Monthly Archives: May 2015

Fair?

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So being optimistic and planning the future full of good times, travel and surrounding yourself with love and happiness with friends and family turns into absolute misery?

Fair???

How’s that fair?

To always play the game of Life fair.

To be honest. 

To be loving and caring. 

And then say “sorry, bud”…game’s over.

Really??? 

That’s it, huh?

No points for never being arrested, or abusive or neglectful?

No sympathy card for standing by the family when things just…well, hit the fan .

No bonus points for optimism?

And I guess. ..”No Get Out Of Jail” cards….

Well, damn it. I AM requesting all of the above. It  is not an option, God.

I am demanding it.

I know you are listening.

Because you have answered my prayers after yet another worrisome mammogram.

So what the heck???

Why in the WORLD are you ignoring this one??

Do you not sense my panicky tone? My desperation?

Where is the fairness,  right now?

Please tell me this.

Cancer. Does. NOT. Play…

FAIR.

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A Few Good Men.

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I don’t usually write two posts in one day, but  I just have to.

There are a few good men in my life. I won’t name any names, but they know who they are. Well, except for my three year old, since he cannot read this yet…but he knows I adore him.

We have faced some serious challenges recently…but none nearly as bad as some of my favorite men…

I love them. They love me…unconditionally. Some may not be blood, but I have grown to realize this does not matter anymore…it is who sticks around, even when things get tough, that matter most.

And they matter…a lot.

It is not my journey or my story to tell for these men, but all I can do is let them know this…

I love them…I really and truly love them with all of my heart.

They watched me grow from a dark and confused young woman, into a frazzled and loving mother and wife.

They have listened to me cry, and fight and whine and suffer.

They have hugged me and loved me even when they thought I was wrong.

There may be distance between us now…but only in miles, not feelings.

I love them with all of my heart for loving me, and my husband and my family unconditionally.

They are good, good solid men.

They have been hurt, but continued to stand tall. They have loved and lost, but still stand strong in their hearts…

I will love these men till the day I die…

My little guy has a handful of amazing role models and some big shoes to fill…but he can do it…

He is learning well.

Fear.

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Fear.

We all have a little of it. Or if you are anything like me, a lot.

I am afraid of everything.  Spiders, flying, heights, death…

Nothing too out of the ordinary in the fear department,  but enough to leave my nerves raw at times.

I get it...when I am outside, that is a spider’s home so they will forever exist…as long as they are outside. I didn’t invite them for a visit or even to dinner…so amscray!

Flying I have been told is safer than driving…not sure I buy that one in this day and age of missing aircrafts and terrorism, but from a safety standpoint,  fine. And associating turbulence with a bumpy road in a car helps calm my nerves…sometimes.

The heights thing…well this one is just plain annoying/gut-wrenching/knee-shaking fear. I’m embarrassed to admit the second floor in the mall terrifies me. My kids are gently warned to stay away from the railing(probably more because if they had a problem over there, I would not be able to help) and just leave Mama be…nonchalantly hugging the windows and walls as we slowly make our way to a destination.

Death.  Well, the other fears just look ridiculous when comparing them to this one.

Death freaks me out more now as a mother and wife than ever before.

I fear getting sick and leaving my children too soon. I fear my husband getting sick and leaving me jobless and with a house full of kids and broken hearts.

I fear accidents that could alter our world in any given moment to any of our loved ones or even myself.

I fear loss...loss of a loved one so dear.

I have lost many loved ones…and it never gets easier. Never.

But losing someone or thinking it could be me or my husband, is just simply unbearable.

My fears, I am learning (even as I write this), are based on lack of control…I don’t know how to fly a plane, or keep bugs away, or stop my head from spinning when I get up too high.

I can conquer them in one way…

Never fly again. Squash every spider that enters my house. Never go to the second floor in the mall again.

I could maybe even conquer my fear of death…do not allow myself to love or get close to anyone, for fear of losing them. To give up on my health and do whatever I want, eat whatever I want and just stop worrying about it all…

Become numb to everything around me.

It is possible…

I may not be a scaredy cat anymore by becoming numb, but I will be all alone…

With lots of memories…

Like the countless times of running scared when seeing a spider in my house and my kids running in circles around me, laughing as I climb up on a sofa to get away from that tiny little bugger…

Or of when I would have to stop and grab onto a wall like Spiderman in the mall as panic sets in (looking like a complete weirdo), glaring at my husband and kids who were trying to be supportive and steer clear of me, but not hiding their giggles as they watch my discreet web-slinging action along the windows of countless storefronts.

