January 6th: Meagan: Choices

Year-end retrospective, eh? Well, this was the worst year on record.  Hands down. No contest.

With that being said, this year also deserves a closer examination. It’s easy to write about all the shitty things that happen and exponentially harder to write about the everyday, happy, good things that make life amazing. I am not talking about the, “I got a raise!” or “We are having a baby!” or “We bought a house!” kind of excitement. I mean the deep contentment and fulfillment of the seemingly normal, everyday joys and happiness.

How do I write about the past couple months? How do I capture the love of my family when we are laughing and cuddling in bed before the day begins? How do I explain the smile that appears on my face watching the kids run and give their dad a hug when he walks through the door after work? It’s nice, but it’s not great for riveting story telling. People want the train wreck; they want the drama and the emotion.  I went from an average number of page hits from around 100 to over 300 as soon as I announced the divorce. That is a huge jump!! Like I said, people love a train wreck.

The summer months crept by as I chronicled my divorce. I went on and on about the realtor and my new shrink. I shared text message exchanges and emails. It was my story to tell. There was heightened drama and plenty to blog about. I published maybe half of what I was writing. I had a glut of material, a glut of emotion and a glut of fucked up shit to deal with. Honestly, it was one of those situations (and sometimes still is) where you look around and think, “What the hell did I do to deserve this? How did this become my life?”  

I spent a lot of time learning to let go. I spent a lot of time with my circle of friends. I spent a lot of time mourning the last 10 years. I was so mad at myself for trusting my first love, so mad that I could be so wrong, so god damn mad. (Well, maybe not mad enough. My therapist advised that I needed to direct my energy toward anger instead of shame…but that’s another story) I was ashamed and embarrassed. I was empowered and independent. I was strong and weak and hid my vulnerability well.

I made it through. I made it to the other side. I am surprised that I can even say that: THE OTHER SIDE. In the not too distant past I would pray for “the other side”. I would imagine what I would be like when I reached the other side. Would I have shared custody with my kids and live in a tiny apartment in Denton? Would I find love again? Would someone ever be worthy enough to be step-dad to my kids? Would an amicable relationship be possible with an ex-husband? Which then turned into…Am I worth more than to give this marriage another shot? Do past mistakes really ever disappear? Are people really capable of change? Do we owe it to our kids to make this work? Would I be better off co-parenting and finding a new path in life? Who knows. That’s the thing with what-if’s, you can’t find out all the answers; you are only given one very short lifetime of choices.

And I guess that is what I learned this year. We all have choices to make and we are responsible for those choices. Good, bad, right or wrong….that is the challenge of humanity. People make choices and there are hundreds of thousands of choices to make in a lifetime. That is the beauty; the possibilities are endless.

 

January 5th: Jen: Too much, too soon

My 2013

My year began like this; clock struck midnight…. I got sick with the flu! Happy New Year!! Umm no, the New Year blew it with me feeling like death without having a mass amount of alcohol to contribute to the feeling. My flu trickled down to my fiancé (he didn’t believe I was sick…. Sorry, women, ahem… mother’s don’t get to be “sick”) and then to my oldest daughter, thankfully not my youngest. Moving on into the second month of the year, after having an OBGYN yearly check up, my pap came back “abnormal” and so did the follow up, that April I ended getting a good portion of my cervix removed due to pre-cancerous cells… was told that I will never have another abnormal pap… well I did… and in 6 months I’ll see why. I changed from one job to another and then back… and I was also facing challenges with my fiancé.

A little bit about us is this; our relationship happened at hyper speed… not just fast, but really fast. We had been “together-ish” (there’s no real date that we started “dating”) for a full year when our first daughter was born if that gives you a good time line… oh and our kids… there 13 months apart…DON’T DO IT!!!!....the 13 months apart thing.  Both of us were raised two completely different ways and because of that, we both butt heads pretty often… I would like to venture in saying that, we have two

