Take the Good with the Bad: The Listen To Your Mother Show NYC

You've got to take the good with the bad, smile with the sad, love what you've got, and remember what you had. Always forgive, but never forget. Learn from mistakes, but never regret.

- Unknown

I have been living this quote this past week...taking the good with the bad...or perhaps I should say EXPERIENCING the good and the bad. The GOOD: a trip to Manhattan last Tuesday where I stepped inside the beautiful Symphony Space, the site of 2014's Listen To Your Mother Show, which will be taking place just a few days away on May 4th.  (You can buy tickets here: http://bit.ly/ltymnyc2014) Again the GOOD: being surrounded by the warmth and kindness of the immensely talented cast, having their support, making new friends, being appreciated for who I am and the experiences I bring to the table.  Leaving Manhattan, that night, the stories of the cast members and their strong voices swirled around me and resonated in my soul. (I am telling you...come...come and listen to these stories.  They will change you!) Driving the three hours home, I felt light and airy, content and successful...hopeful and so very very grateful.

But then, as life sometimes does, after living the very best of life--taking the good--I was handed the bad, on a silver platter...no, no..silver is too good for the bad I received.  The bad came on a shattered platter where the shards of glass pricked and scratched my skin and impaled my heart.  And while I am not ready to write about the details of the bad, what I was struck with was how quickly all the good disappeared. The good that had filled me to the brim just 24 hours before was gone in an instant. I was enveloped in a shroud of dark as if there was no light, as if someone had extinguished it all, licking his thumb and first finger to snuff out each brightly burning candle.  

This "BAD" has shaken me to my core, uprooted all my beliefs and pulled the rug of safety, security and sanity right out from under me.  I'll admit that it has been hard to lift my body from my bed each morning, to put a foot down on the floor, to walk the three steps to the bathroom.  There have been moments throughout the day that tears come unannounced and I choke and sputter and feel like the grip of "BAD" will hold me tight and never leave me.  And perhaps...it won't.  Perhaps, it won't.  

So what does that mean?  What does that mean for me?  If this "BAD" is permanent, if he won't go away, if he won't let "RESOLUTION" come to rescue me, then what am I to do?  Ah...that IS the million dollar question isn't it?  And just today, while I was forcibly fighting the bad to leave my space, my head, my home it occurred to me that the "GOOD" that I had experienced just 24 hours before "BAD" came to visit held the answer to the question, "What do I do now?"

When I think about the Listen To Your Mother cast, when I recite their stories in my head, I realize that they hold the keys...or the weapons...against the BAD.  Each story has a lesson to teach me about life and how to tackle it head on...both the GOOD and the BAD.  Laura's story reminds me to be kind to myself, to remember that just because there's good doesn't mean that the bad won't happen and that at some point, it is fine to accept that both will be here for awhile.  Neil's story of his mother helps me to try and find some GOOD wrapped up in the BAD.  Elise's story prods me to remember that as women we do what we can do with the circumstances that we have chosen, sure in our convictions even if we aren't sure of the outcome.  Thanks to Kizz's sweet story, a snuggle with my big goof of a dog last night brought me comfort and peace while I thought of the wisdom that Nadine's piece offered.  It's entitled,  "A Swift Kick in the Ass"  and perhaps I don't  need to even explain the lesson that her story teaches me.  Doreen's story emphasizes that the unexpected may happen, but after the wounds heal and the hair grows back we are much wiser and no worse for wear.  

These are just some of the beautiful, heart-warming, and hilariously funny stories about motherhood that will be shared on Sunday night.  And although, last Tuesday, I was feeling lucky to be part of such a cast, today...THIS Tuesday, I know that I will be forever grateful for the gifts that each storyteller has given me during a time where life proved that "You must take the good with the bad."

I hope to see some of you at the show!  Believe me EVERY story is...well... better than GOOD!

  

Hindsight's 20/20...and Messy...and Beautiful: A Second Chance at Parenting: My Messy Beautiful

This post is part of  Momastery's Messy Beautiful project.  I am honored to be a part of it, because dear Mudders, it's ALL messy and beautiful.  Isn't it?

