Anti -Black Friday

I spent Black Friday in the waiting room of a Ford dealership in Duarte and with the exception of my lunch I spent not a single dollar. Didn't step foot in a single store. I often feel out of sync with my culture because I don't follow what "they" say I should do. In my relationships, my work, my  decision not to shop, lots of things. Friday was no exception. I felt rebellious all day, whether it was opposing "their" expectations or mine. I was working, NOT shopping. I had a real conversation with a friend, not text but voices. I read bound, slick paged magazines, 7 to be exact (rather than a digital version) and I walked to lunch in an unfamiliar town at a nearby Mongolian BBQ joint whose address I had not previously googled. I ate my lunch alone. Walking through town I left my phone in my pocket and paid attention to my surroundings. The lemon and lime trees with branches so heavy with fruit that they were cracking under the weight. The bus stop where the grizzled looking old man didn't ask for money, he just said "good afternoon young lady" and literally tipped his ratty fedora to me. The restaurant managers daughter who sat near me and looked surprised when I absentmindedly sang along to SpongeBob on the TV. When I got back to the waiting room I set aside my usual grumpy response to folks who invade my personal space or talk loudly on their phones in public. Instead, I sat quietly and listened to the beautiful accent the woman was speaking in. I offered the man sitting too close my magazine. I was calm. Maybe it was the nice walk in the sunshine I had just had. Maybe it was leftover Thanksgiving gratitude. Or maybe it was just "Opposite Day". Whatever the reason I had a peaceful, enjoyable anti Black Friday. I hope I get to do it again next year.

What are words for......

I am a writer and my words can be a shield or a weapon. I try to only tell my story and share only my own experiences and opinions. Inevitably other people are a part of that, but I always change the names to protect the innocent, and the guilty for that matter. It is my hope that my experiences can help someone, or make someone laugh. Maybe you'll read this blog and share it with someone else because you think it will help them or make them laugh. Or maybe you are a malicious fool who twists what you read here and uses my words to cause controversy and drama. If that is what you get from my blog then that says more about your character than it does mine. Because this is a public forum I realize that my words are open to interpretation. This is why I choose them carefully. My words and the things I wrote will live on long after I am gone. They are a representation of me and I strive to make them a good one. You as a reader do not have to agree with my words. You do not have to share my words but I would hope that if you do, you would do so with the same integrity used when they were written.

Ramblings of a Mom

With another Mother's Day fast approaching I find myself reflective of all the MD's past.When I was a gangly, little freckle-faced kid I made necklaces out of macaroni painted with tempura paint and strung on scratchy yarn and my mom wore them like they were the Hope Diamond. I made burnt toast and runny eggs and my mom ate it like she was dining at the Ritz. I watched my parents honor their own mothers on Mother's Day and every day in between and as a result my brother and I learned to do the same. My own turn came and my kids made me bouquets of tissue paper flowers that I keep in a Waterford crystal vase. I have some of the same Hope Diamonds that my mom once had and I too have dined at the Ritz (while never leaving my own bed). One year, after my divorce I was working on Mother's Day serving food in a diner to other moms and came home from the shift to a spotlessly clean house, the beaming faces of my kids who made me love note cards by hand and a gift from my own mom who never fails to tell me that she thinks I'm doing a great job or to redirect me whenever the opposite is true. There are days, like yesterday, where all 3 of my kids needed to be in separate places at the same time and the weight and frustration of being a single mom broke me. I yelled and complained and ranted like the over tired, under-caffeinated, newly nicotine free lunatic that I was in that moment. Thank God kids are resilient and hopefully they will forgive me. I hate that I don't get to spend lazy summer vacation days with them like I got to when I was a Stay at Home mom, but I am so grateful that I DID get to do those things with them. I am grateful for the job that allows me to buy the extras. I hate that life has changed so much from what I intended it to be at their baby showers but I am grateful that I get to show them what it looks like to redirect when life throws you a curve ball. I hate that I turn into a crabby ass sometimes, but I am grateful that I get the chance to make amends and show them that growth is what life is all about. I get to watch THEM grow into wonderful people. I tell them I might not always like what you do or say but I will always love you. I mean it. I learn with every new parental trial and joy that they are each walking their own unique path and I'm just kind of a tour-guide that God trusted to walk with them for a time. I love those 3 humans more than I ever thought it was possible to love another person, it's really kind of strange. I love being their mom, more than I love music, books or Chicago. I remember so clearly long days of  rocking and singing, diapering and cleaning and cleaning and stacking and schlepping gear and toys and thinking that I had forever ahead of me. I am crying as I write this because I feel more sharply this year than ever that my days with them are not actually never ending. There will come a time, sooner than I think, when they strike out on their own, like they are supposed to and our relationship will change again. I can only pray that I have given more than I took, built them up enough to withstand the world they will navigate in and not have given them too much fodder for the counselor's couch. I hope that I am hitting more than I miss and that my kids will do the same for their own kids should they decide to take this journey. I thank the Moms in my life that gave me whatever skills I do have and for the God that watches over us all. Be gentle with yourselves. Happy almost Mother's Day everyone. "Behind every great kid is a mom whose pretty sure she's screwing it up" - Pinterest Quote.