very different personalities as well.  In the first 6 months of the year, I had probably packed my bags and children at least four times? Most likely more… and moved to my sisters, the last time I left was after my surgery in April. I had no plans, no want to, nor really need to come back. I was over the relationship and its entirety and was not going to put our children through what was going on any longer. We could not stop fighting! Simple questions, wrong answer, sigh, etc... Would set each other off in a split second! Chris was verbally abusive and I have done my share of lying……. If you ask him, me being afraid of what was going to come out of his mouth or the possibility of day long fighting did not contribute to my lying… but in all honesty, a lot of it did. He made me feel like shit over the smallest of things, why would I want to tell him things that I was almost certain he would be opposed to of? I would much rather not tell him then get into another exhausting argument… with that said… you know the saying once you tell on lie, it just gets bigger and bigger, or you tell more and more…. That shits true! We both couldn’t control our major flaws… that was until the time I left and was never coming back… I think him and I knew that it was the end that we both just stopped. He went to therapy, and I tried my best to be honest. Granted, I should probably go to therapy… maybe I can get over stuff, work on my own flaws, etc, etc…meh... who knows, maybe I’ll add that to my list of New Year’s resolutions?

So, the first 6 months of the year blew…. But the last… they weren’t so bad!!! I ended up getting a new car in April? I’ve had the pleasure of going to Rangers games, a Cowboys game, and STARS game, Hannah started pre-school (LOVE LOVE LOVE)… though, I’m kind of jealous of my neighbors pre-school…MEAGAN!!! Haha. Had a great semester of school, got a brand new set of boobies!!! We purchased a travel trailer so we can see my sister and her family, along with my mom more often, I finally got to attend my families Christmas party (haven’t been in the past three years… you know having kids and all), there’s a ton more that I’m positive that I’m leaving out.

 

All in all the year has pretty much evened itself out. Hoping that the new year is a happy one all the way through, fingers crossed to no illness at midnight come the New Year as well as a possible fluke in having an abnormal pap result. Mine and Chris’ relationship, does still have its ups and downs from time to time, but, don’t they all! =)

 

 

 

 

 

 

         

January 4th: Lady B: Solo Parenting

I was listening to my Louis CK Pandora stand-up comedy station the other day and something he said really hit home with me. Granted, I think he is probably one of the funniest comedians out there when it comes to talking about his kids so I am a little biased. Brutal and a little too much sometimes, but his delivery is amazing. Anyways, he goes on to say something about “if you’ve never given the finger to the back of your child’s head when they turn around, then you’re just not parenting right.” Me- I've done that. I laughed so hard at the raw truthfulness and boldness of it but that sentence has stuck with me since then. I appreciate that kind of honesty, especially when it comes to talking about raising children. Those kids of statements, from random comedians to close friends, are the one thing that has gotten me through my job of being a solo-parent.

 I am a solo-parent. Daddy B is in the picture and we are together, it’s his job that takes him away. He’s gone for weeks, months sometimes, and we live in city away from all family so my chances of ever getting a break and relief are a slim possibility. I started my journey as a solo-parent the exact day my son was born. I was alone; I went into labor and drove myself to the hospital in the middle of the night. I will never forget the faces on the nurses watching me waddle in (water broken) holding all my bags. I remember one of them asking me “are you alone?” Certainly my reaction would be different after being pretty much alone for 2 years, and I’d say she’s lucky she didn’t have to deal with me now, although that’s probably just a fantasy as I would more than likely just cry out of pure defeat. B never made it, and my mom was in Miami visiting my sister. Luckily, my mom and sister both got there a couple hours before he was born. I like to joke that my son was brought into this world by a room full of strong women, but there’s no joke when it’s the pure honest truth.

 I am aware that I should be “grateful” and “thankful” he has a great job and can provide so much for our family and I am, but can’t a girl just bitch a little? He travels. A lot. Lots of people travel for work, here’s the difference, he’s gone weeks and sometimes months at a time, and when he is home he could be called out at any time. Just this year, the longest he has been home for one time period is a little over a week. Yes, I said a week. I have been solo-parenting for so long now, and I haven't mastered it by any means, but wanted to share the things about being a solo-parent that I've learned (and struggled) with this year.

