The Never Agains

 As I’m lounging in my nightly bubble bath it occurs to me there are quite a few things I’ll never do again in my life. I’ll never have my very first kiss again, never feel those butterflies in my stomach as the handsome young man touches my cheek just before he kisses me and my shirt smells like Ralph Lauren’s Polo for hours after he leaves. I’ll never lose my virginity again and then sit on a porch looking at the night sky, wrapped in a scratchy peach bedspread sharing a clove cigarette with the love of my teenage life.  I’ll never give birth again. No more epidurals or big, post delivery granny panties for me. It makes sense of course, those times in my life have passed but the realization of it is sitting weird with me. Who knows why this hit me tonight besides maybe the water being too hot. Nah that’s not a thing. If your skin isn’t tomato red when you get out did you even take a bath?? But I digress .. back to the never agains. Sounds  like bad 90’s pop band am I right?  Lots of firsts aren’t supposed to be repeated. They’re supposed to become never agains. Like the first time I lost a loved one and had to figure out what to wear to the funeral, what to say at the wake. Or the first time I got pulled over or my first car accident. Some never agains are bittersweet.  I’ll never wear a big, white wedding dress again, standing at the top of an aisle with my Dad waiting for the music to start but I’ll also never have my heart broken again like it was that first time. Nothing ever hurts that bad twice.  Some firsts I’ll never forget like that first kiss or the first time I took a pregnancy test and wasn’t scared of  the results. Some lasts I can’t remember. I can’t remember the last time I went out to play with my friends in the neighborhood. I don’t remember the last time I hugged my grandparents before they each got sick and things changed. I’m probably not supposed to remember those lasts. I do remember the last time I didn’t trust my gut and doubted my instincts when it came to a relationship, I remember the last time I got played. Those are more never agains. I guess what I’ve come to realize as the bubbles all pop and the water turns cold is that it’s ok to have a case of the never agains. It clears space for the firsts that are yet to come. 

Right combination

Fairly certain I just need the right combination of coffee, moisturizer, music and maybe an inspirational movie in the back ground and I can handle anything. I can tackle the pile of paperwork on the desk, I can tackle the after holiday rubble in disarray in the garage and I can even address the ugliness of a dormant, winter yard in SoCal. What I can’t ever seem to fully conquer is my heart. My silly, romantic, idealistic heart. I haven’t found the correct combination of anything that can help me tackle that. It rules me more than my brain most days. If you asked me if I was “into” hearts I would have said no and then I noticed I have 6 hearts tattooed on my body. I have about 10 Christmas ornaments with hearts on them. I love hearts including my own. It’s been broken, tossed aside, ignored. underestimated, operated on and yet it still works. It pumps the blood and holds all the most important memories. So I’ve asked my heart what the right combination is and here’s what it told me-it requires respect, humor, reciprocal effort, honesty, fiber. lots of hugs from my kids, Sunday dinners with family a bit of exercise and as much music and inspirational movies as I can absorb. This is what’s needed to keep it in good working order. I doubt I’ll ever be able to reign in the idealism or the hopeless romanticism. Maybe it’s not supposed to be reigned in. For today I’ll just catch up on some movies, put a moisturizing mask on my face, handle that paperwork and order some Metamucil. Good working order indeed. 

The Waiting Room

Ahhh the waiting room. We’ve all been there ... The chairs suck, there’s no snacks and it’s always the opposite temperature from what you want. You can smell the despair around you. Anxious energy abounds. You could be waiting forever it seems as your left butt cheeks starts to tingle just before it goes to sleep. There’s an old saltine cracker wrapper crunching under the bottom of your foot as you try to stomp your butt cheek back to life. People are starting to stare. Let Em! They have their own wait to suffer though this one is yours. Maybe you’re waiting for a phone call or a visit from a loved one, or a hated one. Maybe you’re waiting for the beginning of that hyped up fresh, new start everyone’s been talking  about. Maybe it’s the end you’re waiting for. The end to grieving, to pain, to self doubt, to the bullshit you’ve been choking on for too long. Maybe you’re just waiting to find out what the fuck it’s all about. Maybe it’s all of the above. Here’s what I’ve learned about the waiting room 1) it’s a great Fugazi song, 2) you’re not allowed to stay there forever there’s simply not enough room for everyone. 3) this too shall pass. Stick with me, I’ve been here before and I found the vending machines last time. I can’t fix it for you or for me but I promise to hold the kidney shaped, pink plastic barf bowl for you if you hold it for me. Together we will make the best of the waiting room.  Now ... do you have quarters? 