March 17th

This has always been one of my favorite holidays, I love everything about the day except for the stereotypes. People of Irish ancestry do have a penchant and unusual tolerance for alcohol, it's true. That doesn't mean we all get tossed on St. Patrick's day...quite frankly we could do that any day we chose. We also have a knack for storytelling...the Craic as it's referred to in Gaelic. Irish monks kept the written word alive during the dark ages as a matter of fact. Irish Americans can count among our ranks many distinguished contributors to American structure and culture including 6 members of the Constitutional Congress, 8 signers of the Declaration of Independence, 21 Presidents and 9 Supreme Court Justices. We claim Walt Disney, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Edgar Allen Poe, Georgia O'Keefe,  Bill Murray, Dennis Leary, Judy Garland and Bing Crosby and 9 inductees to the Baseball Hall of Fame to name a few cultural icons. Countless, nameless immigrants over the last 150 years built the roads, canals, bridges and railroads we still travel on. We nannied the children, staffed the hotels and cleaned the homes of the elite of society. We became policemen (prompting the nickname coppers) and firemen and we suffered discrimination. During the 19th century there were signs posted stating "no dogs and no Irish" throughout many communities. We have a unique relationship with Death as loss is woven into the fiber of our DNA but we survive. Famine, coffin ships, indentured servitude, war and disease can't remove us from this Earth. We have as our symbol the Claddagh which signifies friendship, love and loyalty. Loyalty being one of our most outstanding traits and we are fiercely proud of where we come from because if you're lucky enough to Irish then you're lucky enough. We love our families, and protect our kin with iron clad tenacity.  I have special reason to love the holiday more because not only am I of Irish descent but it's also the day my first child, a son, was born.  Today is the day I became a mother, an Irish one no less. This means I yell, I laugh, I worry, I guard what's mine and work hard every day to give my children better than what I had. Not so different than any other group you might say. True I say...but people of Irish heritage do it with a charm and flair all our own. There's a reason the world want's to be Irish for a day and it isn't just for green beer. We invite you to celebrate with us on the 17th of March but please leave your drunken leprechauns at home.

Friday the 14Th

I grew up in a time before being politically correct was the norm. We didn't get trophies just for showing up and come Valentines day our teachers didn't require that every non-Jehovah's witness in class get a valentine. We spent a day or two elaborately decorating shoe-boxes with stickers and little lace doilies in anticipation of them being overstuffed with messages of admiration come Valentines Day. That was never my experience. One year in particular the teacher thought it would be a good idea to have each child individually pass out their cards and/or candy. Kid after kid passed me by...and the popular girl next to me with the straight hair and no freckles had so many that she asked me if she could use my box since I wasn't gonna need it. That set the tone folks, every year V-day brought knots to my stomach and being a hopeless romantic even back then, I always thought "this year will be different'. To add insult to injury, my parents didn't celebrate V-day either, they both believed that it's better to show your love EVERY day than to overspend one day a year to make up for the rest. Well yeah, of course it is but when you're 8 you want crappy cards and lots of candy! My Mimi however, loved Valentines day, any excuse to decorate and shower my brother and I with goodies, she was in!  Mimi was my Valentine every year. Without her I might have murdered Cupid years ago. Middle school brought "candy gram" HELL to my world. Just like the empty shoe box of my early years except my lack of "love" was on public display for the whole school to see. Unlike today it wasn't socially acceptable for girls to give each other Candy grams as sign of friendship or solidarity,  although some of my friends and I still did. No, in middle school your worth was measured by how many BOYS sent you Candy grams and how popular those boys were. Mean Girls were alive and well in 1985 and I got a Candy gram that year from the boy I had a crush on and I was overjoyed, validated even. Until I went up to him to say thanks and realized from the chorus of snickers behind me that it wasn't actually from him. I call those girls Satan's Triplets and the Candy gram was joke on me from them. All this being said you'll understand why I'm less than fond of this over commercialized, bullshit holiday. Flash forward 20 years or so and I closed escrow on my first home with my then fiancé on February 14th, the "holiday" was looking up. Soon I  become a mom and having toddlers around makes everything more fun. I turned into my Mimi, any excuse to decorate and spoil my kids. I decided I'd reclaim the holiday and I did. My married Valentines days were a mixed bag. Some great, and some as awful as elementary school. Today, I've been single for 4 V-Day's...but you know what? It doesn't sting like it did when I was 8, or 12 or even 22. It's the day before half price chocolate day which is a MUCH better "holiday" if you ask me. I also have the joy of seeing my son scouring Pinterest for a gift idea for his girlfriend, then making it with his own two hands just like the Valentine cards he'd make me when he was little. He does things like this often for his girl,..,.not just on the day Hallmark says he should. Ya know what that means? That all the pain I suffered was for a purpose. I was able to teach my children to be thoughtful, considerate and a little bit corny. If you find yourself single on Friday, with no cards in your shoe box, don't sweat it.....your life is no worse than it was on Thursday. Cheers to you all...single or not. And yeah..Happy Valentines Day.