I was a horrific parent.  Ok...that seems harsh.  Let me try that again.  I was a self-centered, misguided, terrible parent who did happen to have good intentions but just didn't know how to implement them.  I guess that's more accurate. I mean, I was a screamer and a squeezer (not the good kind either--the one where you're in public and they are doing something you don't want them to do and you can't say anything out loud but you want them to stop so you squeeeeze their little arms and then they just scream or cry or carry on louder...Yeah...THAT kind of squeezer).  Often my shoulders slumped when they walked into the room, their giggling made me anxious, I even called my sons names sometimes--nasty, awful, cutting names--and instead of praising the good, I jumped all over EVERYTHING they did wrong and glowered down upon them with a sermon that they'd eventually tune out, which in turn would cause me to get louder, which in turn would cause them to talk over me or put their fingers in their ears, which in turn would make it so I would simply-go-ballistic--feet stompin' hand slammin' "GOD-WHY-ME--ballistic.  This kind of parenting was also coupled with a fierce drive to make sure (that besides my unpleasantness) my sons never ever experienced anything at all out in the world that would make them feel uncomfortable.  Homework not done?  I'd write a note excusing them.  Forget their band instrument? I'd leave work to bring it to them every single time.  Worried that they might not play enough during Little League?  Let's just have their step father be their coach for every team, every year.

The list goes on and on.  Why?  Why did I think my children shouldn't experience hardship?  It would be easy for me to blame it on mom-guilt.  After all, the kids got the short end of the stick when it came to family; a nutty mom, an every-other-weekend-father-who-wanted-to-be-their-best-friend-"Hey"-let's-watch-rated-R-violent-movies-"cause-your-mom's-rules-suck kind of guy, two sets of grandparents with their own deep issues, and step parents who loved them but...well let's just say neither of them were perfect either.  (After all--what kind of people would marry into THIS mess?) However, if I was being honest...and let's face it, I am...I'd have to say that all that entitlement was because it was easier.  It was so much easier in the moment to appease them.  It was so much easier to give in so I didn't have to hear them yell and carry on, fight and throw themselves around.  (Where DID they learn that THOSE behaviors were acceptable any way?  *Blink Blink*)

I bet that I don't have to tell you the results of all that poor parenting, but just in case you honestly can't imagine, let me illuminate you.  Both children a few years back left the raving lunatic house of their mother for the house of their father; a house with no rules and where anything goes. After that, one son dropped out of school after being caught with drugs, ended up on probation,has failed numerous drug tests and unless something drastic changes, his future doesn't look at all like the ones mommies dream of when they hold those newborn babes in their arms all pink and hopeful.  The other son, I am happy to say is working through his "stuff", but years ago, ended up in places and situations that he never dreamed of either.  His future, back then, looked nothing like he nor I dreamed about.  It was clear that I helped contribute to the downfall of my sons, and if I let myself go back...if I let myself remember all my mistakes, the weight of the guilt sinks me into a dark abyss--black and bleak and painful.

Two decades later, I am not that mother anymore.  Don't get me wrong, I have my moments just like all other moms, but I know better now what works and what doesn't work.  I guess that is one of the good things in having two sons and then two decades later having a daughter. (You heard me...two decades...almost).  I get the benefit of hindsight.  It is hindsight and a brush with death that helped me decide to "get-it-right" this time, and do a whole overhaul on what makes me tick.  I am proud of the mom I am now, but at the same time there are moments--guilt-dripping moments--that almost suffocate me BECAUSE I am a better mom.  

Let me explain.  For every wonderful, happy, appropriate response or moment or gesture that comes from my daughter, there is this deep soulful satisfaction in me that I am finally doing SOMETHING right in this thing called motherhood.  But...but...there is also this feeling, sometimes in the far reaching corners of my mama-mind, sometimes closer still.  This feeling is a mixture of regret and guilt and sadness and responsibility and agony.  It is the feeling that reminds me that I DIDN'T do this kind of parenting with my sons, and perhaps if I had, they'd have an easier road than the ones they are traveling now.  (Ok, who am I kidding?  Not PERHAPS...they'd DEFINITELY have an easier road.)

The thing is, (and it's this way with most mothers,) the KIND of parent I was or I am doesn't change the fact that I love all three of my children...all three.  I love them ferociously, and whether past or present, I raised them with good intentions--GOOD INTENTIONS.  Mamas, isn't that true of all of us?  There isn't a mom on the planet that consciously says to herself, "I think I am going to blow this parenting thing so bad that my kids end up on drugs, have no self esteem, end up in jail, or any other mama-nightmare that might exist."   It's just that as a new mama in my twenties I parented using the model that I knew, and well we now know how that ended up.

