Love like .....

"In the blink of an eye, just a whisper of smoke, you could lose everything the truth is you never know. So I'll kiss you longer any chance that I get, I'll make the most of the minutes and love with no regret" - these are Meghan Trainors words not mine but brilliant just the same. This song speaks volumes to me. I don't have romantic love in my life right now and that's ok. It's not my time. However I DO have a tremendous number of people I love, related and otherwise. I am sharply aware of the fact that in a split second the ones you love can be removed from you. That last conversation, that last "I love you" is almost never a moment you mark ahead of time. Let that sink in. 

We truly never know when it's coming. 

Maybe I'm mushy because it's one of my favorite couples anniversary today. Maybe it's because the chill in the air and the first day of fall make me think of my favorite romantic movie "Serendipity" or maybe it's just cuz I'm getting soft in my old age. Whatever the reason, if I've ever said I love you through words or actions know that I'm going to "love you like I'm going to lose you, I'm gonna hold you like I'm saying goodbye". Now... Put your phones down and go tell the people that you love most exactly that!!! Happy Tuesday my fellow softies. I love you! 

"Girl"

For 3 weeks the envelope sat there. Sealed within was another envelope that held the sex of my second baby written on a sticky note. I stared at the fireplace mantle every day for 3 weeks until my then husband agreed to finally opening it. "Girl". 4 letters. One word that changed my life forever. I had no idea what to expect. I was only a boy mom up until then. I've learned something new about the world and myself every day since then thanks to my magical middle child. I remember the day she was born and just staring into her big blue eyes feeling certain she knew the secret to everything. When we brought her home from the hospital her big brother would sing the only song he knew "twinkle twinkle little star" if she cried. She'd lay in her crib and silently study her nursery as if she was trying to decide if she'd stay. The infant with the perfect, pouty, rosebud lips and the flippy curls became the toddler who climbed trees with her brother wearing a princess dress and plastic heels who grew into the preteen who never had much of an awkward stage and always knew just what to do with her makeup and now she's a stunning young woman (although I'm sure she'd disagree). She's strong physically and emotionally. Her ego is in check. Her soul is balanced. She's steady, coordinated in every way, sassy as hell and already so much smarter than I was at her age. More self confident and self aware. I made a point to tell her everyday that she was smart AND beautiful because I never wanted her to wonder about either. As a female who lacked confidence I was petrified to even try to raise a daughter. I've since learned that God never gives us more than we can handle and sometimes children teach the grown ups lessons along the way. She routinely makes me laugh so hard I cry. She amazes me with her grace and serious appreciation for sarcasm and good music. She loves shoes her family and her friends with a depth that rivals the Grand Canyon. She's creative and intense. "Girl". 4 letters. One word that made my world a better place forever after. Happy Birthday sweet baby girl. My heart is yours. 

Girlfriends last forever

My coffee mug...sitting on the counter this morning and I read it like it was for the first time. Matter of fact the first time I read it I thought "aww, that's sweet but THIS guy that I have hanging around right now is gonna be the One". Nope. Of course he wasn't (but that's another post). And of course the girlfriend who gave me the mug was there to help me through it. As were a host of others. I have girlfriends that I've known since I was an awkward teenager, ones that have known me since elementary school, known me married, only as a divorced woman and every version of me in between. These women have watched me grow and change. They've been with me while I was ugly on the inside and on the outside. They've noticed details about me that even the most observant male is likely to miss. I'm not saying there's no room in my life for a man. Im not even saying I don't still believe the perfect one for me exists somewhere. I'm just saying that the sentiment of this mug hits me right in the middle of my heart today. Men HAVE gone. Ones I thought I'd never be without. My girlfriends were there for that. They helped me clean up the mess left from over 20 years. They're still helping me. Men have come into my life and my girlfriends were there to dish over details and put up with my "isn't he greats"?  My girlfriends don't care if I "let myself go" or if I like to wear too many concert t-shirts. They don't care if I don't do the laundry. They will gently remind me if my pack rat tendencies get outta control by saying "hey do you REALLY need that .....blah blah". They remind me of who I am when life and pain have caused me to forget. They buy me cheese and bring Guinness to talk about all the reasons that last one wasn't "the One" when it ended. They love me when I ugly cry and when I'm smiling. They love my kids like their own. They tolerate my cats. They show me patience and consideration. Maybe one day another man will come into my life. Maybe not. One thing I knew for sure.... My girlfriends will still be there. 