1. We have to say “no” a lot, more than you can imagine. Even if we say yes, there’s a high chance we will have to say no up until the point we are in the car. I hate having to say no all the time; this is why this is probably one of the hardest things I’ve had to get used to. I risk losing friends, getting dis-invited, or just looked over when passing out invites for the simple fact that “she probably won’t come anyways.” Then, when B is home, I want to spend time with my family so it’s hard to justify always sticking through with previously made plans- so, more “no’s.” I work full time, and solo-parent full time on my off time, so the chance of me doing anything on the weeknights is slim to none—again a giant “no.” That tiredness can carry over into my weekends, also having me choose to take it easy or catch up around the house rather than go anywhere or do much. I am also the mother of a very bright, but very smart and stubborn 2 year old little boy, so you can’t imagine how many times I also have to say “no” to him. I doubt there is any other word that I say more, sometimes it hurts worse saying it to people I love and events and plans I’d love to keep, and sometimes I don’t mind yelling it as my son is about to jump from the coffee table to the couch—either way- it’s a hard lesson to learn.

       2. We talk. Way too much. When I get around adults or Daddy B calls me at night I can talk for hours, mostly about nothing. It’s so nice to have a conversation with an adult and even better to have someone talk back rationally and really listen. I leave visits with friends and even family and sometimes have to call and apologize for taking over a conversation or talking too much. After starting this blog post I realize I also write like a talk- too much, like Miley Cyrus in an interview I'm hard to follow and go on and on. This being said, fair-warning that if you ever invite me over for a visit or we meet up at any point, and I can actually come and don’t have to decline, know that I will talk a lot. I am aware.

      3. When you are a solo-parent, you not only take care of the kid(s), you are also responsible for everything having to do with the house, your car, and those kinds of things. Think of all the little things that you share responsilibity for, some of the things are even so small that you wouldn't recognize them unless they were suddenly only on your plate. Things like- taking out the trash, washing cars, making sure the yard looks good, making all calls regarding maintenance on the house and cars, etc. Clearly all the things I don't need to be responsible for I suddenly am. I'm lucky enough to be able to juggle myself, my job and my son, it's amazing if find time to do any of those too. Most of the time I don't find the time, hence the reason our house is in a mess and this post took me over 3 weeks to write.

      4. We cry more than enough. If you think you cry a lot, don't worry, I'm even more pathetic than that. I picture that part in the "Sex in the City" movie where Charlotte is in her kitchen and her baby is screaming and her toddler is making a mess- and she goes in the pantry and just cries. Her kids are pulling on the door handle and she's just saying something like "mommy needs a minute" while tears are streaming down her face. That's one of those "real" moments that keeps me going. That does happen; mom's everywhere have done that. I have that exact moment many times throughout my week, sometimes even in the same day. That moment where you just don't know where to go or what to do, and you can't leave your children too far out of view, so you cry in a corner, a pantry- whatever works for you. I've heard a lot of my friends say that when they have a day like that they hand their children to their husband when he gets home, time for them to have their break. A break to a mom can mean just being able to walk into another room to breathe and think for a few minutes, sometimes that's all we need. As a solo-parent there's nobody there for me to hand my son to when I've had too much, there's no relief. Therefore, sometimes crying is the only thing I can do, the only relief I have. It's crazy, but oh so true.

      5.  I had to learn from the beginning (and it took me awhile) not to compare myself to other mom's and parents out there. Daddy B and I have a different life than most, and we are making the best out of it. Social media is incredible, but as a mom, it can be a constant reminder of all the accomplishments of other moms and their kids. You can't care and you definitely can't compare. It used to wear me out to read about other babies "sleeping through the night" at 3 weeks old while I was a walking zombie, or read about kids reciting the alphabet and taking their SAT's at like a year old (ok- clearly not happening), but that kind of stuff doesn't matter. Everyone is proud of their kids and has a right to share; it doesn't make me less of a mom or my child less intelligent because we aren't all on the same path. I also used to roll my eyes reading about people posting things like "my husband will be gone for work for a few days"--really? Now I know it doesn't matter if you're solo for a few days or a few weeks, it's all the same. I sympathize with those people now and if any of them want to complain to me, please do so. I understand, believe me.

       So , to sum it up, I cry a lot, I talk too much, I'm always a step-behind, and I have to say no a lot- I just made myself sound so appealing. In all fairness, I'm still the same person I always was, I just work a lot harder to maintain. Being a solo-parent is a tough job, but I have to believe that I am strong and am making it. I am grateful that we have the things that we do and that Daddy B is blessed with such a great job, we will deal with the traveling issue later. We have adapted and Face time has become a priority for us daily.  My son is amazing and sometimes having him all to myself all the time is very rewarding. I am his world and he is mine. Here’s to 2014 and my third year of being a solo-parent, many things still left to learn but finally getting the hang of it.