So now, after years of work, (and probably years more),...now my daughter reaps the benefit of the massive mistakes that I made with my sons.  They were the guinea pigs of her success and oh how it hurts to admit that...to know that...but at the same time, for her sake, I am grateful for those mistakes.

A few weeks ago, my oldest son was over for dinner.  His 4 year old sister decided to scream and cry and carry on about not liking what was on her plate.  She worked herself up into a frenzy, and while he was sitting at my right, I reached out with my left hand and grabbed hold of my daughter's hand and said, "How can I help you calm down so that you can talk to me about what's bothering you?"  In between sobs she eked out, "I...I...I need a hug!!"

As she climbed up into my lap and I wrapped my arms around her, I could see my son gaze at me from the corner of my eye.  I knew what he was thinking, "When I was little, she would have forced me to eat that.  She would have screamed at me.  She would have sent me to my room without anything to eat."  All of this was the truth.  All of it.

As I whispered to my daughter some solutions to the big bad dinner problem, simultaneously my heart soared for being able to calm and reason  with her so that she saw me as a problem solver, and yet,  ached with the knowledge of the incredulousness and "why not me" feelings that my son was experiencing.

Maya Angelou says, "When you know better, you do better."  This is a mantra that I live by now and so, later that night, after dinner, I did what the old mama would never do, what many mamas that have made mistakes don't do; I said sorry, and I was, I AM...so so sorry.  Sorry for not being able to be the kind of mom I am to his sister, sorry for contributing to a young life that was filled with chaos and sadness, sorry for not figuring it all out sooner so that my sons knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the love that their mama feels for them.

 "I'm a different mama now."  I said shyly, guiltily, proudly.  He nodded, paused...then swallowed. Oh the many tangled ugly thoughts that must have been in that swallow, but I pressed forward.  "I am sorry that I wasn't this kind of mom when you were growing up."  He shrugged his shoulders and fidgeted in his seat and I took that as a sign of discomfort and stopped my apology there.  But as he was leaving a few hours later, I reached up, put my arms around his neck and leaned in for the rarely-allowed-because-I-am-twenty-and-too-cool-for-that-mama-kiss.  Standing there awkwardly I tried again, saying, "Even though I didn't do the best job parenting you as a kid, I can at least do it now.  I love you."

Then, my 6 foot mountain of a son hugged me tight and said, "I love you too, mom."   After the front door closed, the tears flowed and I sat on the couch feeling that mixture of pride and guilt, and sweetness and agony.  My daughter climbed into my lap, wiped my tears and said, "Don't cry mommy.  He'll be back.  He has to come back.  You are his mommy.  We are his family."

And she's right.  We are family.  One messy, beautiful family.

Susie's Lesson

I made a grave mistake waiting for the "right" time to connect with a sister-in-law who was obviously so incredibly special to so many.  

I am suspicious of those that love me.  That is a difficult sentence to write, but early on what I learned about love was that it was conditional, and I had been told by those who were supposed to revere and protect me that I was very very flawed.  Unfortunately, these two erroneous experiences led  me to believe over the years in my deepest core that there had to be something wrong with who I am, what I do, the way I think, the way I look, the choices I make. That core belief, of course, as core beliefs often do, played themselves out in various ways throughout my entire adulthood.  I did not think I was a good human.  I did not think I was worthy of good because of my "badness" and therefore I often sabotaged things that could have been great or wonderful or beneficial because I believed what I was taught--I was less than--less than beautiful--less than dutiful--less than loyal--less than lovable--less than worthy...less than.  Therefore, anyone who loved me; loved me with all its true meaning of acceptance and unconditionality, I was wary of.  After all, what kind of person would love me?  There must be something wrong with THEM too.

The realization of what I believed about myself, and the subsequent discussions of the laws of attraction (you get what you believe, be careful what you wish for and all that jazz) have been worked through over and over with Dr. Speed Dial and I am making progress.  Alas, this week I realized that my progress has not moved fast enough, and because of that--because of my innate suspicion of those that are kind to me--I missed an opportunity to be loved, I missed an opportunity to have a spectacular human being firmly planted into the soil of my life.  I missed it, and I can't get the moment back.  

