On Becoming a Working Mom

After a long period of searching and applying, I finally found a job! Tomorrow I will be completing my second work week and it’s incredible how different my life is from just two weeks ago. To be honest, I was terrified of the transition from stay-at-home mom to working mom. I think it has gone a lot better than anticipated.

The first few days were rough. The kids cried and didn’t want me to leave. I felt like crying myself most of the time. However, by Friday of last week my daughter was already anxious to get rid of me and carry on with her day, yelling at me to: “Get out of the car, Mummy! Go to work!”

I miss the kids. I hate being away from them. Especially since it was never planned for me to go to work full time. But, as you know, sometimes life doesn’t care about what your plans were and things change. Right now, it is important for me to work full time and that is what I have to do.

A lot of mothers have told me that I shouldn’t be sad, that I was so lucky to have been able to stay home for as long as I did. While they are right and I have been incredibly fortunate, I am still entitled to my feelings and I am still allowed to express my sadness at being away from my children. I believe it is always important to acknowledge your emotions and deal with them in the best way possible, no matter what others may think.

Truthfully, being back at work does have its perks. This is the most alone time I have had in over three and a half years! I get to eat by myself, in peace, without little people screaming at me, wanting food off my plate, talking my ear off, etc. It’s incredible- I just sit in silence and eat. After my lunch, I usually go for a nice walk around the beautiful park down the road and it is so soothing to my soul. I get to listen to music all by myself. Or read a book. My breaks are like little vacations.

The park by my office

Suddenly I get to be around people who have nothing to do with my children, who are not even aware of their existence. They don’t see me as the mother of R and E- to them I’m just Vivien. It’s like I’ve been living in an alternate universe and have suddenly arrived back in the real world, where people talk about grown-up things rather than potty training and how to sneak vegetables into your child’s diet.

Of course, there are other things about being back at work that suck. Like having to actually work. And using communal bathrooms. Somehow I had this idea in my head that I would finally get to go to the bathroom in peace, without children commenting on what I’m doing, fighting each other to determine who gets to flush, etc. What I forgot about was that you’re never alone in the bathrooms at work. You’re in a stall next to other women and there is really not much privacy. It doesn’t help that the toilets in our office building creak as if they have reached their maximum weight capacity and are about to rip out of the wall.

I still can’t quite believe it: I’m a working mother now. Going from stay-at-home mom to working mom has been easier than I thought so far, but it still isn't easy. I’ll keep you posted…

I Wanna Quit the Newspaper!

Photo by helloyou, stock.xchng

I generally can’t say ‘no’ to anything. I’ve been really trying to work on it, but I still suck badly. So when someone knocked on our door a few weeks ago and asked if we could please buy a weekend newspaper subscription for eight weeks at an incredibly low price of only $10, which would help him attend college and ultimately lead to a better life, there was no possible way I could refuse.

Fast forward to last week. I receive a letter from the newspaper, including an invoice for the renewal of our subscription. Huh??? I didn’t renew it. I don’t even want the bloody newspaper! After reading the letter carefully, I find fine print that informs me of their convenient automatic renewal service. If we don’t want the paper anymore, all we have to do is call their special cancellation hotline.

Beads of sweat start forming as I panic at the thought of speaking to the cancellation professionals. I immediately start remembering one of my favorite episodes of Friends- The One with the Ballroom Dancing- in which Chandler is trying to quit the gym. I wanna quit the newspaper!!!

I call the number and start speaking to a very friendly woman. When she hears of my wish to cancel the subscription, she sounds terribly upset, as if I have hurt her feelings, and says: “I’m so sorry to hear that! Is there anything we could do to change your mind?” All I can think is I wanna quit the newspaper; I wanna quit the newspaper. “No, thank you, we really don’t read the paper.”

Of course, this woman is a pro. She’s a lioness going straight for my sucker-esque throat: “You know, you could change your subscription to only receive the Sunday paper. That way, you still receive all the wonderful coupons that can save you hundreds of dollars every week.” I wanna quit the newspaper; I wanna quit the newspaper. “No, thank you. Really, we aren’t able to use any of the coupons, so it’s just not worth it.” She gives it her best shot yet: “You know, this is the lowest offer we’ve ever had for our customers and I doubt we’ll have such a great price again. You wouldn’t want to miss such an opportunity.” I’m thinking: She’s right. What an awesome price! And really, I should be reading the paper. I picture myself at an imaginarily quiet house without interruptions in which I leasurely read the whole Sunday paper after having had a nice sleep in. No, wait- that’s not how my life is. Children jump on me and animals want to be fed and the house is a disaster and anyway, the local paper is really not a good publication. I WANNA QUIT THE NEWSPAPER!!! Out loud, I say: “I know it’s a wonderful offer, but it would really be a waste at this time.”