Applebee’s

 There’s a movie I love called Couples Retreat my celebrity boyfriend Vince Vaughn stars in it and if you haven’t seen it yet give it a go  if you hate it blame me. I think you might love it like I do. It explains relationships at all stages for me because ultimately it all comes down to who are you going to go to Applebee’s with. Meaning when the steam of  infatuation and lust wear off and if you’re still together then that is when it hits brass tacks. I enjoyed being married. I’m happy in a committed relationship. Im an anomaly in single town these days and that’s ok. Looking at past relationships I think the trick is to be single with the person you’re committed to. Never stop dating each other, learning about each other,  having fun. Share the heavy stuff too like an Ass - meaning donkey. Once you’ve seen the movie it makes more sense. I’ve struggled to find the person who shared my philosophy and since  Vince Vaughn is happily married I guess it’s just my family and friends that I get to be an ass for and that’s good enough. In my friendships and family we get ugly and do the hard stuff when we need to. We cry with each other and support each other’s wins just like the losses. We tell the hard truth and stay. We hold space while the other person figures it out. Why is that so hard to do in a romantic relationship? Why can’t people commit to that relationship like they do to the new iPhone? Ultimately.. I want a man who sees that movie and gets it and I’m willing to wait. The best proposal for this movie nerd would be “would you like to go to Applebee’s with me forever” ? Who are YOU going to go to Applebee’s with! 

Kith and Kin

I woke up late today. The happy oversleep of a good time the day before ... snuggled in a pile of blankets and warm but not just from that; also from (to quote Clark Griswold) “the warmth of kith and kin”. I don’t know what kith is but I’m guessing it has something to do with that feeling you get when you’re surrounded by family. Different generations in one place. Walking from room to room and passing conversations between Aunt and Neice,  cousin to cousin. Out in the yard the next generation,  the great grandkids are jumping in a bounce house while the older great grands are playing giant versions of jenga and connect four. Siblings reconnecting over food and little pockets of family tradition rebuilding themselves all over the house. I’m laying in bed in awe of being a part of the magic, ordinary perfection of the day. Good food and too much, laughing and Christmas music and crazy ornaments all surrounded by the people you love.  The people who collectively make you YOU. I think that’s what Clark Griswold was talking about as he stood frozen with his family staring out at a tree in the snow. I’m going to lay here and enjoy my happiness hangover a bit longer.....

Straycation

For a little over 20 years my family has kept an annual summer trip tradition thanks to my dad and his big sisters family. So many great posts to be shared about the trip in general but today I’ll be specific. Each year I’d pack my kids and all their equipment up and schlep it to the Eastern Sierra’s for two weeks.  Part of my ritual was to walk down to the payphone each night to call the husband back home who could never go because he was working. Twice in twenty years he joined us. Most of the time we fought about how long Id be gone, what was he gonna do for food, what about the laundry? I’d worry about what he was doing without my watchful eye. How far would he stray this year. My kids bathed in the kitchen sink and learned how to bait hooks and clean fish. Their dad learned the boundaries of what would become jokingly referred to later by my friends and I as his “straycation”.  (Spoiler alert .. He did the same stuff he was doing when I was home, just without my prying eyes). I never fully relaxed despite my parents valiant efforts to allow me naps and quiet time. What a shame I could never let go of what wasn’t mine to control to begin with. One year he threw a party for a young neighbors birthday and forgot to turn the spa off afterwards. For a week. That was expensive. I found out later that he regularly hosted parties in my absences or just never came home at all. After my divorce I went back to work and the two week trips were left to just the kids and my parents but we kept the tradition alive. I’d join for a weekend  or longer if I was able. Slowly, I started to relax a little more. No more payphone  calls for bad news. This year, for the first time I have invited a guest. My boyfriend is joining us. He’s flying to California just for the trip. The point in this very abbreviated story is this - the people who want you and your time make it happen. They show up. No prodding or pleading required. No watchful eyes necessary because the words match the deeds. I spent too long trying to put a square peg into a round hole. What a disservice I did to that square peg and to myself. Like the saying goes...if you have to force it- it’s probably shit. Cheers to traditions and the gift of family. Eastern Sierra’s here I come.

Just another,, just another day

On a regular Monday night my life all of sudden shifted, like I could physically feel it. In the past that feeling only ever came after loss or huge change. For example; when i graduated  high school, or when my first grandparent died, or when I realized my marriage was over.  The heavy shift from one reality to another that just occurs with no warning and then BAM your life looks different than the day before. It feels different.  It’s almost tangible and it’s been that kind of week (yes I know it’s only Tuesday). My bonus son slept over and went to breakfast with my little unit minus one yesterday. That night  my two kids who still live with me, along with my daughters boyfriend went to sushi with my boyfriend and I  (my unit minus one). The meal was really good, normal exchange of family type conversations along with some razzing about my son taking his hat off for dinner. I had somewhere I needed to be other than home right after the meal so I left the three of them to ride home with my boyfriend. I got into my car to drive away and had to pull over because right in that moment I realized that I LEFT the three of them to ride home with HIM, like a family. Then it hit me... We are a family. He’s not their dad and he doesn’t try to be, he just loves them where they are. He’s not my husband and I don’t know if he’ll ever be but he’s present and he accepts us all for who we are and offers his help if we ask. Like we do for him. Like the best kind of family would do. We are present for each other in all the moments good and bad and last night in my opinion, we became a family. The shift occurred over a mundane task but I didn’t second guess it happening or even have to ask if he minded because I already knew he wouldn’t. That feels like heaven. It’s brand new in my life and probably in theirs too. Cheers to my new little family. My kids are loved.. all of them and so are his. Our blending might look like a crazy afghan to some but to me it’s the most beautiful, ordinary, tapestry. It’s love.