You see, on Tuesday, one of my sisters-in-law passed away.  She had been sick with cancer for a long while and fought it valiantly with grace and beauty.  My daughter Ila shares a birthday with her aunt, my sister-in-law.  Sue leaves behind a beautiful family; a son, a daughter, three gorgeous grandchildren one of whom is Ila's age.  In fact, her grand daughter and Ila were born weeks apart four years ago. 

Back then, I was very sick and my dear sister-in-law, Susie, made an incredible effort to help.  When she bought things for her sweet grand daughter, she bought the same for Ila.  When it was time for Ila to get her first doll, it was Susie who gave it to her.  On Halloween and other holidays, my sister-in-law loved all over my daughter as if she was her own grand child.  All of this might not sound unusual to some of you, but you see, before the birth of my daughter, I really didn't know my sisters-in-law very well. I am ashamed to say that I still don't.  They were people I would see twice a year during the holidays, because after all, as I told you, it felt very awkward and foreign to be around people who were so completely kind and wonderful.  I didn't truly deserve that did I?  How did I get so lucky?

So for years, I pushed the idea that I might be able to be part of the bosom of this gorgeous family way way way way way out of my consciousness.  This was easy to do because it was coupled by my husband's equally erroneous feelings of not belonging among them as well.  Being the youngest of ten boys (you heard me) his brothers were all grown and gone with their own families when he was young and so the camaraderie of some of his other brothers seemed intangible to him as well.  Therefore, my sister-in-law's kindness was incredibly generous and completely selfless and, well, I did what I usually did when faced with kindness and love, I avoided it, shunned it and made sure that it'd go away thereby confirming what I'd always believed about myself--I was unlovable.  I am absolutely sure that these insecurities makes me seem aloof and haughty and not very nice.  But I assure you that my tendencies to push people away or not even give them a chance comes from a place of pure uncertainty of my worth in the world.  

However, because of the intense work with Dr. Speed Dial and a decision to change what ails me, I have come to realize that I don't do this thing called family well.  I also came to know that I had done that nasty pushing away stuff with Sue. However, in my mind, there was always this thought that now that I was starting to believe in myself a little more that perhaps, perhaps, I could make it right.  I could accept the love and kindness.  I could start over so that she and I, Jeff and Ila could feel like family feels, like Sue had tried to do four years ago.

But now, it's too late.  It's too late. I may have thought about forming a relationship with this loving human.  I may have thought about visiting her, Facebook chatting with her, asking her to watch and mentor Ila every once in awhile, but...I never did.  I never did, and now, I never will.

There's a saying, "In the end we only regret the chances we didn't take, relationships we are afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make."  My sister-in-law's passing makes this message feel urgent to me.  Dear readers, no matter what is in our past, no matter the mistakes, no matter our beliefs, we must never let them interfere with being loved and being accepted. Even more importantly, we must never let all our baggage keep us from loving others.  It is our sacred duty as humans to push past whatever holds us back from having true, real and wonderful connections with humans so that we never regret or cause regret in others.  Even the most jaded humans need to feel loved.  I know most of us would agree that it is the most flawed among us that NEED the most kindness, the most understanding, and the best that humans can give. Why is it then that we don't apply that kind of thinking to ourselves?  Jaded as we are, finding a human who WANTS to love us--flaws and all--is probably just what Dr. Speed Dial would order.

I made a grave mistake waiting for the "right" time to connect with a sister-in-law who was obviously so incredibly special to so many.  But dear Mudders, the only thing that I can do, or you can do when making a mistake is learn from it.  Let our mistakes change us for the better.

And so, that is what I am going to try to do.  As I shed the itchy heavy coat of "I'm bad" and learn instead that I am--what ALL of us are---combinations of our choices, our deeds and most importantly our intentions about ourselves and others, I will turn towards the idea that I am lovable.  I am worthy. We all are, Mudders.  Thanks to my dear sister-in-law, I intend to learn to be a better family member, (if my extended family will still have me). I will choose to receive the kind of love that everyone deserves, and most importantly I will freely give back that love to all who give it to me.

Looking for a book to Read! You Can't Miss This One!

Good Cop, Bad Daughter-A Book By Karen Lynch!

Once in a while every mama in the world feels like she holds the title of “Worst Mom Ever.”  It’s part of our job description to feel guilty about our choices and second guess every decision.  Want to feel better about your parenting skills?  Have I got a book for you!  Karen Lynch’s highly acclaimed memoir, Good Cop, Bad Daughter, recounts her upbringing at the hands of a narcissistic mother and takes us all on her journey of survival where she finds that miraculously her suffering as a young child actually helps prepare her to become one of San Francisco’s first female cops.