That’s it. She gives up! I’ve done it. I have managed to quit the newspaper. I am so proud of myself for staying strong and following through. That will really come in handy the next time I have to cancel my subscription after not being able to say ‘no’…

A Week Without Facebook

If you know me, then you know that I am a complete and utter Facebook addict. I can’t help myself- I just love reading about others and feeling like I have someone other than my kids to communicate with. The only problem is that my addiction was starting to take on ridiculous proportions and I found myself checking my page every 15 minutes all day long. Not so cool. Especially since the companionship I was looking for was usually nowhere to be found.

Therefore, I bravely decided to go cold-turkey and disable my Facebook account for a week. One week without Facebook. I could have just logged off, but I know I would have cheated and secretly snuck a peek now and again.

It was rough. The first day felt really lonely and I didn’t quite know what to do with myself (sad, huh?) However, the week proved to be extremely productive. Here are some of the things that happened:

·         I got featured on BlogHer. Ok, this is not something I actively did, but it was still cool. And it was also horrible because I REALLY wanted to share the link on Facebook to get some support, but I stayed strong.

·         I looked at my iPhone a lot, wondering what other purposes it might possibly serve.

·         I hung out with my friend and watched Jersey Shore while eating gluten free cookies. It was fantastic!

·         I read half of a very interesting book.

·         I read up on things I have been trying to avoid, such as SEO, etc. and freelance work.

·         I was offered a job on Thursday, then another on Friday, and had to decide between the two. Tomorrow is my first day at my new job. I have to work 40 hours per week and leave the kids at home with daddy. It’s breaking my heart, but until we win the lottery (which is rather unlikely as we do not play) I have to bring in some extra $$$. At least until I start earning the big bucks writing.

·         I went out for a wonderful dinner with my fabulous friend- just the two of us.

·         I talked to almost all of my friends in Europe, which felt great.

·         I took part in the Nurture Photography Fall Challenge.

·         I completed week eight of couch to 5k, which meant walking 5 minutes, then jogging 28 minutes, then walking 5 minutes.

·         I gathered some writing ideas and creative ideas and just overall let my brain do its weird thing.

There you have it. I missed Facebook a lot, but I also feel that being away helped me to refocus and be more creative.

You Don't Have to Harden Your Heart

I am such a softy. I cry watching sad movies, I cry reading sad news, I cry when I hear a sad song. Sometimes I cry when I look at my beautiful children because they make me so happy. I’m also terrible at hiding my feelings. People can read my mood like a book. I don’t carry my heart on my sleeve, I wear it smack in the middle of my face with spotlights illuminating it.

 When my daughter started going to a mother’s morning out program almost two years ago, I couldn’t stand it. I felt guilty and everything about leaving my baby girl with someone else felt wrong. People told me I would have to harden my heart, that having children meant you had to toughen up and not get too soft about them.

I’m so glad I didn’t listen. You can say whatever you want, but I am not going to harden my heart. I am going to continue feeling my feelings without any type of filter. Quite to the contrary, I am hoping in the future to trust my feelings more than I ever have.

Honestly, I think this is one of the world’s biggest problems- the lack of feeling. If we all let ourselves feel the compassion, empathy, and love we have inside of us, how much better life would be for everyone. If we didn’t expect people from childhood on to be able to ‘control’ their emotions, maybe more people would be interested in fixing the problems we have in this world.

I want to yell at people ‘Don’t look away anymore! Acknowledge your feelings and act upon them!’ We should all listen to our hearts more and change the things that make us and others unhappy. Feel your feelings and acknowledge them- we were given our inner voice for a reason.

On Running and Judging

I’ve started running. I saw that everyone was doing the couch to 5K program and I thought it might be a good idea to do it myself. I’m into week six and I love it. Not only do I feel as though I’m getting physically stronger, I also get half an hour to myself in which I can clear my mind.

On some days, like today, I have great moments of clarity. While I was walking and was breathing heavily because I had just stopped running I met someone on the street. Being very self-conscious, I felt as though I needed to justify why I was breathing heavily. I felt like telling that person that I had in fact been running and I wasn’t that terribly out of shape, it just looked like it then.

Suddenly, I had a realization: We encounter so many people in our lives and even though we often only see little snippets of their existence, we pass judgment. We don’t know what has brought a person to that particular point in their lives. We don’t know how hard he/she has worked to achieve what they have at that moment. We don’t know at what point they are in their life's processes.

More importantly, it’s ok to be breathless. We should never feel as though we have to justify who we are.

The Crazy Winking Lady

Winking is an acquired ‘skill’. It’s actually hilarious watching little children try to shut only one eye- it’s hard for them and takes a lot of practice. Here are some questions: Why did humans ever start winking? Is there a certain purpose to the wink?

The reason I ask myself these questions is because I have a winking problem. It’s not that I am unable to wink- I wish that were the case. It’s that I wink uncontrollably when I find myself in socially tense situations.

Let me give you an example. I’m sitting in a room with other job applicants, waiting to be interviewed. You can feel the tension and people are visibly nervous. I feel bad for the others and want to give off reassuring vibes. One of the people smiles at me. Suddenly, it happens: I smile and wink as a gesture of encouragement. I immediately feel like an idiot. Who winks at strangers?!? I start to panic. What if the other person thinks I was hitting on him/her. I try to look in another direction, hiding my flushing cheeks. Why, oh why, did I have to wink?