The last "First" day

Monday 8/10/15. This is the last first day of school my number one son will have. Senior year and the count down to his leaving home begin that day. I have panic attacks if I think about that too long. I still remember his first day of preschool and the preparations it took. I took him to the barber for a haircut - his "handlsome hair" he called it. Just a typical little boy haircut. His wide grin filled with perfect little boy teeth. I remember feeling anticipation the night before that first day too. Here we are 13 years later and it looks a lot different but there's still that tug in my chest. A mixed emotion cocktail minus the cute umbrella. He doesn't need me to buy him a backpack and lunchbox anymore. He doesn't need me to help him lay out his clothes making sure they all match. He doesn't need me to walk him to class or volunteer at his school. He doesn't need me to drop him off or pick him up. There are a great number of things he doesn't need me to do anymore. Which is exactly the way it's supposed to be. So why does it break my heart in half to think about it? The best I can figure is this...in all the years before this moment there were guidelines that I could study and follow for what he would need from me. From "What to expect when you're expecting" to "Have a new kid by Friday". I read every parenting magazine and book I could over the years. This is uncharted territory. I have no idea what besides my unconditional love and support I can offer. There's not a follow up book titled "What to expect when your firstborn moves out and joins the military". There's no word I know for how this feels except OUCH. I was pretty confident back when he was little that I was doing a good job. Writing this I wonder... Have I given him what he needs to survive in this world? Have I given him the tools to live on his own and be ok? To guard his heart and protect the light of that little four year old that I can still see in his eyes every time he smiles? Have I instilled in him all the lessons that I would spend countless hours talking to him about as I rocked him in my arms? Will he remember the lullabies and the love? Will he carry it with him in dark moments? Is the faith I tried to give him strong enough? I know that kids are supposed to grow up and begin their own lives and I know he's not gone yet but I also know that I will jealously guard each moment I have this year and burn it in my memory because it will never be exactly like this again. Like the other night when we went and saw the new Vacation together, just the two of us.  He'll come back to visit I'm sure. But it will never be exactly like this again, with his room across the hall and his shoes all over the floor. With his music pouring too loudly through the walls as he gets ready for his day. So here I am the day before the last first day of school and all he really needed me to do was make sure his gas tank was full and that he had a couple new outfits. He's a good kid.  He'll be a good man. And I'll always be his momma. 

What's on your mind ?

Every time I open Facebook this question awaits me. What's on your mind? Do you really want to know? Maybe. Maybe not. There are, at any given time a hundred different things going on in my mind. How are my kids really doing. What are their inside opinions on the world, their lives, the upcoming school year? How are things going to turn out for them? Have I given them the tools they need? Will I be able to make all the ends meet again this month and still buy school clothes and redecorate my daughters room the way she'd like? Will I be able to finally find a property lawyer before my time runs out? Why are weeds the only things that grow freely? How are my aunts and uncles andcousins  doing and when can I see them all again? Why on earth did that Guy pop up after a year and text me at 11:30? What are his intentions? Will I finish my book this year and be brave enough to try and get it published? Am I going to be single forever? How come that last one, the one I really liked turned out to be such a disappointment? Will it always be that way? How much longer will my Camry hold out? And the big one... Why the hell are addicts so freaking stubborn. That one I might actually know the answer to. I have a lot of conversations in my head. Sometimes I trot em out and run em by someone else. Sometimes they just keep me up at at night. But since Facebook asked...that is what's on my mind. What's on YOUR mind? 

"Life without music ...."

Sitting in between my Dad and Gerry Garcias heavier set twin at the Hollywood Bowl tonight was like being in a time machine. As the first notes of "Black Cow" cruised out over the crowd I was ten years old standing in the hallway in my pajamas, toes stuck to the cold metal threshold between the carpet and the linoleum of the kitchen. Holding my breath so no one would see me, hoping maybe I could catch a glimpse of "grown up time". My mom was having a rare drink..black velvet and 7up in a smoked brown 80's style glass and my dad had THE goblet. It was really just his beer glass but it was amber colored and looked like it belonged to a Knight of the Round Table. They're listening to msuic and talking about life, politics, everything. It wasn't unusual for me to wake up in what I thought was the middle of the night to the sounds of good music and laughter coming from the kitchen. Tonight I looked over and saw my parents smiling like the 30 year olds they were that night in my memory. In my family music is the glue, the equalizer. Even when we were spitting mad at each other, a song could get us talking again or explain how we felt, say sorry or I love you. Walter Becker quoted Nietzsche tonight and I'll quote them both and say "Life without music would be a mistake". 

That one special Sunday

I had huge expectations about Mother's Day for years. My vision for my first one involved flowers, a laser cut wooden "mothers are....." picture frame from Mervyns and a declaration of appreciation from my then husband. What I got was a card in Spanish and a cracked poly-resin picture frame from the Dollar store. From then on it was a crapshoot. Some years he got me nothing since I wasn't his mother. Others he packed the kids up (including one in a stroller) and trekked down to Tiffanys to get me a necklace. 

Why was it such a big deal to me I wonder? Looking back I see I wanted HIM to appreciate the job I was doing. Being a good mom was and is a big deal to me. Well gues what? I am a good mom. Not perfect, but good. Whether he ever said it or not. My own mom - who's damn near perfect, tells me all the time. My girlfriends support and appreciate me. All the wonderful moms in my family tell me. Most importantly my children show me. They appreciate me. They love me. They trust me. They come to me. That's what matters. So many women and a few men have shown me what it means to be a good parent. It doesn't have anything to do with cards or flowers although those are nice. Whatever or whoever you celebrate tomorrow remember...you ARE good enough, right where you are.