When I picked up Karen’s book, I was prepared to read a “Glass Castle-esque” story that told the tale of a poor child who was swept up into the chaos of being raised by a mentally-ill parent.  And while Good Cop, Bad Daughter does read very much like a Jeannette Walls’ classic, what struck me about THIS particular memoir-of-a-mom-gone-wrong is the strength that Karen possessed to not only overcome the pain of her childhood but to use each and every horrible moment as tools which ultimately helped to propel her to become the woman she is today.

Karen writes, “Living with mom had given me insight into the subtlety of non verbal communication.  I’d learned to protect myself by reading mom’s moods and predicting her behavior.  Now I was finding I was good at predicting the behavior of people I encountered on the streets too.”

Good Cop, Bad Daughter is a funny, poignant and gut wrenching story of a child with an unmedicated mentally ill mother who thankfully is able to find acceptance and “family” in the most unlikely of places; the summer of love counter culture of Haight-Ashbury, from men in a men’s club who never wanted her in the first place, and among a few other brave women who dare to try and be the first of their kind in the San Francisco police department. The reader agonizes over the cruelty Karen experiences repeatedly as both a lonely beleaguered child and a female trying to make her way into the all-male world of the San Francisco Police Department.  We wring our hands with worry along side of Karen as she anticipates what disasters may come next from her unpredictable mother, and are tormented when her career and private life dramatically collide.  

Looking for a book about overcoming the odds?  Good Cop, Bad Daughter constantly reminds readers of the amazing resilience of the human spirit.  Karen’s determination to make a life for herself that was different than the one she experienced as a child, her grit, tenacity and her “never give up” attitude remind us all that nothing in life is impossible.  

Human Kind is Alive and Well

I can be a ginormous misanthrope. Like all of us, I have had some crappy experiences with human beings in this world and it can sometimes cloud my judgment of the human race.  I am working on this cynicism, but I will admit, it is an uphill climb.

But not today.  Today the universe clunked me over the head with the idea that human kind was alive and well in this very small town and most likely if it's here, then it must be around the world as well.

Let me give you some background:  I just got a new car.  Now I  am not materialistic in any way shape or form.  Due to circumstances beyond my control, this family of mine has learned to live without.  So, I happily drove a car for over ten years until one day it simply died a natural death of old age and  loyal service.

Getting a new car was stressful to this mother who constantly has numbers flying through her head making sure that she can make ends meet each month.  A car payment was going to ramp up those maniacal thoughts to a frenzy, but it was absolutely necessary and so with the help of my super special in-laws, I purchased a car a few weeks back.   I have to admit that the new-fangledness of this vehicle gave me a warm feeling all over (and it wasn't just because of the special--er um--seat warmers!)

Today, after a snow and ice storm for the ages, I ran out with my daughter to pick up some needed groceries and tooled home.  Driving down a windy road, the car in front of me came to an unexpected stop.  I slammed on my anti-lock brakes but still helplessly careened toward the car that was stopped in the middle of the road trying to take a left turn.  My mind buzzed with the inevitable.  I was going to crash right into the back of it.  Suddenly, I could see two baby car seat tops in the rear window and I knew what I had to do.  I cranked the wheel to the right and instead  of slamming into the car, my car, my beloved new car drove up and over a very tall snowbank coming to a very loud and groaning stop.  (Ok...maybe it was me who groaned....but anyhoo).  I threw it in reverse to no avail.   I was stuck.  Stuck, stuck, stuck.  My four year old was in the back asking nervous questions and my mind was spinning heart in my throat trying to find the right solution that wouldn't cost us money that we didn't have to get the car out of the bank.

That's when it happened.  A truck...a blue truck with those yellow lights on top that flash to indicate that the owner is perhaps a volunteer fireman or something like that, pulled up behind me.  A man named Ed walked up to my window and said, "Let me try and help you."  He climbed up over the bank in just sneakers and jeans and instructed me to put my car in reverse.  He pushed with all his might...but the car didn't move.

He came back to my window and said, "You are really stuck.  Right up over the bank.  It's not going to be easy to get you out."  The cynic in me figured he was giving up and I absentmindedly thanked him and went back to my figuring and numbers and money.  But to my surprise he climbed back up the bank.