Another example. We’re having a breastfeeding support meeting. One of the mothers is really upset and I want to make her feel better. Again, I have some sort of anxiety arise within that is urging me to act in some way. As soon as I make eye contact with her, there it is: I do the weird smile/ wink. I immediately feel like an idiot once more. I’m embarrassed and want her to know that I’m a normal person, so I make it a point to speak to her as soon as the meeting is over. Of course, I’m not completely sure what to say to make me look less like a crazy lady and the conversation is just awkward, until the other mother makes up some excuse to leave. She does so quickly.

The worst of the compulsive winking happens in public places. E.g. when I see a homeless person on the subway. I feel sorry for him/ her and wish there was something I could do to help. I’m studying him/ her discreetly, but I get caught looking, so I panic and bam! There’s the wink. Naturally, the homeless person sees this as an invitation to come over and talk to me. For a long time. It’s uncomfortable and awkward and all kinds of levels of strange.

On a happy note, I told my husband I was going to write about this and he has never witnessed it. Naturally, he thinks I’m a bit of a weirdo now (which is probably quite accurate), but I think he still loves me. At least I’ve had lots of subway conversations this way…

My Favorite Place

My favorite place to be has always been the beach. I love everything about it- the smell, the sound, the sand, the waves, the wildlife. If I had a million Dollars (or ten- let’s be real, one million doesn’t really get you all that far…) I would spend my life on the beach.

The ocean has such a soothing effect on me. It makes me feel small, insignificant, but in a good way. As though I am part of bigger whole and my imperfections and mistakes aren’t that big in the grand scheme of things.

The sea is so powerful. It is always moving, always changing, harboring within its depths so many living creatures that we have never even seen before. While it is essential to our survival, it can also kill in an instant with its ferocious waves and hidden currents.

Listening to the waves and the wind is like meditation. I could just sit and watch the ocean for hours without getting bored. A walk on the beach is a priceless way to clear my mind and make me feel at peace.

I am so lucky to be living just a short drive from the beach now. It’s a dream come true for me to be able to hop in the car and drive to a stunning beach whenever I feel like it. The kids are still a little unsure about it, scared of the movement of the water and disapproving of the sand that gets into every crevice. However, I am convinced they’ll come around and look back fondly on a time when they were so fortunate.

The Blog Post I Took Down

I decided to take the blog post I wrote last night off of the blog. I had somehow imagined that speaking openly about a bad time in my life would make me feel better. However, instead, the thought of having everyone know about things that happened to me many years ago that not even my family members know about had me tossing and turning all night with anxiety and guilt. I have no explanation for these feelings, but there they were.

Some skeletons are better left in the closet, it seems. I apologize for any confusion and I thank all of you who commented and sent me messages. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me or see me as a victim. I had some bad things happen to me, but I came out on the other side and though it is part of my past, it is not the person I am today. I am by no means an innocent person- I have done my share of wrongs in the past and have hurt many people.

So forgive me for taking the post down. I am in the process of experimenting with this blog and seeing what I am comfortable exposing. Last night’s story was not something I wanted to continue sharing and I have learned from it. Thank you for understanding!

Confession: I Listen to Inappropriate Music

I love driving. I love listening to music. The ultimate joy for me is driving while listening to good music. This is probably really selfish of me, but I refuse to give this pleasure up. I hardly do anything just for me, so I just can’t let this one go.

And so I’m Rollin’ down the street, smokin’ endo, Sippin’ on gin and juice- Laid back with two kids in the back of my SUV. I actually really don’t care if people find this ridiculous, this is how I roll. R sings along to Hip Hop Hooray and tells me I Need a Dollar. Sometimes this throws me off a little, but then I convince myself that I’m doing her a huge favor by giving her the best musical education possible…

Let’s be honest: I can’t take kiddie bop. It makes me want to stab myself in the ear repeatedly. Since I already have a bit of a road anger problem, music that makes me hate life is just not a good idea. Sometimes, R gets to listen to some Jack Johnson (whom she calls Curious George) but that’s only because I bought that album years ago and it’s pretty good.

Judge all you want- when we’re all in the car together we have a super fun time. A and I don’t mind singing along to Baby Got Back while making whipping motions and dancing around in our seats (ok, maybe that’s just me… But Ross and Rachel did it on Friends, so it must fine) R and E both know that sometimes, you just have to bring Sexy Back.

For those of you who are shocked and horrified, I assure you that I don’t listen to the really inappropriate stuff with the kids. A song like Nine Inch Nails’ Closer (please only read the lyrics if profanity and such don’t make you cry) makes even me a little uncomfortable around young ears. However, overall, I am doing something slightly inappropriate and a lot of you will be shaking your heads at me now. I’m fine with that- after all, nobody’s perfect (or so I tell myself…)


Disclaimer: Contrary to what some people have gathered from this post, I do not literally drive while drinking gin and juice with the kids in the car. It's just the lyrics of an awesome song. Thank you!