Touchdowns and TBI's

Annually an estimated 136,000 to 300,000 high school athletes sustain concussions also know as TBI or traumatic brain injury. My first born son, as of approximately 5:30 last night, has become pat of this statistic. This is his third year playing football. One year of Pop Warner and one year as a Freshman behind him. This year, as a Sophomore on the Junior Varsity team he was given the honor of being asked to "double dress' which means he suits up for Varsity games as well. You can't imagine how proud I was standing next to him on the sidelines after his first game on a Friday night. We posed for pictures, he put his helmet on his little brother's head and I bragged about him on Facebook. I am an extremely proud sports mom. Now I am a scared sports mom. I knew this type of injury was possible, I was aware of the risk but there is a big difference between being aware it can happen and then watching it take place. That's what happened yesterday. My son went out for a pass, straight down the middle of the field and caught it, but not before a player from the opposing team hit him head on, helmet to helmet. As his head was jerking back from that another player hit him square in the chest taking him off his feet and he crashed to the ground. It was the last play of the game and no penalty was called. After a few seconds, he got up and walked to the sideline bench where he sat, waiting to clap hands with the opposing team as they left the field. I picked up my gear and headed for the car. Before I could put the key in the ignition I was called by his coach to come back. My son was laying in the grass under the goal post, he didn't know what day it was and his speech was slurred. He couldn't sit up on his own. His grandpa road the golf cart with him to the locker room while I brought the car around. Then he, his sister and I headed to the ER. CT scans, chest xrays and 1 IV later his results came back clear, He finally started speaking normally about 3 hours after he was hit. Diagnosis - mild concussion. I woke him up every two hours and watched him like a hawk all night per docotr's orders but not much else was said. I took him to see his pediatrician this morning and she disagreed with the severity and has placed him out for the rest of the month at least. She would prefer he stopped playing football altogether which of course he doesn't want to do. My son LOVES football. He loves football the way I love baseball and he has worked very hard to earn his spot. Countless hours of conditioning and practices, he gave up soda and most of his free time. He loves this sport, he's watching ESPN Sportscenter as I'm typing this and the next few weeks will be hell on him. Now I have to balance this one football season against the rest of his life. Do I let him go back on the field after the doctor clears him risking another injury? Do I make him hate me and run the risk of him taking a bad path without football? His dad was injured as a freshman and wasn't able to play. He chalked up his rotten high school career to not being able to play football. Who knows? What I do know is that this injury came at a time when the media, medical community and football itself are looking at TBI's way different than they have in the past. My heart is broken for my sweet, handsome, football loving boy. It would be broken more if he were to re-injure himself or sustain lifelong damage because of high school football. For today, we will follow doctors orders, pray and hope he gets to rejoin his team. Most importantly, I pray he doesn't ever re-injure his brain.

to date or not date....

Today while enjoying a relaxing BBQ with friends the subject of dating came up. I told my girlfriend's husband "You should be glad you're married because dating is a pain"....which of course prompted him to ask "So when are you going to start dating again Melisa"? It's been 3 years since my ex husband moved out, 6 months since the divorce was final. My first instinct was to say "Oh, when pigs fly " but truthfully I had no answer to that question.When AM I going to start dating? I have gone on a handful of dates but nothing more than a few good inside jokes came from all that. By some standards I should already be remarried by now. No thanks. I left all I had on the field the last time. I won't be doing THAT again. A good answer to the dating question would be "On the 10th of never". I've only met one person since I became single that has been able to hold my interest for any length of time but he isn't making himself available in the way I would like. If you've read any of my previous posts you;ll know that what I'm looking for isn't typical. And I want it in a taller than me, attractive, respectable package. Dating isn't as easy in reality as TV makes it seem. I was married for 15 years....all of my friends, with few exceptions are married people, therefore not an abundance of single men floating around. Also, I have 3 very active children and the bottom line is I'd rather hang out with them. Someday they will fly the coop and I may have to get serious about the "When am I going to start dating" question. For now I guess I'll keep hoping one of my friends will set me up with someone worth shaving my legs for.