Then, a jogger stopped and asked "Ed" if he wanted help.  Ed immediately gave him some instructions and once again told me to put the car in reverse.  They lifted and pushed with all of their might, but still, still I was as stuck as my attitude.  They both walked back to my window and once again "Ed" explained the dilemma and I once again resigned myself to figure out how to take from Peter to pay Paul.

Once again, I was surprised.  Soon a man, in a red SUV came upon my stuck car and the two good Samaritans and inquired if they'd like to use his tow chains!  Both men rejoiced with the gusto of one who actually owned the car and then sent "The Tow Man" to my car to ask permission.  I instantly shouted, "YES!"  (I may have scared him just a bit...) and  back to work the three men went; unraveling chains and hooking hooks, maneuvering the big red SUV behind my car so that it was in a good position to pull me out.  They did it with the joviality that I imagine angels have when doing God's work.  "The Tow Man" came to my window and told me to put my car in neutral and to try and keep my wheels straight.

Then...in the blink of an eye...the red SUV...maybe a Suburban...pulled my car up and over the bank. The scoffer in me immediately retreated and left a very vulnerable grateful optimist in its place. Tears in my eyes, I immediately took off my seat belt to get out of my car to introduce myself to these divine humans and to thank them profusely.  However, by the time I opened my door, the jogger was running down a wooded path, the red SUV was a spec on the horizon and dear sweet "Ed" was honking his horn as he sped by me with a wave and a wink.

I stood in the middle of the road bewildered at the kindness of these men, at their willingness to take a moment out of their own lives to help a perfect stranger, and most of all at the fact that they did it without want of gratitude or laudation.   And so...I wept...right there on that windy road...I wept with big plopping grateful tears unable to hide them as I got back into the car.

My perplexed daughter still sitting happily in her car seat behind me tilted her head and asked, "Why are you crying mommy?  Are those happy tears?  Isn't it wonderful that those humans were so kind?"

"Yes, my love.  Absolutely wonderful."

And so, to the jogger, the tow man with a NY license plate FFV 9546, and to Ed, thank you--for your kindness, for your selflessness, and for teaching this self-professed pessimist a thing or two about the state of human kind.

Midlife Crisis by Suzanne Hooker Patrick

"The rush of panic, as the ringing gets louder, keeps me up at night. This empty nest thing is real, y’all. It’s painful. It’s frightening."

Just let it go to voicemail….

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. That’s all I can hear in my soul. The sound of a phone ringing. It’s a white courtesy telephone. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. It’s getting louder as the days go on. RING. RING. RING. RING. With each moment, with each blink, with each breath, with each ring, comes the reminder that my mid-life crisis is looming, and my empty nest lifestyle is lurking around the corner. RING. RING. RING. RING. Panic is setting in as I scramble to find my identity... to find my purpose… to find my reason for being.

That answer was easy almost 21 years ago, when I had my first baby. You see, all my life, all I ever wanted to be was a mom. Well, to have as much fun as legally possible in life, and to be a mom. Most days those two go hand in hand, and other days, not so much. But that’s not the point. Even though I graduated from college, it wasn’t because I attended in order to define what I should be when I grew up. Honestly, I didn’t really go to college to learn a profession. I went to have as much fun as legally possible. (You may have heard that already?) I went to learn a little, but mainly to enjoy life, and make amazing memories until I married and became a mom.  And I did just that. My plan had worked! My identity was handed to me the day my son was placed in my arms. I loved each and every step of being a mother. (Ok, well, let’s not get carried away… I loved most steps.) I cherished my babies and much like you, they are my heart. My entire life has been devoted to loving, encouraging, teaching, playing, and raising them. You know the drill. My life was complete. And there have been no casualties, so apparently, I don’t totally suck at this parenting thing completely! Go me! I was a mom and I was blessed two times over.

But, in life, there is a season for everything, and all good things must come to an end. Two years ago, my oldest son graduated high school and left for college, leaving a void in my world. Only my ‘baby’, who now has one more year of high school, was left at home. ::gulp:: I forgot the part about when they grow up and leave home no matter how much you promise to make them their favorite chicken enchiladas and bribe them with doing their laundry. Nope. They still leave home. I’m not ok with this.