The Final Push

Ladies and gentlemen, I am excited! The final week of my husband’s Army career has finally arrived. Tomorrow, A turns in all of his gear. On Wednesday, A has his Final Out, after which he starts his terminal leave. And then that’s it! We’re done! No more working as a soldier.

I am so proud of my husband. He has managed to do this terribly hard job for twenty years and he has done it well. He rarely complains, just does what is demanded of him. I’ve been doing it with him for the past eight years and I know that I could never do the things my husband has done. He is incredible!

As of Wednesday evening, everything will be different for us. After twenty years of having been owned by the US government, my husband will be a free man. For the first time since high school, he will be able to grow his hair out as long as he wants. He will be able to grow a beard and dye it purple, if he wants. There are no more rules, no more restrictions- he can live wherever he wants, work where he wants, do what he wants (within the law, of course…)

This freedom is so exciting and wonderful to me. Endless possibilities! I think A is excited as well, but also a little unsure of how life will go without the protective cloak of the Army around us. I’m not nervous- this is the start of a whole new life and it’s going to be fantastic!

No more calls late at night about soldiers who got arrested/ have been fighting with their spouses/ have been taking drugs, etc. No more getting called in on weekends. No more endless hours of work that nobody even keeps track of because compensation is always the same. No more ruined birthday parties, anniversaries, Christmases. No more 24 hour duties. No more weeks in field exercises. No more fear of deployments or bad assignments.

Liberty!!!

Of course, our life is still going to be unsettled for a few more months. We haven’t sold our house yet. We’re trying to sell at least one of our cars. We haven’t found a new place to live in Florida yet. Or a job/ jobs. There’s going to be a big move with big changes for our little people and animals. It’s going to be a rough time, but also an exciting one.

Either way, it’s going to be OUR time. We call the shots now- we decide where we want to live and how. And that’s why, on Wednesday evening, we will be celebrating. Good riddance, Army!

Nightswimming

I have been struggling a lot with myself lately. I have been questioning myself, my faith, my direction in life. I can’t quite grasp where I’m supposed to go and at the same time I am responsible for two little people who are fully dependent on me. I think it’s probably safe to say that I am all grown up. However, I wasn’t always like that. There was a time when I knew how to live in the moment and I did. Then suddenly, while driving down the road, a song will come on that catapults me back to my old life and reminds me of how I used to be.

It was 1996 or 1997. We had spent the night at our favorite club, dancing the whole night through. That’s the only reason we went there- we never drank, we didn’t socialize much, we just danced. That night, a few people invited us to go swimming after the club closed. I was a little hesitant, but agreed.

The club closed at 3 am. The others had ordered beer at the club, then snuck it out to take it with us. We walked the dark path to the local swimming pool, talking and laughing. When we got to the pool, I had a hard time getting over the fence, but my friends were determined and helped me get to the other side.

We made our way through the grass, the public pool transformed in the light of the moon. There were people everywhere! Lovers under trees, groups of people sitting cross-legged in circles, talking and smoking. We headed straight to the water. It wasn’t as dark as I had hoped after our eyes had gotten used to the night and I worried slightly about getting in the pool. I decided to just go for it, took off all my clothes, and jumped in.

The water was freezing! The water at that pool was always on the chilly side, but it was especially cold without the sun to warm it up. It was glorious! We were splashing and swimming laps and laughing. It was one of the moments when I felt absolutely free. I didn’t care that only one person had brought a towel and we had to communally share it. I didn’t care that what we were doing was illegal. It was one of the happiest times of my life.

We had no agenda, no goals. We lived in the now. We thought that we were invincible. We thought that our ways would never part and that we would always be in each others lives. Life is misleading sometimes.

I am still exactly the same person. I still have the same ideals and hopes and dreams. I know a bit more now than I used to. My hair has some grey in it now. I (unfortunately) don’t go dancing much anymore. But deep down inside, I’m still unchanged. I promise myself that I will make time again to go nightswimming.

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night
I'm not sure all these people understand
It's not like years ago
The fear of getting caught
The recklessness in water
They cannot see me naked
These things they go away
Replaced by every day
R.E.M.- Nightswimming

Diaper Surpises

If you are a regular diaper changer, you have experienced it at least once: the surprise poop. That sneaky little mess in your child’s pants that didn’t even give you a warning.

You decide to change your baby’s diaper because it’s been a few hours. You grab a fresh diaper and one wipe and chase down your running baby, who has no intention of cooperating with you. However, you feel confident because it’s nothing big to change, just a little pee.

You wrestle the baby to the ground and give him something entertaining to keep him still for 30 seconds. You open the diaper and gasp- what is that?!? That wasn’t supposed to be there! There was no smell! This cannot be!

Since you have wrestled your child down in the dining room, you have no access to additional wipes. The clock is ticking- you must act quickly. You utilize the lone wipe as best you can before the child loses interest in the distractive object you gave him. In despair, you ask your preschooler to help- more wipes! A different toy! Anything that will contain the mess!

