when-the-hell-can-we-leave glances across the room and not looking like they had giant fire pokers up their asses (like my ex always did on the rare occasions I managed to convince him to accompany me to previous such get-togethers).  I’ve been sporadically attending these shindigs with this group for years now, and Friday night was the most fun I’ve ever had.  I didn’t feel guilty about being there and enjoying myself.  I didn’t feel like I had to leave before I was ready.  And I didn’t feel at the end of the night like I owed anyone anything as a giant thank you for letting me enjoy a life that was being lived somewhere other than on my living room sofa.  

Oh, and did I mention the dancing?  With the kids doing air guitar and trying to do the worm and the moms pretending like we were dancing in order to entertain our kids but really just dancing because we were hanging out with people we used to be 16 with and dancing felt good then and dancing feels good now? 

Yep, there was also dancing.  

Saturday.  A friend of mine from law school came up to visit for the day.  This is one of those friends that I do not deserve.  She is kind and she is steadfast and she is always interested (or pretends to be) in everything I say and do.  She is fascinated by my children.  She spent the day with us doing our normal Saturday things.  We had lunch.  We talked.  We took Avery to her first softball practice and sat shivering in the freaking cold-ass wind for almost two hours.  We took the kids for frozen yogurt and I let them put more toppings than yogurt in their cups.  We cooked dinner.  She played air hockey with my children.  We tucked the kids in bed and stayed up talking and playing Words with Friends.  She basically sat in on my normal life for a day, and repeatedly assured me that she was having fun doing it.  She is a better friend than I am, and I am truly grateful to have her.

Sunday.  My ex voluntarily came over to mess with the pool equipment that I have yet to get the hang of since the divorce.  I don’t know if he fixed anything and I’m not any more enlightened about how to take care of the pool, but he offered his help without my asking for it.  There was a brief (very brief) moment where I wondered if we might manage to figure out a way to continue being a family together.  Not in any way we had been in the past, but in some other way that recognized that we shared a history, and that because we have three children together, we share a future as well.  I’m not ready to look at that too closely, and I’m certainly not ready to actually formulate some new relationship with him (not the least reason of which is that I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, and he is way bigger than I am), but there was a moment.  A passing thought.  And the mere fact that my mind could hold that idea for just a moment made me feel hopeful … like we might actually be able to figure it out someday.

And later my parents came over and they played with the kids and my dad fixed a few things around the house and I was once again reminded of how thankful I am for them.  Thankful that they are healthy.  Thankful that they believe in me and have faith in me and are always standing by to help me if I need them.  Thankful that we are friends.

My children were happy this weekend.  My son never once said “I wish you and Daddy didn’t get divorced” (and that might be the first 48-hour stretch we’ve gone since June where that hasn’t been a central topic of conversation at some point).  My daughter tried a new sport, and although she doesn’t usually like things that she can’t already do well, she stepped outside her comfort zone and made me proud.  My baby continued to be the easiest child in the free world, gladly having her schedule monkeyed with, happily being carted all over town at the mercy of our whims, interacting with new people and being her regular smiley entertaining adorable self.  My ex and I were civil to each other, both in front of the children (as we almost always are) and outside of their earshot (which we almost always aren’t), and didn’t run headfirst into any unexpected post-divorce obstacles.

It’s a good jumping-off point for the week to come.

Connections. February 19, 2010

If you’ve been around from the beginning, oh-so-many-7-weeks-ago, you know why I started this blog.  (If you’re new, or simply feeble-minded, here:  http://nowisgoodblog.wordpress.com/2010/01/02/hello-world/ ).  Writing these little posts has become my therapy, my catharsis.  When I’m feeling blue, writing about the blueness makes me feel better.  When I’m feeling hopeful, writing about that positive perspective makes me feel stronger and more ready to face whatever comes next.  That was my plan, and so far the blog is all going very according to.

What I didn’t expect?  The extreme joy and utter satisfaction I’d get from reading people’s comments (or just from realizing that people—other than my mom—were actually reading).  My ego does appreciate a good stroke now and then, apparently.

What else I didn’t expect, but what perhaps has been the coolest development from starting this little outlet of mine?  Tapping into the vast network of fascinating women out there in the blogosphere—women trying to live their lives and raise their children and suffer the inevitable hard times with some grace and some dignity and some (often irreverent) laughter.

Every day, the list of blogs in my “Favorites” grows.  If you have ever left a comment here, I have clicked on your name.  If your name links to a blog, I have spent time reading your posts.  Occasionally, lots and lots of time.  My heart aches at the number of women who have been lied to and cheated on and left.  My soul soars at how many of you have survived the bad times and are now thriving.  And my stomach HURTS because oh my gosh so many of you are absolutely side-splittingly hilarious.

I am slowly gaining enough courage to comment on some of your blogs (although I always feel like the geeky gawky new kid in class when I do so).  I am strangely comforted by this newfound network, and fascinated to watch it grow.  I am grateful for the support of friends, and friends-of-friends, and strangers who come here and read and comment and share.  I am amazed by the connections: by how you came here … by how I got there.  Beautiful stuff, this.

A Moment of Levity. February 18, 2010

Not my best week, as I’ve stated.  Still slogging along.  This, though?  This made me laugh.  Thank you, The Onion, by way of The Divorce Encouragist (http://thedivorceencouragist.wordpress.com/):

Yoga Baby. February 17, 2010

Growing up, I never had much of an understanding of or an appreciation for exercise.  I was an adult before I figured out how to take care of my body (doesn’t mean I always DO it, but at least now I know how).  I talk to my kids a lot about the importance of being healthy.  About the importance of paying attention to the nutrition you put into your body and the exercise you give your body so that you can make yourself the strongest most balanced you you can be.

I know they watch me.  They know Mommy goes for runs, they see Mommy get on the elliptical, they watch Mommy do yoga.  They also know that Mommy loves pizza, chocolate and wine and that Mommy rarely denies herself any of these three basic food groups.  I’m not militant about any of this for myself or for my kids, but it is part of the dialog and hopefully it will help them figure out their own balance in their lives.

This morning, Amelia joined me for my yoga practice.*  She’s 22 months, and I think already does a pretty good upward dog…

downward dog …

moving into triangle pose …

working toward plow …

and a few poses of her own making ….

My yoga baby.

*Perfect case in point on the balance issue:  Amelia is doing a little yoga, but has peanut butter smeared all over her face.

Out of the Mouths of Babes, #1. February 16, 2010

I’m still not quite back on top yet (but getting there), and I really have nothing current or pertinent to say today about anything.  These days happen.  I’ve decided that when they do, I’m going to subject you all to tiny tales from the Way Back Machine.

Amelia’s vocabulary is growing, but she’s still at the naming things stage—her speech patterns haven’t yet progressed enough to provide me with a glimpse into the depths of what is going on inside her head.  My older two kids are mostly past the stage where they say funny things.  And by “funny” I mean those sweet and tender bon mots that are often hilarious in their garbling of an adult phrase, shocking in their revelation of how they are processing the world, or absolutely stunning in their childlike wonder.

I keep a little notebook of these things my children have said.  I didn’t manage to capture all of them, but I collected quite a few and the notebook is one of my most treasured possessions.  Had I not written these things down, I would’ve already forgotten almost all of them.  I was reading through the notebook this morning, and this one made me very happy:

When Owen was 3 1/2, he looked like this:

At breakfast one morning, Owen said, “You’re a very nice Mom to me.”  I responded, “Well, I’m glad you think so.  I love you very much.”  And Owen said, “Know how much I love you?  As much as God loves me.”