Seeing The Light.

After a tough couple of weeks with a ton up’s and down’s, I needed to see the light.

I did it again. I have been told not to. Over and over again, yet I continue I break the rules.

It is so bad for me, but I had to.

The darkness was creeping in, making me crazy.

I couldn’t bare it anymore, and so I just ignored all good judgment…and decided to find the light again.

My mother helped me…she is my accomplice of sorts.

She knew I shouldn’t either, but said I was in serious need of seeing the light…I never listened to mother…until today.

I opened up a can of worms by doing it…I thought wow I am going to pay the price…I usually literally do pay the price, but in the event of trying to save myself some time and money, I opened up that can…or should I say box.

I boxed it. Yep. Good old boxed hair color.

I did it a few months ago, after years of going to a very trusted salon, but ran out of time before my cousin’s wedding…I was not a happy girl. It was awful and I swore every penny I ever spent at the salon was worth it, to not have to make such a terrible mistake again.

And yet again…I let life take over with one thing after another (all very valid reasons as some of my loyal readers will attest to), and bought another…I needed to see the light…badly.

Man oh man, do those roots show…fast.

They bring with them, my dark mood…I do not like being a brunette…or showing that my hair is getting a little gray here and there…I know I should just let it be free to be what it wants, but I just love being blonde…the lightness brightens my mood…

my day.

Because of how moody I felt when I woke up this morning-even on this beautiful sunny day, after dreading another day of darkness taking over- I said no way.

Nope, not doing this for one more day.

Did I save myself some time? Heck no…did I save some money? Heck yeah..

Did it turn out okay after the last fiasco? Thank goodness…yes!

And now my slightly superficial self will take my glowing blonde locks back out into the world without shame, and  go sit out in the sun on this beautiful Spring day, and enjoy yet another day with the light all around me…

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The End.

It shows up at the end of a movie. Or even a book. It happens after enjoying a warm cup of coffee. Or delicious sweet treat.

It happens.

It comes in all shapes and forms.

And then there is the end…

The one people don’t like to talk about. It stirs up emotions stronger than most of us like to ever feel.

It is hard even when it is expected…after a long beautiful life of up’s and down’s, laughter, sadness, joy…

But sometimes I don’t finish that cup of coffee…it sits till it gets cold and I wind up dumping it out and regretting that I didn’t get to finish all of it…that I didn’t allow myself the time to embrace the moment of me and my cup of coffee.

Or even that book that I was so anxious to read…I get distracted and cannot follow all the stuff in between and jump to the end.

I shouldn’t do that.

The “stuff” in between is what creates the end. The building blocks that supports that story.

Or the cup of coffee that sometimes needs to be enjoyed quietly, reflecting on the day ahead and days passed.

Life brings the end too soon all too often.

And sometimes unexpectedly.

We get caught up in the daily grind and forget about all those pages in between. I do it all the time.

My daughter’s teacher died yesterday very unexpectedly.

Our daughter, as well as all of her classmates and school are in absolute shock.

I didn’t know what to say to my child who lay on the floor sobbing. I knew this amazing woman, but only briefly.

She taught agriculture to my child and countless others over her many years as a teacher…

When our daughter came to us last year and said she wanted to take agriculture instead of what she had planned all along to take ( our kids attend a Technical high school where they take regular high school classes along with learning a vocation of their choice), we laughed.

No! Why  are you changing at the last minute? You won’t even help weed our gardens or sit outside…is how the conversation kind of went.

She told us of this teacher and how much she enjoyed the way she taught and loved her students.

We caved.

And ever since the first day of school, my beautiful daughter could not bare to miss the beginning of school when she had this teacher…My daughter, as well as many of her students, were so close with her that they would call and text her…or the teacher would call them if they were sick or out to check in on them. So when the teacher didn’t show up to school yesterday and they all tried to call her and it went to voicemail, they knew something was wrong…so very wrong.

She called them all her “children” and nurtured their souls not only with teaching about how to create life through plants and how to grow beautiful flowers, but through laughter and treats…especially pie.

I believe everything happens for a reason…my daughter was meant to grow to love this teacher and learn from her. This will change our child forever, but she will learn from it and grow.

It is too soon to tell her this…I know that much to be true.

But this woman, it seems to us on the outside looking in, didn’t get a fair shot…didn’t get to finish reading that book or enjoy one more donut with her class, or even sit back and enjoy that last sip of coffee…

Maybe she did…

Maybe she was content with each day she was gifted with her “children” and how they made her laugh and how she got to watch their faces light up in amazement at the beauty of blossoming flowers in Spring can be…

Two Faces.

As I get ready to cast my first stone, many will say I shouldn’t dare say what I am about to say. That I too, have two faces.

We all do.

We have a good face, and a bad face.