Of course, the children have no interest in making this easier. In a ninja-type roll, your baby escapes your clutches and waddles off, while your other child has realized that she can destroy the house because you are way too busy dealing with the diaper situation to intervene in any way.

You quickly gather up the diaper off the floor and try to hurry to get additional wipes before the baby sits down anywhere. While you are striding towards the wipes, you see something falling out of the corner of your eye. You have lost some of the diaper contents, which immediately takes priority over all other matters. The escapee must be retrieved at once to avoid it being stepped on, picked up, eaten, or misused in any other fashion.

Trying to keep calm, you clean up the mess from the floor. Armed with more wipes than are now necessary, you find your baby and finish the job. In the kindest of tones, you try to convince your toddler/preschooler that helping mummy is actually a great thing. And you vow to never make the same mistake again- never open a diaper without checking for surprises.

I Don't Have an Accent

First of all, I am so glad to be able to write whatever I want again. I have had almost a brain blockage because all my weird thoughts had no way to come out. Also, I have learned my lesson and won’t be trying to create a blog hop again any time soon, as my attempt was incredibly unsuccessful.

I had a strange realization yesterday: I don’t have a noticeable accent anymore. The problem with that is that I never had a noticeable accent in the first place. I used to have my mother’s Irish accent, the one I grew up with. Then, I hung around with some English people for a while and tried to perfect an English accent. When I was going out with my boyfriend from Donegal, my mother made fun of me for sounding like I was from Donegal myself. Now I sound just like an American- people cannot tell where I’m from.

Most of you might not think of this as a problem. However, consider this: most people who move to another country in which the same language is spoken do not lose their accents. Irish people who move to England or Scotland or Australia or wherever, really, still mostly sound Irish, even after living in another country for decades. Why is it different with me?

I purposely try to perfect other accents because I enjoy it. However, I also like to just fit in, to not necessarily be the odd one out. I guess I have a really strong desire to be accepted and liked. And actually, that is quite pathetic! Now here I am, with an American accent, but actually Irish/German and not fully belonging anywhere.

Which I can in turn project on my whole life- I love harmony and try to have an amicable relationship with everyone I am in contact with. It kills me when someone doesn’t like me, even if I don’t like the person. So ridiculous! Especially considering my radical opinions on certain topics, such as politics.

All my life, I have had strong opinions and always openly expressed them. However, it really bothered me when people judged or disliked me because of these opinions. And so I often felt unhappy because there were people who didn’t like me.

I’m trying to change that. I want to be more like my husband who couldn’t care less about what people think about him- he is what he is, take it or leave it.

Especially when writing this blog I am exposing a lot of myself and my need to please makes me extremely vulnerable. So, I either have to stop blogging and openly expressing my opinions, or I have to learn to be who I am despite what people may think of me.

Time for me to have an accent!

Let's Go Back to the Start

Do you ever feel as though you would like to do certain parts of your life over again? I actually usually don’t. I have made a lot of mistakes in my life, but most of them I have embraced as a part of me. However, there are a few regrets that I have that weigh heavily on me. They sneak up on me when I’m least expecting it and tug at me, trying to pull me down.

I belonged to a group of friends back home that used to hang out together all the time. As the years went on, I separated from them a bit, but they always stayed my friends. One of these friends was a boy named O. He was tall, had longer dark hair, and wore glasses sometimes. He liked to talk a lot. Everyone was slightly envious of him because he had managed to get into a great school, get a really high GPA and continue his education at law school. He liked to sing. He was really great with computers and electronics. He liked getting drunk, but not noticeably more than any of the others. He was intelligent and sometimes a bit of a know-it-all.

One morning in August of 2003 I awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. I had a bad feeling about the call, though I don’t know why. My friend left me a message. She sounded terribly upset, telling me that something was wrong with O. I was so scared to call her back that I got dressed, walked the dog, and didn’t call her back till I was at my parents’ house where I wasn’t alone. My father thought I was being ridiculous. I was told that O had killed himself.

A few days prior he had called me. We chatted for a long time, which was really unusual. We were good friends, but didn’t have the kind of relationship that involved long phone conversations. He was really super nice and sensitive that day. He wanted to know exactly how I was doing and listened to me complain about my life. I had left my then husband over a year prior, but I was still an utter mess. O listened to me patiently and gave me advice, both emotionally and regarding the upcoming divorce. After all, he was almost a lawyer…

After receiving the news, the few pieces that were holding me together fell apart. I remember exactly how devastated I was. I never raised the shutters in my apartment that day. I got extremely drunk.

Our group of friends was left with the question that many people are left with after a suicide: WHY??? However, the pieces came together very quickly for us. O had made his entire life up. It wasn’t true, it wasn’t real. He never graduated high school. The great school he claimed to have graduated from had never had him as a student. There was no law school, none of it was true. In the end, the man without an education or job perspectives had gone bankrupt, was being evicted from his apartment and had no other place to go than suicide.

We were so confused, so upset. Who was this person who had been our childhood friend? Who was this man who had grown up on the same street as the other men in the group? How did he lie like this and why? Unfortunately, almost nine years later, I still don’t have any answers. I still have no idea how nobody ever caught him in one of the lies. How he was able to lead us on for so many years. How, even when he was completely wasted, out of his mind drunk, he didn’t tell a soul.