With that said…. the rush of panic, as the ringing gets louder, keeps me up at night. This empty nest thing is real, y’all. It’s painful. It’s frightening. It’s heartbreaking, and if you aren’t ready, it will sneak up and pounce when you aren’t looking.  I know this because I tried to wear the ‘I’ve got it together … this is just a fact of life chapter’ mask… but no matter how big I cheesily smile like I’m ok, it continues to knock the breath out of me. It shows up in dark circles around my eyes… in my restless nights of sleep… It consumes my deep thoughts… It manifests itself in this mom’s soul... and it aches. Oh, how my soul aches. On the outside, I pretend I’m fooling the world- that I have it all together, but on the inside… I feel like a complete train wreck with a looming deadline. Can you relate? Have you been, or are you currently on this stupid path I’m on? While it’s true misery loves company, I hope you aren’t.

Wait- did you hear that phone ringing just now? It’s just so irritating. I’m pretty sure it’s my midlife crisis on line 1… I’m just gonna let it go to voicemail. I’m not ready to answer. I have things to over analyze. I have decisions to make. I have dreams to pray for. I’m doing these things not because I’m forced to, but because I want to beat this annoying chapter of my life to the punch. Stupid, unwanted, uninvited mid-life crisis with a side of empty nest syndrome. Who ordered this junk anyway? If I have it all figured out before I pick up the nearest white courtesy telephone, then I can continue on and hopefully it will be dead on the other end of the line. The sooner I get a handle on this, the sooner I don’t have to address my looming panic. The more prepared I am when my last child leaves home, the more I’m equipped to tackle my identity and who I want to be when I grow up… and most of all, I can avoid the pain and confusion and loneliness that comes with all of it. You see, parents, I’m not telling you anything that hasn’t been handed down from our ancestors. We’ve all heard the tales. I’ve listened to those who’ve gone before me, and warned about this empty nest thing… I never gave it much thought because it seemed so far off… but then I blinked. Stupid blinking. Your babies will grow up when you blink. So don’t. Listen, when it happens, it feels like a game changer, and I’ve never felt more ill prepared. When we’ve devoted our lives to our children, when our identity has been defined as parent, when we’re only known by our labels of ‘parent, child, spouse, sibling, friend’- we are stripped of truly defining WHO we are. As that dang courtesy telephone continues to ring louder and louder, my challenge for myself, and for all of you on this same journey, is to strip yourself of those labels I mentioned, and find out who YOU are without them… what YOU want out of life for YOU… what passion drives YOU… what speaks to YOUR heart and what sings to YOUR soul… search for the answers that illustrate what YOU were created for… because before long, that phone ringing is going to be for you… will you be prepared to answer? 

#Womensday

You may not know it but today is International Women's Day.  What's that, you ask?  According to it's website it is is a global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future.  If you ask me, this shouldn't just be one day...a celebration of women's achievements... even if it's getting out of bed in the morning and managing to change from one's flannel night gown to sweats, it should be everyday.  I mean let's admit it, women...we do it ALL.  We work.  We cook.  We do laundry and fold and iron.  We vacuum.  We sing lullabies.  We stop our children from having meltdowns over the new Common Core math.  We try and exercise regularly.  We grocery shop and make sure holidays are sparkly and special. We band aid boo boos, teach life lessons and tuck our little ones into bed like experts.   This isn't something that just one woman does.  It is what we ALL do.

And yet...women...not all women...but LOTS of women just can't seem celebrate the successes of others.  It may be just me, (I doubt it) but I could go to bed each night and list at least 10 examples of asshatery (my new favorite word.  Thanks Andrea Lynn and Karen Lynch) foisted on one woman or another by singular or group of other women. They whisper about choices of clothing.  They are sure that one is out to get the other.  They are jealous of the competence of one and angry with the incompetence of another. They gossip about one mother who talks about her child too much and then can't stand it when they think that another mother talks about herself excessively.  

 Why?  Why do females feel a compelling need to fight and be nasty to their female counterparts?  Why?  We should be lauding each other, propping each other up.  We should be a non judgmental ear when it's needed and a wealth of wisdom when advice is requested.  After all, we all know what it's like to be...well...us.  Who better to understand what we go through than another woman?

The idea of loving ALL women is a tough one, merely for the reasons that I laid out above.  But I think that Glennon Melton author of Carry On Warrior says it best when she said,

" Life is too short and too freaking long to spend it with folks who make you feel bad. Sometimes the only way to love folks is from a distance. STILL LOVE THEM- SURE! From far,far away. Love them from a proverbial sunflower field where you are dancing- safe and free."