The good one is wrinkle free, blemish free and smooth and soft like a baby’s bottom.

The bad face is ugly…oozing zits, lines, scars,  dark circles…you name it, it is there.

I tend to like to think that I could look in a mirror and see the good face…underneath, there are flaws, insecurities,  self-doubt. But confident enough to say that what I am looking at is worth it enough to smile back in the mirror at myself.

I have bad face days too…but not to the extent I am speaking of. The dark circles and lines build up to the surface after too many moments like the one inspiring me right now to write this all down and clear my head.

My head is swirling with the images and emotions of people with these two faces. That are making me feel ugly right now thinking this way. That cause me to be angry, or sad or mad or even jealous.

Horrible childish feelings that make me want to scream or cry…in their faces and beg them to explain why they do the things they do.

To say something so hurtful or jaded and pass judgement on someone and then befriend them…why? Out of pity for them so you mock them behind their backs as well? To not speak or utter a word to someone for ages, and yet constantly creep into their world and stir up these ugly feelings? That is what it is doing and I do not know why I let it in…I just cringe at the thought of how mean some people can knowingly be…sometimes they are even so aware that they are this way, and just don’t care…maybe because they need to have the last laugh? Feel vengeful after feeling tormented their whole lives for not fitting in or knowing how to show their true good face?

It must be easier to reveal their bad face to overcome their own insecurities and darkness inside. Because now as I write this, I am reflecting on more and more moments of people with their bad faces staring at me.

Maybe its me.

I bring out the worst in people? I cause them to dig deep in the darkness and say or do these terrible things?

I think not.

I may be a lot of things, but the one thing I will never  own is someone else’s b.s.

I have enough of my own, thank you.

If someone feels the need to entertain me or build a “friendship” based on these ugly truths/lies/gossip, then they are no friend of mine.

At some point we should all have a comfort level to say how we really feel about someone or something. ..but only if we know that other person really well or “think about what you are going to say before you say it” mommy-ism in the back of our heads making sure we edit our thoughts and feelings before putting them out in the universe.

But sadly, many do not think before they speak…including me. But some things are better left unsaid. And the moments that are gnawing at me now are ones that should have stayed tucked away...forever.

I want to crawl under a rock or run far away from people like these, and cry for them.

I pity them…I know I am not perfect, but I have never recalled a moment where I could show such a wicked ugly face then turn and have my pretty happy face on, ready to put on a good show.

As I get older,  I am thinking maybe I just think too much…or care too much. Even about that person who was judged, who doesn’t want or need me anymore, and maybe even that dark ugly face of the person who always shows me their good face, to then turn their back and a split second later speaks ill of me.

I need to stop.

I have vented before about these trivial things because they truly do bug me. I don’t know why. My husband could care less about them. I don’t think that’s the right answer either though…

We should care how we treat each other and the example we set for our children…karma is a you-know-what so we need to remember our kids are watching and listening to every word we say…and checking our faces that we show them…the good one, or the bad.

Regret.

We all have a few. I may have more than I thought as I ponder this…

We arrived at the college where our oldest plans to go in the fall. It just so happens to be where I briefly attended after high school.

As I entered the building the flashbacks started. Where I would enter the building after taking the train in to the city several times a week. The spot where I would chain smoke cigarettes before being trapped inside all day in classes. The smell of the stairwell…sensory overload.

I screwed up...big time. I left this college really and truly before my journey had ever even begun. I mentally kick myself every time I think about my decision to walk away.

I dreamed BIG. Since I could remember as a little girl,  I had paper and pencil in hand…sketching. Hiding from life in my room or in the car or wherever I was allowed to have paper and pencil at the ready.

My Aunt was visiting my Grandparent’s once at the same time my family was, and she handed me a sketch pad and charcoal pencils…I will never forget that moment…she noticed.  I was talented. I loved everything about art and drawing and anyone who spoke “art” speak.

Which brings me back to college. I have this amazingly gifted Uncle who also noticed my talents. Whenever I was with him, he gave me pointers, lessons and even later in my high school and post high school years, jobs with him in the city or at his company. And he was the one who inspired my sorry excuse for a lazy teenage self, to pursue my dreams. He took me to an open house at this college, from which he was an alumni.  I fell in love immediately.  My dreams were right in front of me…eat, sleep, breath art.

I loved everything about it. My classes, new friends,  being in the city. My creative side was surprising me…bursting with talent I didn’t even know possible.

Then I walked away.

If I say I regret this momumental decision,  that would be saying I regret my life now…my husband, my kids,  my choices.

In a parallel universe that dumb girl went back. She finished school, immersed in all things art.

She wrote thank you letters to that Aunt who noticed…and to the mentor/Uncle who meant so much to her…and still does.

She became who she dreamt of being…but without that husband or those kids.

