I thought I Knew What To Do

I had it in my head - when I became single, I knew how I was going to handle it. I knew how I was going to keep things simple, easy for my children. I wasn't going to let them get attatched to any man I was seeing. Hell, I wasn't even going to let them know I *was* seeing anyone!

So much for the best laid plans, right?

The last time I was separated my children were toddlers. I had more options about their exposure. Now, they're too smart, and too old, and all my plans are worthless.

I Should Have Been..

I should have been an Italian Grandmother.

Why do I always want to feed people? My mom wasn't the greatest cook. She could cook when she wanted to, she just never wanted to. My grandmother (on my father's side) was a good cook - but she could only make a handful of things. I knew that on every trip, I'd get her chicken salad, her sweet & sour meatballs, and her chicken soup. My grandmother on my mothers side, must not have been much of a cook at all, I can't remember ever eating anything other than breakfast at her apartment.

So, where does my need to cook for other people come in?

As I write this, I've got glazed pecans wrapped up and ready to go, mushroom-pastry puffs cooling down and orange merringue cookies in the oven. This is all to take to a party, where I am a guest.

Tomorrow, I've invited people for dinner - I don't know how many yet are coming, but at this point, there is going to be somewhere between 6 - 9 people for dinner. Only three live here.

I am never more at ease then when I'm cooking, unless it's after the first tase test, and I know that people are enjoying it. I think that's the key, I only like to cook for people who appreciate it. They get nourishment from my food, I get nourishment from their compliments and yummy noises.

Once upon a time, I considered making food my career. I changed my mind when I realized that it took what I loved to do for me, cooking, and turned it into work. Maybe I missed my calling, maybe I could have been the next Gordon Ramsey. Nah... I'll stick with what I do - make people tasty, healthy, meals and snacks.

Maybe one of my kids will pick it up from there... then I can sit back and make yummy noises.

Baby Blue

Today we are having a "party" at the office.

The VP looks like she is going to pop soon, she's carrying her first child. I'm thrilled and happy for her, but yes, a little jealous, too.

I have the two greatest children any mom could hope for. I know that. Does that make me shallow to regret not being able to have any more?

I'm getting divorced from their father, I am not looking to get married again, and I don't even know that I would want any more, but the option to do it has been taken from me, and even now, two years later, it gets to me sometimes.

Being pregnant was the most magical time in my life. I guess it's just hard to really say goodbye to that feeling.

Here's hoping to other magic in my future.

Holidays

It's official. The holidays are almost here. How the hell did that happen?

Next week is Halloween. Next month is Thanksgiving. The month after that is Christmas. Holy shit!

This year the holidays will be a little different for me. This year, T will have the kids on Halloweeen and Thanksgiving, and I will have them on Christmas and New Year's. This is not by any great planning, it just worked out that way, as he has to work on Sunday - Wednesday.

I don't mind being on my own for Thanksgiving - although, I'm not sure I'll manage to stay alone that day. I do, however, feel for the kids - they will be spending Christmas just with me. They have a great big family about an hour away, who will be doing their annual "do" - but they won't be included because their mom won't be invited and their dad will be working. I'm just going to have to find some other way of making it special for them (and no, I don't mean overload on presents - not my style!)

Today marks another kind of celebration - but it's not mine to share. However, to the person involved, know that I will never forget this day, and that I'm so happy you've made it through so far. More to come, I know, but celebrate your successes as they happen.

100th

This is my 100th post on this Blog.

In the big picture, that's not a whole lot. It sure feels that way, though.

100 posts ago, I was living in an unhappy marriage, fat, disatisfied with my life, my home, my job, my marriage, my body, myself.

100 posts ago I was in fear. Fear of living alone, fear of not being alone, fear of ruining my children's lives in exchange for some happiness of my own.

100 posts ago I wasn't sure my mother would survive the year. 100 posts ago I didn't know how my father truly felt about her, or me. 100 posts ago I thought I knew everything there was to know about my family.

100 posts ago, I was depressed, sick, lethargic and tired of all of it.

100 posts ago I was lost.

Thank you to my friends and family for making this journey with me, helping me find my way out of the dark, and helping me to live again. I'll never have the right words to explain what your love and support have meant to me.

Hugs

Is it wrong to get so giddy over a few hugs?

My son has always been a daddy's boy. He and T would always feel closer than he and I. T would play more with him, while I would teach more. T would roughhouse, I would read. T would let him watch television, I'd play boardgames. It always seemed to me that T was the preferred parent, and although I didn't like admitting it, deep down, I was ok with it, because he knew that he was a well loved litle boy.

It seems to me that things have shifted. While he still loves his father a great deal, it seems like things are swinging in another direction. For the last few days, instead of putting up with a kiss or a hug for me - he's asking for his "good night squish". Yesterday, he missed the bus after school and called me to come pick him up. When I called T, to let him know that I was on my way, he didn't know anything about it. I figured that when S called me, and my voicemail picked up, he would have called his daddy. He didn't. He just waited a minute and called me again.