I was angry. I was so very, very sad. But more than that, I was livid. How could he do this to himself and to us? Over something that was so ridiculous! Nobody cared about his stupid GPA or what school he went to or what his profession was. All he would have had to do was say the word and we would have helped him- we would have given him everything we had if he had just given us the chance. Instead, he saw no other way than to leave the world. What a waste.

His funeral was relatively small. It was so hot- a sweltering day in August. Wearing black was torture. The whole day was torture. His family didn’t have any money, so he was in the plainest coffin there was. Sitting in the funeral hall, I just couldn’t believe that this huge man could fit into that small box. We all cried. We held each other. We sat by the newly covered grave and exchanged stories. We tried to put the confusing puzzle pieces together.

That day I had received the phone call from him was the last day he lived. He called each of us to say good-bye, us having had no idea that that’s what he was doing. That evening, he went down into the basement of his mother’s apartment complex and took as many prescription pills as he could in record time. I believe he took over 100, though I cannot recall the exact number. I do remember how the medical examiner was impressed. O had taken the pills so fast that his body didn’t even attempt to vomit anything up, it just stopped functioning. He was determined and got the job done. He was found a few days later.

Still, I am left with the ‘if’s. What if our phone conversation had gone differently? Was there something- anything- I could have said to change his mind? What if he had trusted me more? If only he had said something or even hinted at something. If only one of us had been more persistent and gone to class with him one day. If only everything had been different.

I am also left with many memories. He gave the biggest hugs, like I imagine a bear would. He used to tell me that I sounded too throaty when I sang (which made me angry, of course) He could be a pain to have around sometimes. He could be so great to have around sometimes. One year he spent Christmas Eve with me and my family. We went to church together, he had dinner at our house. My parents loved him because he was so well mannered and a great conversationalist. Such an intelligent young man.

I used to go to his grave at least once a week. The family couldn’t pay for a tomb stone, so our group of friends got together and bought one. Going there helped me get over the anger, but the sadness and questions remained.

Life is like that. We don’t get to do things over. The day I heard about his death, Coldplay’s song ‘The Scientist’ was playing. It was the perfect song for that day and I played it over and over. Any time it comes on the radio or my iPod the memories all come back. It is his song now. Even after almost nine years, I remember it all as if it were yesterday.

Nobody said it was easy

Oh, it’s such a shame for us to part

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said it would be so hard

I’m going back to the start

Excerpt from ‘The Scientist’ by Coldplay

My 200th Post or What the Hell Am I Doing Here?

Wow! This is the 200^th post I’ve published on here. Over the past 2 ½ years I have had almost 21,000 page views. Unbelievable! I somehow feel as though this post should be something spectacular, something very meaningful. I had fantasies about writing a short story so you guys (I use this term in a unisex kind of way…) could read some of my fiction.

All I can come up with tonight is the question of ‘What the hell am I doing here???’ I love writing, I love my blog, but really, why am I doing this? Writing these posts has exposed so much of myself, leaving me vulnerable. I get criticized frequently. I get misunderstood even more often. And every single time I try to explain myself, to justify what I’ve written. I’ve even alienated people, who have either become annoyed by my posts or angry with me.

Tonight, I’m not sure why I do it. I feel drained by it. I feel as though a lot of people think I’m a joke. Because who writes a blog? Only losers, right? You don’t even get paid!

I used to tell myself that if at least one person’s life is touched by a post I have written that it has been worth doing. I have received a few notes of thanks by people who felt encouraged by my posts. But overall, is it really truly worth it?

The thing is, I’m no expert on any of the subjects I write about (except my life- I’m quite the expert on that…) I have read a lot about parenting and I do it daily, but so do most other parents. People have called me arrogant, full of myself, saying that I think I’ve got it all figured out.

You’re wrong, people! I know nothing. Every day I get up and hope that I can find the energy within me somewhere to do this whole parenting thing over again. One more day, until bed time. And the entire day I’m winging it because my children challenge me all the way. My brain goes into overload thinking about what I ‘know’ in theory vs. what I am actually doing.

Then some days, I have moments of clarity and I feel as though I’ve figured one little minute detail out. And I feel like sharing it with everyone! I tell my husband and he kinda sorta cares, but not really. So I blog about it and hope that my snippets of crazy thoughts make sense to someone and help them make sense of their own craziness.

But when I am by myself, like I am now, it all seems pointless and wasted. I should be cleaning or studying or doing something to make myself look pretty or… Instead, I’m fighting windmills.

In the grand scheme of things, I know nothing. I know what ‘the truth’ is for myself and possibly my close family and that’s as far as it goes. I used to think that I knew a lot, but now I know that I’m just like one of the people who knew that the world was flat.

So forgive me, but I have no answer to the question of what I am doing here. Truth be told, I hardly have any answers at all.