She is happy in that world of art…

But so is this girl. This girl who made a life out of bad choices, relationships and bad karma. She turned all that bad stuff into something really really good.

She is still creative in a frazzled, mommy sort of way…but all in all, made a different dream come true.

She found a prince charming who built her a castle to protect her and their clan from all that bad stuff. She found happiness and love when even in her darkest days, seemed impossible…

Regrets?

She has none.

When I’m 57…

My baby boy will eighteen.  My oldest will be going on thirty-three.

My oldest randomly text-ed me this unnerving question the other day, as she lay poolside in warm and sunny Florida on Spring Break…while I was here on  the home front, caring for the little ones and managing the house.

“Have you ever thought how old your gonna be when Chance JUST graduates high school?? Not even college yet!”

I gasped when I first read it…

What on Earth was my beautiful, eighteen year old daughter thinking by asking me this question???

I shared the question on Facebook, only because it was so insane at that moment, I needed some motherly backup…reassuring me that yes indeed my kid was rude and inconsiderate.

How are we to send her off to college in a few months and let her live in the city on her own, when she doesn’t even know one of the basic skills of life...think before you speak…or text.

Later that night, I laughed about it.

Not because I thought it was funny, but because I overreacted.

My daughter was starting to ponder life…the big bad world that lies before her. She was genuinely concerned at how old I may be when my youngest is her current age…maybe because she thought I may be crippled or too fragile by then to help him through his senior prom and graduation.

And help pack up his things and ship him off to college fifteen years from now…

Or maybe even whether I may be alive…maybe she hasn’t yet grasped different stages in life and aging, not realizing that 57 is still pretty young in our world.

When she returns from her mini Spring Break in Florida with her Grandparents, I may have to pull her aside and ask her what provoked such a thought.

Until then, I will take this Forty-something old body that is a little sore at the moment, but healing and getting healthier everyday (all due to my new way of eating and lifestyle so I live to be a hundred), and continue folding mountains of laundry, sort through the explosion of summer clothes that my teenage girls dug through for their last-minute getaway, and wait for my husband to come home from yet another trip to give me a “mommy time-out”…

I am told I will miss these crazy days someday, when all the kiddos have moved on to college/jobs/starting their own lives…

I probably will after my 57 year old body locks the front door, takes my bra off through my sleeve, throws it on the ceiling fan, cracks open a chilled bottle of wine and blasts some Duran Duran like the free spirit I once was…

a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far away…

Flattery.

Sitting at an intersection the other day, I noticed it.

The heavy stare. The primitive instinct.  The male bonding.

Thankfully I was not on the receiving end of it.  Otherwise my face would be crimson, and I would probably trip and fall as I ran for the nearest tree to hind behind.

A beautiful woman crosses the street.  Two men sitting inside a cafe at the window, stare her down simultaneously. Not sure if one tapped the other to look up, or they both had an instinctive radar for heels and long hair blowing in the wind.

I sat at the intersection staring at the men…wondering why.

Why do they do this? I know I have stared briefly at a good-looking male from time to time, but look away immediately for fear of him catching me glance at him, so I have kept my stares down to a half of a second.

These men seemed to stare for minutes…pondering something…not sure sure I care to know what…but definitely thinking about something.

It must be some strange form of flattery from men.

If they can find minutes to stare someone down like this, it must mean that this woman is something these men only dream about or just plain old lust.

For some reason,  I cannot get past it feeling invasive or rude. Almost a sort of harassment.

A woman should feel confident and beautiful at all times, not as if she is taking part in creating a scene in guy’s mind of some disturbing fantasy.

I am more of a sincere flattery kind of girl.

A few months ago, my husband’s friend was chatting with us at a restaurant. He then turned to me as we were leaving, and said how he noticed that I had looked very different after losing a lot of weight, and in front of my husband, he told me how he thought I looked great. 

That takes guts. That is a gentleman. He dared to be honest in front my husband and to my face. I was speechless.

Yes, I was slightly embarrassed at someone noticing my transformation, but as we talked about it about it later that night, I realized it was just so sweet.

My husband stood proudly next to me.

I stand taller now, realizing that I should be more confident.

If I was that woman the other day crossing the street, and felt the glare on me, I would shrivel.

It must truly be a primitive instinct for some men…or maybe even all men. I get it.

But if a man wants to win a woman’s heart or make her smile…or just make her day a little brighter, walk over to her, tap her on the shoulder, and tell her this…

“Excuse Miss. But I just wanted to let you know that you look beautiful. That your efforts to leave your home and feel confident and pretty today, have not gone unnoticed. Have a wonderful day”…I truly believe she will be taken aback at first, but then make her smile for the rest of the day as she recalls that moment…and I am pretty sure, the man will too.