 

January 2nd: Nicole: The 3 "C''s

As I sit here on a plane, heading back to Texas for the holidays, I’m beginning to reflect on what the year 2013 meant to me. (I must add that in addition to this, my mind is running rampant, continuously reminding me that I am NOT a blogger, nor a writer.) Any who, three “C” words simultaneously come to mind to sum up this year: change, challenges, and (lack of) control. I’ve come to realize that something would be wrong with me life if I weren’t being faced with these things, at least the first two, in a given year. And I must reiterate that by lack of control, I mean this in the most positive sense and as a norm.

2013 brought on many big changes for me (I will stick to the biggest two to keep things simple). You know that Blind Melon song “Change” with lyrics that go a little like this: “when life is hard you have to change”? The thing is, my life wasn’t really that hard, it had actually been going quite well. In spite of this, I have accepted that the only real constant in this world is change. I’ve also come to realize, from personal past experiences, that people tend to try and avoid change. This year I have subconsciously decided that if I am not allowing myself to be opened up to new possibilities (i.e. changes), I risk becoming stagnated, and that is not okay.

So here are some of the big changes 2013 brought me… and within these changes, there were definitely major challenges as well.

The first big change came when I went through the fearful process of reapplying to new colleges to transfer from the school I had been attending for two solid years, where I had met many wonderful people of all ages, sizes, races, shapes, and sizes. I had found and added onto my own special comfort zone here, being familiar with all corners of the school, which was right in the heart of downtown Chicago. 

I was accepted to DePaul University with the help from a pretty sweet scholarship. This all sounds great in theory, right?! Well, I can say that it didn’t seem that way to me at the time. I walked into the first day of class on September 11 (who could forget that date?) only to find that I was about to be taking classes with mainly kids in their late teens, maybe early 20s if I was lucky (I am 27). This was quite a humbling experience that took an entire quarter for me to get used to (not sure if I am even completely used to it yet to be honest). 

The old Nicole wanted to say “f**k it” and run, but that is not who I am today. I’m happy to report that I did stick it out, have learned SO much, and have had the privilege of studying under some magnificent professors! One of my favorite quotes from my favorite professor this year was: “the only tragedy of a mistake in not learning from that mistake.” In this past year, I’ve also decided to reroute my learning journey along the path of that of a Nurse Practitioner, focusing on public health and prevention from a holistic point of view.

My second biggest change involves my job, which came only a month before the start date at my new school, and the transition of this took, probably, up until this last week to finally feel settled in. I had a wonderful job that was handed to me by a very dear friend within a couple of months of living in Chicago (so I had had this job for almost 3 years). I began nanny-ing for a 3-month-old boy named Finn, and because I started with him at such a young age, it was as if we grew and developed together. Everything about this job was perfect, but the time came for Finn to begin preschool 3 days a week, the same days that I had been with him in the past. Time to find a new job.

Well, as luck would have it, finding another job came just as easily as it had the first time. My friend (same friend that found me my first job) had a second child since I started with Finn. And, now, she was the one who needed childcare! It seemed like this transition would be easy as pie, but I was quite mistaken. First off, it had not even crossed my mind that watching two children would be any different than watching one. Secondly, I was walking into this job as a stranger to these children.
The girl is 4 ½ and the little boy is 1 ½; needless to say, it took them awhile to warm up to me (especially the 4 ½ year old) and for myself to figure out how to mold into their already established ways of life. Early on, there were times that I was hit, called “stupid and smelly”, or simply responded to by nothing but loud screeches. Of course, I took this personally, beat myself up over it, and assumed that I must have been doing something wrong, but thank God I stuck it out! I finally feel comfortable in my role with this family and have come up with my own strategic moves for dealing with the curve balls that toddlers are great at throwing at you! I feel like I am actually making a difference and being there to support them in following their dreams!

(Side note: I challenged myself more physically than I ever have in my life. I ran in an 8 mile mud run that was mostly uphill/downhill with 32 obstacles- finishing that was one of the coolest feelings I have ever had. It was more mentally challenging than physically I think.)