The Annoying Complainer (AKA Me)

I complain a lot. I can’t help it- it’s my coping mechanism. I know it gets on other people’s nerves and quite honestly, it gets on my own. Yet, I have so far been unable to stop myself from doing it. My attention was especially drawn to it when a friend of mine told me that she had given up complaining for lent. It somehow heightened my sensitivity to my own vice.

It’s totally a habit of insecurity for me. When I am able to find negative things to say about certain issues or circumstances, my own shortcomings don’t seem as bad anymore. It is also an issue of caring too much about pretty much everything and the only way I know how to deal with that  is to verbalize negative thoughts. I have noticed that the more comfortable I am around a particular person, the more freely I feel I can complain. Which of course is awful because that makes me be a total downer to the people I love the most.

Thankfully, my husband is able to tune out a lot of my nonsense. He is able to take my comments and turn them into something constructive or just ignore them when there is nothing constructive to be done. He is more of an optimistic opposite of me, which I am very grateful for.

So, I really want to stop the complaining! Not just for the listeners’ sakes, but for my own. I dwell on negative things too much and it isn’t good for me.

Help me out, people: What are your coping strategies when it comes to emotional stress? How do you keep from complaining?

The Brilliancy of Scam Emails

I would like to share with you an email I received recently because 1. I find it hilarious and 2. I want to expose schemes like this so kind, innocent minded people don’t somehow get scammed. The email came from a certain Mark Nelson, email address marknelson2471@aol.com – just in case you feel as though this is a valid employment offer you cannot refuse.

This is the email. There was no greeting:

Got your email through the google employment database.I am looking for someone who can handle my personal and business errands during his or her spare time.I need your service because I am constantly traveling abroad on business. I own an Art Gallery that specializes in international art.

At this point, I am second guessing my sanity and wondering if I ever entered my email address in any databases while I was too tired to know what I was doing. It continues:

Your Responsibilities are.

1. Receive my mail and Drop them off at the post office or shipping center.

2. Pay my bills on my behalf and sit for delivery at home.

3. Pick up my items at your nearby post office at your convenience.

4. When you get my mail or package, you would mail all items to where I want them shipped. .All expenses and shipping charges will be covered by me.

Of course, now I know that it is a scam. However, these shady job responsibilities make me curious as to what compensation will be promised. After all, even if this were a true job offer, the questionable duties sound as though I would be somehow involved in smuggling drugs or worse- might as well get paid handsomely for it. It goes on:

The contents of the packages are mostly art materials and paintings. In addition, there will be clothing I need for business and personal letters. No heavy packages are ever delivered!

Is cocaine heavy? I don’t know… Some more interesting info:

I am currently away on business in China. If you decide to accept the position, please read the employment requirements listed below.

1. Honest and trustworthy citizen.

2. You will be required to work between 15 and 20hrs a month

3 You need to be able to check your EMAIL 3 to 5 times daily.

Sweet! So I totally qualify, as do both of my toddler children and possibly my dogs and cats. Finally, the compensation is discussed:

THE PAY IS $500 WEEKLY and you are entitle to a brand new car after 1month if you are hardworking and honest with me, WHICH IS NOT A BAD OFFER.

OMG, I’m going to make a killing doing nothing AND I’m getting a free car?!? Even if this is a scam, I should go for it! This really is not a bad offer. I mean, what do I have to lose, right? Let’s see what else Mark needs from me:

In closing, I have a couple of questions for you.

First, If I were to mail you money to do my shopping plus an upfront payment for your service, where would you want it mailed to?

Sure, I’ll just email you my mailing address. After all, who would turn down being sent money?

Second, how would you like for your name appear on the money or check?

Of course, I would like my name to by printed on said money. How else would I possibly want it?

Maybe you can provide me with the following details below

Name:

Address:

City:

State:

Zip:

CELL OR PHONE:

Occupation:

What is your bank Name:

And that’s the end of the email. What a fabulous opportunity! Maybe I’ll just send him that info as well as my account and routing number. Hell, I should just post it to the blog so you’ll all be able to send me money more easily!

Just to be clear: there are lots of schemes like this around- some are obvious like this one, some are really professional scam artists. They must have people who fall for them or else they wouldn’t bother sending emails like this around. Please, dear readers, always use your common sense and be careful. If something is too good to be true, it usually is. Nobody gives away free money.

Our Pursuit of Happiness

I haven’t been writing much lately. For one, because I haven’t had a lot of time to- I have been working a lot, it was my daughter’s third birthday, etc. And also because I have felt a little disheartened by the whole blogging thing. Even when I do write, I don’t seem to get very many readers anymore.

However, the show must go on and I really do love writing, so you’re not going to be rid of me just yet…

My husband’s retirement is approaching fast. We had been desperately trying to decide where to move and what to do. Somehow we just weren’t getting anywhere with our thought-process. So I decided to try looking at this new phase in our lives from a different angle. I asked A to think about what job would really make him happy, something that he would truly enjoy doing. It actually didn’t even take him very long to think about it: Despite his BS in Management and many years of working in a managerial position, he wants to be a motorcycle mechanic!