This morning, at the morning drop off, he took his backpack from me, took his dollar for the buck club (before school care) and threw himself into my arms for a hug.

Please understand this isn't a competition - I don't have to be the favored parent - but it is just another sign to me that S and A are adjusted and happy. There's nothing else I want more.

The Journey

I was looking back at the past this weekend, through pictures and blog entries and I truly began to realize how much my life has changed.

Let's step into the Way-Back machine!

Not everyone knows this, but I was married years ago, when I was young and stupid. (As opposed to the less-young and less-stupid that I am now.) Although the marriage was a big mistake, it put me on the path that I'm on now - and in a way, I can't help but wonder what if...

My first husband, M, had quite a temper. Let's just keep it to being married was hazardous to my health, and leave it at that. When I left him, I did so because I realized I would never trust him around children, which I knew I would want. However, I left him when I was living in a state where I knew nobody else. I ran away to New York City, where I stayed on my very patient sister's couch for three months. After that, I moved down to Maryland, where I knew one person. I lived there for six months, then moved back to California.

When I moved back to California, I was a different person. I had proved to myself that I was strong enough to stand on my own. Good thing, too, as a few years later, I found myself moving yet again, to another town where I didn't know anyone, this time in Oregon. A year after that, I was moving again - this time to the Sacramento area in California, where I knew nobody. (These moves were all for my career).

In Sacramento, I dealt with various challenges professionally, and personally, and made it through all of them. Along the way I met, married and had children with T. We moved to Arizona a few years later and well... here I am.

The point of this is that - it took some really tough times to figure out that I could handle them, and now that I'm having some really good ones, I thought it was a good idea to remember that. Right now, I'm happy. I have a job I enjoy, a great relationship with my children, a home I'm proud of, friends I love. I'm sure that tough times are lurking around another corner, but I know now, that I can face them, and that there are bright points just beyond.

Huh, What?

I am so scatter-brained this morning.

Here it is, not even 8:00, and I've already done the following:

1) Nearly forgot my lunch (went back in the house to get it)
2) Couldn't find my keys.
3) Programmed my slow-cooker to make my world-famous chili, but left the house before pressing "start" - drove away. Drove back, because I'm thinking I'd have a contract out on me if I ruined that chili.
4) Forgot my son's hat.
5) Forgot today's date.
6) It's taken me a really long time to even write this so far, because I keep using the wrong words (even this sentence had to be edited twice).

It's going to be a tough day.

F Replacement Therapy

I have figured out the secret.

People do not need sleep or food. All you need is friends, fun, flirting, and french kissing. :)

Apparently...

Being an adult is like being a teenager. Who knew?

Now that I'm back out in the adult world, I feel more like a kid than ever. Late nights, talking, texting, spending hours on the phone - I can't remember when I seemed to need less sleep, and I'm still in a good mood every day. Add the occassional adult evening out, the glass of wine, or Sunday afternoon champagne, and I wonder what I was missing for all that time.

In fact, there was a very telling conversation at my office yesterday. I was in a good mood yesterday morning, but really didn't know why. A few ideas were tossed out as to why I was so happy, but no, I didn't get laid. Finally, one of the ladies I work with made a comment - and hit the nail on the head. She said, "You're having fun, right?"

That's why I was in such a strange mood - there hasn't been much fun in my life for the last several years.

Welcome back, fun, I missed you!

Sports and Men

I like sports. I always have. Once upon a time, I had two male roommates. I thought it was very funny, that on the rare occassions that we would get a Sunday paper, one would go for the comics, one would take the Science section, and I'd grab the sports page.

I'm not fanatical, but I do love to watch sports live. I can take it or leave it on television, usually. I'll have it on, but then I'll be doing other things, too.

It occurred to me last night as I was watching the Diamondbacks lose game one in the series, that I don't enjoy sports as much when I'm not single. Why is that?

I remember when I was first dating, T. He came over one night, and was surprised that I had a boxing match on the TV. However, as the years went by, he was the one camped out in front of the television and I was leaving the room. Why didn't we watch sports together? Why did his desire to watch sports incessantly take mine away? Ah-hah... I think I figured something out... maybe it was the fact that he'd rather watch sports (ANY SPORTS) than spend any time with me. Maybe that's what happens, maybe I resented it so much that I would giveup something I liked doing, just in the hopes of getting attention.

Damn, what am I a child? Oh well, one more lesson learned, right?

For those keeping count

I might have to give back a few credits towards my "super-mom" award.

Somehow, I managed to catch a cold (or a cold managed to catch me), so instead of a nice, healthy home-made dinner, my children were given kid's meals from Burger King. (In my defense, they do get milk instead of soda, and applesauce instead of french fries.) Their dinner was supplemented with a banana, and then dessert (ice cream sandwhich for one, popsicle for the other.)