Or maybe even forget about all the amazing trips we took together as a family, exploring the world together, or even flying yet again last week (after years of mentally blocking out the possibility of ever flying again) and meeting the most inspiring woman I could ever imagine sitting next to on a plane…

Trying to forget all these strange yet beautiful memories shared with my loved ones…

I could do all of that and let fear control me…and it might actually work…

Or even worse…

Waste more precious time being afraid…

Instead of realizing I should have just lived.

fear

Something About Mary.

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Mary is my middle name. Mary is my Mother’s name. I pray to Mary everyday…even more so when I am worried or afraid. I am not a Holy Roller, but find comfort in praying.

I prayed hard to Mary, and God, and my favorite Angels in Heaven (and pretty much anyone that would listen to me) on Tuesday that we would make it home safely to our children.

Then she appeared.

Mary.

I didn’t know her name. She came up behind us in the security line and made a joke about hoping to not have to run through the airport to catch her plane because the lines were so long.

That was it. We all made it through…then waited. Our flight was delayed. More waiting and more worrying for the big chicken.

Finally the time came to board…here comes my praying again.

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 (Reminding myself to bring the Blessed Mother like this one on my next flight)

My throat gets tight, I get shaky, my head spins…trust me, flying anywhere with me, is no fun. But I so desperately want to see the world.

So I muscle through.

I thought to myself I can do this…knowing how so many people wish they could be traveling…I can do this.

Then it happened… there she was.

The woman behind us in line in security was boarding our plane. We find that to be cool in a strange sort of way, when you see people from your flight or in an airport, at random times in a trip.

And wait…she couldn’t be…she is taking the empty window seat next to me in our row…woah.

That’s weird.

We exchanged pleasantries, my husband, as usual, fell sound asleep in seconds, and I am left alone with my thoughts and prayers and warnings of a bumpy flight…all to myself.

A little while into the flight, I checked my air vent…the nice woman next to me was covering up her chest and said I could use her air vent as well, it was bothering her…she explained she had a port, and it hurt for some reason…

This small comment turned into a funny, emotional, and strange conversation that lasted until we landed…

As we packed up our things,(I was relieved to be home yet thoroughly freaked out), she introduced herself…Mary.

Wow.

I know it is a fairly common name, but as she talked of family, and her illness she was recovering from, and trips she has taken, there was one similarity after another…I had started to think to myself…is she my guardian angel to get me through this flight or something more?

Near the end of our conversation, she was giving me strength to get through some challenges we are facing in our family, and comforting words…then she told me that someone in her church had told her she was like a Prophet of sorts…she was determined to take this trip to go help guide someone who was suffering and needed support…then she looked at me, and said “ya know, I think this kind of happened for a reason too”…I gently touched her arm and said “I think so too”…I then told her why…how each story she told me, was so similar to our life and things that were going on right now, that I felt she could be in it with us…I cannot get into detail of all the little things and big things right now…

But I can say, I am a believer…in Mary.

She may have been just a cancer survivor sitting next to me on the plane with a terrific sense of humor…or she could have been a prophet somehow…or all my praying sent her to sit with me to distract me from all of my fears…

Whatever it was, it worked…I will never forget that flight.

Or Mary.

Anxiety.

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Anxiety.

Do I already have a blog titled this?

I feel like I may…

Or maybe it is because it is a running theme in my life.  Regardless, I am riddled with it this morning.

Anxiety.

I am packing up for five days to go on trip with my husband…alone…without our five kids.

Venting quickly through my blog before my mad dash to get the kiddies off to school, finish my lists, charts, and graphs laid out for my mother and sister and the kids.

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Crossing off every little thing on my lists, and maybe do it again.

Then I stop and wonder how jet-setters like celebrities fly…

Constantly?!

Leaving their families and children behind to bop around the globe daily, like I do around town to the grocery store and dropping kids off at practice or games in my suburban…

I am in awe…I would need large doses of my chill pills on a daily basis to make it anywhere out of state.

I love to travel.

Yet hate flying.

I had no fear as a teenager about traveling. I flew to Austria ALONE when I was seventeen…not even a travel buddy or group tour…I did it. No anxiety. No fear. No nothing.

But for some reason, that thought of that girl I was back then now gives me anxiety as well.

I am a wreck…flying south for five days for some much needed rest and relaxation (and apparently in need of some mental diffusing) but also have a work event to distract me…I do need to go…

I probably have a large ulcer with all this anxiety.

I am a worry wart. I hate this about me, because I truly do know how to have fun.

I will let it go when I get home safely next week and kiss my babies and everyone is happy, healthy and safe…

Don’t know if my husband would appreciate my last comment…I need to let it go…now for him…for us…for me.

We have so much going on right now on the home front, I feel guilt leaving, and anxious to get back…

But all parties agree (I may be seeing their point as I write this), that we need this getaway…badly.  Life has been full lately…lots of good stuff, and then some pretty bad stuff as well…

But there is nothing I can do to make all of it go away.