He looked into different options for school and found a program he liked in Orlando, FL. He applied and was accepted, so we will be moving to Orlando in about four months.

Not exactly what I had expected. Orlando wasn’t even anywhere near any of the places we had considered moving. And with A going to school full time, we will have a lot less money than we do now. But he is going after what feels right to him and that is the most important thing for us right now.

After all, what good is a well paying job if you hate going there? What use is all the money in the world if your husband has to work so much that you never get to spend any time with him?

I think he made a great decision and that he has chosen something he will enjoy doing for years to come. We’ll just spend 18 or so months in Orlando and see where it takes us from there. I am excited!

On Becoming Color Blind

One of the things that has always been most difficult for me to understand is racism. Especially here in the southern US, it is just so strange to me that people of different ‘races’ live with each other and hate each other. There are so many biases, so many prejudices.

The very first time I visited the US we drove through downtown Indianapolis. My boyfriend at the time, who had a few days prior given me a long speech about how racial equality existed and how it was unfounded for anyone to be upset about racism, was showing me the city. We drove down a street that looked very nice, with well-kept houses and stores. Suddenly, on that same street, the houses started to look more and more run down. I was told that we were now in a ‘dangerous’ part of town. My boyfriend explained that only black people lived on this run-down part of the street. It used to be a very nice area, but then black people started moving in, which made the property value drop, which then caused poorer people to move in, and in some crazy downward spiral, everything started to deteriorate. It was the most bizarre thing I had ever heard!

Unfortunately, this was American reality. Equality exists on paper before the law, but true equality is far from being here. A lot of people like to ignore this fact, but if we are completely honest, there is still so much major discrimination based on race that it makes it hard not to laugh at people who say equality is real.

My major at university was American Studies. I have come across the issue of racism extensively in my studies. I won’t bore you with the statistics and facts. Let’s just say that the situation isn’t great. However, there is no need to look at research papers, etc. to find examples of racism. Just take a look around you and you will find it every day, in almost every place you look more closely.

I love people who tell me that they are “not a racist, but…”, followed by some anecdote about how someone of a different color/origin did something to them that they disapproved of. Or people who say that “the blacks should get over slavery”- I am still actually not quite sure what they are even referring to, as I have 1. Never heard anyone complaining about slavery; and 2. Nobody every tells e.g. the Jews to “get over the Holocaust” because that would just be ridiculous- you can’t “get over” history.

I frequently like to remind people that segregation was only officially ended a little over 50 years ago. A lot of people still remember that! Quite honestly, if it were me, I don’t think I would forgive something like that and I would continue to hold a grudge. Surprisingly, most people who lived through that time don’t seem to be angry about it…

Why am I writing about all this? Because I had a profound realization that I would like to share. I have finally understood that true color blindness is impossible UNLESS you understand one thing: there is no us and there is no them. Seeing people as belonging into categories or groups, such as race, nationality, etc, just doesn’t work. I am not like every other “white” person- there is no common identity. Sharing a similar skin tone does not make anyone a kindred spirit.

You may have come to this conclusion a long time ago, but I feel enlightened. I am finally able to see beyond boundaries that were artificially created. Let’s face it: the categories in question were all formed in a feeble human attempt to make sense of the world in which they live. Then at some point, a few white men decided that their group was superior to all others. But actually, they have no real group. Sharing skin color is not common ground. I am of the same ‘race’ as Newt Gingrich, yet I have not one thing in common with him.

I am trying to free my mind. I believe I am on the way to truly becoming color blind. Maybe Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream isn’t completely lost yet…

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction...The chain reaction of evil -- hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars -- must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation." Martin Luther King Jr., Strength To Love, 1963

Changes Are Coming

A lot of our friends have already moved. Now, in just a few weeks, our best friends are moving away. 2012 seems to be the year of big changes. The dynamic of the groups I have been a part of here are shifting. There is a sense of coming and going in the air.

I don’t like change. Just a few weeks ago my friend said: “Oh, so you’re actually really conservative!” and for my own personal life, that is completely true. I’m not really too attached to geographic locations- moving isn’t very difficult for me. However, I have a very hard time dealing with people leaving my life. If it were up to me, I would keep all the people I have loved throughout my life somehow close to me.

This new era of change is going to be hard for me. I have been trying desperately to deny it, but it is coming and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Honestly, we’ve had it good the last 2 ½ years- so many great friends for my children to grow up with and so many wonderful mothers to help me become a better mum myself.

However, the hardest will be seeing my daughter be sad. I’m sure a lot of people don’t think that children as young as R are capable of forming close relationships with their friends. R really does have a best friend and it is going to be heartbreaking to try explaining the separation to her. I have already started mentioning her friend’s impending move in an attempt to prepare her, but I don’t think she will really understand until her friend is gone.

I know that this is life and I shouldn’t be so sensitive. I know that I take things to heart a lot more than I should. I can’t help it. I hate being separated from people I love and I wish I could altogether avoid it. It’s impossible, of course.

If you have any advice on how to make this easier on my daughter (she is almost three), please share!