Then, just to seal the deal, after their very healthy dinner, they were cleaned up, teeth brushed, and into jammies, where, I'm ashamed to say, all three of us sat on the couch for half and hour and watched, of all things, Pokeman. I've never seen a Pokeman show before, and I can't say I understood it. However, for me, I was mostly "watching" with my eyes closed. On one side, I had my sweet little girl, all curled up against me. On the other, my big little man, holding my hand with both of his.

However, just in case you're thinking all my previous hard work was for naught - my daughter asked me this just before bed. "Mom, when can we clean the bathroom again?"

I've still got it... even with a night of mental and culinary garbage.

Does a Manual Come With This?

Ok, as you all well know, I've recently joined the ranks of single-hood again. It's been a long time, and I feel like I don't know what I'm doing.

How long does it take before you see the real person? How long before you start revealing your own quirks and oddities? When is it ok to voice your opinion in your usual way? How long does a gal have to wear make-up? When I shave my legs before a date, does that still mean something? When are you supposed to reveal that you have a proclivity for push-up bras? Is a woman supposed to have condoms? (The last ones I had - expired!)

Well, my dear readers, at least my discomfort and potential humiliation will make for interesting reading material, right?

Which comes first?

In a strange conversation last night, I was accused of giving "management style answers" to direct questions. While I stated, and still maintain that my answers were straight-forward, I wondered for a quite a while... which comes first?

Am I a manager because I have the characteristics to make me a manager, or do I have the characteristics because I've been a manager for so long?

I was given my first management job when I was still in college, and I was managing a group of people in an answering service (little did I know that that was the first step to a long career in technical call-centers, but I digress). At that time, was I already destined to be in management for the rest of my career?

I do know that I tend to manage outside my office, as well. I do use some of the techniques that I've learned over the years in conflict resolution, problem solving, and rational thought.

However, I do believe that I give direct answers to direct questions - at least to the best that I know how to do it. Often times, I'm not avoiding an answer, but my own answers are vague, because I realy don't know!

And, D, I still don't have an answer to that last question of the evening!

I survived!

I made it through my first - first date in well, a very long time.

I did have the advantage of having met him before (let's just say small town and children the same age, and leave it at that). It was a little nerve-wracking - and probably a film director's dream. I was already feeling self-conscious, the last one to arrive, and my dinner companions were nice enough to leave me the spot to sit which - and I'm not being metaphoric here, had a spotlight over it.

It was a little awkward at first, but the conversations eventually warmed up and we were able to relax and enjoy the evening. (I'm thinking the glass of wine didn't hurt at all.)

However, I have to say that I got the biggest laugh of the evening out of my friend, Dina, one of the two behind this whole thing. The check came, and I, as is my wont, attempted to pay for my share. I was refused - and as we went back and forth on the money thing, Dina tells me, "Be a lady and take the money!"

I don't think those words have ever been put together in such a way before.

Names and Titles

A brief IM conversation last night, led me to thinking about names and titles. How many of them I've held over the years. This is what I've got so far:

Daughter, friend, best friend, girlfriend, lover, fiancee, wife, ex-wife, ex-girlfriend, boss, employee, colleague, granddaughter, great-niece, aunt, sister-in-law, step-sister-in-law, sister, Lizabeth, Liz, Lis, Beth, Flopsy (thanks, John), Munchkin, Honey, Hon, Babe, daughter-in-law, step-daughter-in-law, M's wife, T's Wife, two different Mrs. XXX's, Ms. X, Miss X, and then we hit my favorite section, momma, mommy, mom, mother.

Somewhere in there is a definition of who I am. I just need to work on the balance.

Weekend Dichotomy

It was a fantastic weekend. I went to Northern California for a wedding and to catch up with some friends that have sadly fallen away.

I flew from Phoenix to Oakland on Thursday night, and the first thing I was fascinated by was the sky. I grew up in the Bay Area, I was so used to the way the sky was, that I must have never seen it. So I was rather amazed to find that it doesn't get dark in the Bay Area anymore (if it ever did). The combination of fog, smog and city lights, just prevent the sky from ever getting past a muddy brown color.

Where I live now it's "black-dark" (my daughter's words) by 8:30. Unless of course, you count the stars... there weren't any there.

Ok, so sky aside, I had an amazing time. I got to visit with friends, have adult conversations, have adult beverages, partake in adult activities - it was the first time I had travelled on a plane without my children since their conception.

On the flight home, I was feeling really torn. Torn from really enjoying being an unencumbered adult for a few days, and missing my children. I was feeling guilty for having such a good time without them, and perhaps guilty for not missing them enough; for being disappointed that this mini-break had to come to an end and that I would once again be thrown back into the sea of homework, chores, nagging, and putting my wants and needs completely on the back burner.

I'm not a religious person, at all, but whoever created children the way they did knew what they were doing.

As we were reading our homework on Sunday evening. My daughter, A, was reading me her poem book. She read the first poem (my favorite) which says "I am not a crocodile; I am not a bee; I am not a monkey; I am Me!" She showed me the picture of herself she drew with the poem, but she drew herself with long black hair (she's very blond). Her reason? "I wanted to be like you, mommy."

I'm back where I belong.