Except maybe cry…get it out…finish packing…and let it go…

This is dedicated to the army of family we have recruited to help us take this trip…and to those who would help if they could…

Cartwheels.

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Cartwheels.

My eight year old daughter loves to do cartwheels.

I remember loving to do them as well when I was young. We spent countless hours outside riding bikes, making mud pies, doing cartwheels.

My little girl has finally mastered the cartwheel. After years of trying, and falling on her bottom, she can do it with ease…not always gracefully, but with confidence.

On Mother’s Day, I decided to show off to my little girl…and attempt a cartwheel…I have not stood in position to do this in probably thirty years…I was excited…adrenaline pumping!

I did it!

And then did it again!

With my new found healthy outlook, I thought it was something I could do again…or not.

I pulled something in the back of my leg and I am still feeling it today.

I posted something on Facebook about my silly attempt and found words of encouragement…”If a 40 something mom can still do a cartwheel- flip away!!”…  if a woman my age can still do a cartwheel, then that is an accomplishment!

Me being a pessimist, didn’t see it that way…

But things change. I was very wrong. If I can do a cartwheel with my own two legs…If I can be outside in the sunshine and running around with my kids on a beautiful Mother’s Day…If I can break bread with my loved ones and not worry about what I am eating…If I can take the time to sit down and write about trivial things…then I am blessed.

I am lucky to be a Mother…I am fortunate to have found good health again… I am blessed to be able to do a cartwheel.

Many little things and a few BIG things brought me to this moment of clarity…

I take too much for granted.

Even if for just a moment, I can stop and appreciate these little gifts, then it was worth the pulled muscle or indigestion or being frazzled at juggling all the day’s events…

I actually DID a cartwheel again.

Thank you, Marley.

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Coffee.

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Coffee.

Sitting here attempting to enjoy my millionth cup of coffee (since age fourteen), in one of my favorite cheesy mugs… I love collecting mugs now for some strange reason. They remind me of things I guess.  We have a nice set of matching mugs, but I have taken to mugs with pictures on them from our travels, or favorite campground. This is truly the highlight of my morning.

That first sip

God forbid I put too much creamer in it. But it is always fixable.

I never ever get to finish an entire cup of coffee. So these first few sips are like liquid gold to me. Even in the summer when I am broiling.

I am not a Starbucks fan, unless we are on the road ( and sick of having watered down coffee at any given random hotel other than a Marriott) and we are in need of a good strong cup of coffee… I have a special blend at home, to avoid the jitters…and Starbucks always gives me the jitters. So I now stick with decaf when hitting up the rest stop long lines at Starbucks.

Anyway, my husband prefers coffee at home…with me. And I feel the same. It is our ritual in the morning before we do battle with breakfast/lunch, combing out hair, tying shoes, and getting the world in order (at least in our house) by 8 a.m.

My hubby manages to down his coffee each and every day…I am envious of this. Maybe because my hands are busy slopping butter on toast or making sandwiches…but he is a true “enjoy every moment as it happens” kinda guy.

I am not.

I am that frazzled mother who may flip out on occasion in the morning…or any given moment. I feel the chaos running through my veins…if I sneak a sip of my coffee…ahhhh...all is right again in my whacky world.

I have mastered a way to eventually enjoy my coffee…it is now my treat…but this treat also has to sit and wait for me to slow down and drink it.

Iced coffee.

I take that cold sad little cup of coffee that has sat there since six a.m. ( with a few shots to warm it up) and add ICE and a little sweetness!! Voila!  Am I genius or what?!

Not really, but it makes me feel like I didn’t lose this sacred part of my day altogether.

I used to drink tea as well…not a huge tea fan but can tolerate it if I need be (generally when under weather).

When I ask someone if they would like a cup of coffee, and they say no thanks they drink tea, well something triggers in me. It is kind of like a jolt actually. I take immediate offense.

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I am sad for them in some weird way…”oh wow, I am so sorry you have never acquired a love for coffee as much as I have” is what I would like to say to them. I feel like the bond between us has just been frayed…and some of these tea lovers are the closest people to me…I think how nice it would have been to sit on the sofa with a warm cup of freshly brewed joe, and have a nice chat (not that this ever really happens in real life…or at least not in mine) holding our mugs of warmth and goodness.

I guess we could still do this, but I may find myself staring at their mug with slight irritation the whole time…these dear people I love who drink tea do also cradle their tea mugs like I try to do with mine (before it gets to room temp).

There is really no point to this blog today, other than my odd obsession with coffee loving and tea bashing…sounds like I am being judgmental.

Maybe I will stop now before I enrage my loved ones anymore than I already have, and go make an iced coffee…

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It’s about that time now…