So, awhile ago I decided to dance in the sunflower field loving all (some from MILES away) but keeping some close by, because really, no matter what, we need each other ladies.  We don't need ALL ladies.  Nope.  But there are certain women who fulfill certain roles that are absolutely necessary for my life..  In fact, I would say that every woman needs to be sure that she has each type of women listed below.  Otherwise, it is my belief, that it would be impossible to continue the rigors of a life as a female.

The Teacher-This woman is typically older than you.  She accepts you for who you are and is willing to pass on the wisdom that she has gained over her long life.  She knows you well, probably better than anyone else in the world.  She is patient with your evolution and is your number one go-to when you need help solving a problem.  For some women, this Teacher is their mother.  But for others who aren't as lucky to have a mom around or one that is wise and accepting, this woman could be a mother-in-law, a mentor or just someone who sees enough value in you to take on this role.  The teacher is essential in our growth as women.  Without them, we'd stay stagnant.  Without them, women may just continue with the mentality of a teenager.  (Shudder!)

The Peer--This woman is someone who works along side of you or has the same career as you.  It is this woman with which we complain about the doldrums and ridiculousness of our job.  The Peer is someone who thinks like you when it comes to the philosophy you have about your field and will readily help you solve or collaborate on a problem or new project.  Most importantly, The Peer will not for one second feel slighted or threatened if you happen to know something that he or she may not know.  The Peer, a good one anyways, knows that all people have strengths and weaknesses and sees intelligence as an asset not a liability.

The Safe Softy--This is a woman or women who are nurturing and loving and sweet and understanding.  They are the ones who we go to when we are broken or devastated.  They are the ones we can sob in front of and know that all they want is to comfort you.  There is no judgment, there is no malice, there is no feeling of shame.  This past week, I had a broken moment and I luckily walked into a room where there were two Safe Softies.  They swooped in, cooed and coddled.  They shushed and held my hand.  They even cried with me.  And although broken, although devastated, there was the warmth that the shelter of these women provided.  This category of women is truly a gift.  If you have a couple of these, feel very very fortunate, and don't forget to thank them as fiercely as you can for their selflessness.  Being vulnerable is risky business.  How wonderful is it if you are blessed with women who welcome that vulnerability? 


The Unconditionals--Moving?  These ladies will be there to help you pack and heft the boxes.  Broke your leg?  Here they come to clean your house.  Need a sitter for a night out?  They will be there for as long as you need them.  Want to learn to scrapbook?  These women will take a class with you or teach you if they happen to know how.  The Unconditionals are those women that we can rely upon for all the little things that we may need to keep our lives running smoothly.  Typically, they aren't even our closest friends, they just know that responding when needed feels wonderful and will always be reciprocated by the receiver. 

And finally...

The Go-To's--Ah yes, The Go-to's.  These are our besties, our female soul mates.  We read the same books, we think the same way, we are happy to learn from them and they are happy to learn from us.  We can disagree and it will be just fine.  Just fine indeed, because our Go-To's know that disagreements don't diminish who you are to them and for them.  Your Go-To's know about your saddest days, your biggest mistakes, your greatest fears, but they also know about your greatest successes, your most outrageous dreams, and what makes you happiest.  They never waiver through the good and bad and listen intently to both.  They cheer us on, kick us in the ass, tell us our outfits are horrible and pick us up when we can't pick ourselves up.  Most importantly, The Go-To's are truly happy when something makes us happy and are truly sad when something isn't going our way.  There are never too many trials or too many tribulations.  When we are with our Go-To's we are most ourselves and never ever feel judged or worry what they are thinking.  Go-to's can live close by or be your constant texting companion.  They are your simpatico in every way, and our lives would be forever changed if we lost them. 


If you are a woman that is lucky enough to have a women in your life that fit these categories, congratulations. However, it is so important to emphasize that even if you just have one or two women in your life, if they fulfill most of the roles above, you are just as fortunate.  I spent my life thinking that I had to please everyone...especially all women.  But I don't.  Neither do you.  Where ever you go, you'll meet women that are vacuous and narrow-minded, judgmental and angry.  We don't have to hate them, but like Glennon Melton says, we can love them from far far away and dance with the women we're close to in that proverbial sun flower field.