The last thing that I mentioned at the beginning of this rant was accepting that I do not need to be in control of EVERYTHING. This has been a GIGANTIC burden that has been lifted off of my shoulders this year and I am incredibly grateful for that. Growing up, I was surrounded by people who needed to control everything around them, which caused me to grow up thinking that was the norm. If you are reading this and thinking you can relate to that need for control, I can promise you that there is a hidden freedom and new level of peace (that once seemed nonexistent) in letting go of that. I could not have handled all of the changes or challenges that I faced in 2013 as gracefully as I did without constantly reminding myself that there was something greater than myself out there guiding me safely on my journey. Letting go of the need to control everything has truly allowed me to trudge my own newly discovered path to happy destiny . I’ve learned that life is not meant to be easy, but the level of difficulty we have to deal with is determined by what perspective we choose to have. 

Here’s to 2014 being the best year yet!

January 1st: Gramdma Clay: Wisdom

When my beautiful granddaughter, Meagan, asked me to write an article for her blog, my mind did somersaults.

                First thought: “Oh boy!  Now it’s my time to be a blogger!  I’ve never done one, but I’ve read them.” 

                Second thought: I have to finish corrections on turning one of my favorite books,  Interlude In Time, into an e-book, making sure all the programing is in place to sell it on Amazon. It takes lots of time and patience to get the coding correct. Can I take away time from getting my time-travel book completed for writing a blog for my first grandchild AND first granddaughter? You bet!

                Third Thought (and most terrifying):  What should I write about?  I do books, stories and insurance adjusting. What have I got say that might interest others - and can I pull it off?

                I came up with an answer for each thought:  Yes!  Yes, and …maybe – by the skin of my teeth.

             Then I read more blogs and made the following decision: I don’t have much to do with children or even grandchildren at this stage of my life, except to love and hug them. I don’t have a husband; I support myself in a myriad of ways that has little to do with first-hand Corporate America. No one wants to hear about how to turn one of my books into a kindle. And then I realized.  I do have something to say. Like the third ghost in the Christmas Story, I am a vision of your future.   Yup, old age – such as it is. It could be good or not so good. But future attitude, and lifestyle today actually combines to sets up your choice for your tomorrow. The rest is Nature’s choice and the choices you already made in the past.

                Since I was a child, I traveled the world.  I saw bombed-out Europe after WW2, went to junior high in Munich and Kaiserslautern and high school in Frankfurt, Germany. By the time I was twenty two I had lived in 29 states, no small feat in the early sixties. In that day it was a lot of traveling.

                After thirty years of marriage, I went through a troubling divorce. Now, at the age of 70+, I have been forced to rearrange my thoughts of what I once was considered old age. As a teenager, I looked at my age now resigned to an old aged home waiting for my kids to show up and share a half hour of their busy lives. I imagined them sharing stories with me about people I don’t know and don’t care to know. I believed I’d nod off and they would appreciate that by leaving me alone.  Apparently, I’m not there yet. Neither are many friends my age.

                Instead, at this age, I still have dreams, aspirations, accomplishments to complete, trips to take, laughter to experience and friends to see, make and re-make.  I still have budgets, getting my work done in a timely manner, and finding the right man to share the rest of my life with – oh, not the man of my youthful dreams mind you, but one that fits into my present and personal relationship dreams. A man based more in reality (I give credit to my advanced experience on that one.) If that man ever comes along, he will have his own list of gifts to add to a relationship. And honestly,  a nice set of teeth wouldn’t hurt – it means he’s taken care of himself.  

                Funny thing is that there are very few differences between a younger woman’s dreams and an older woman’s dreams, except, perhaps, more realistic expectations of the outcome. An older woman has her dreams based on day to day reality and less on Santa’s Wish List. She’s also willing to compromise. I’d like my future partner have the same abilities, instead of him wishing for a perky pair of breasts and a flat stomach…after all, that’s my wish too! But the chances for either of us are  nil unless he’s got the money to pay for her company and/or her surgery. For those whom I’ve offended, “get over it.”

                Dear Halos in Heaven! Did I really write that? Tough tootsie rolls.

                I know what it’s like to be in a younger woman’s shoes. I was there once myself,  and the  memories and tough timesstill rattle around in my memories. Seasons, times, years, emotions – hundreds of years have been the same for humans. I have learned what it’s like to keep a relationship going on right and wrong tracks: male or female.  I have friends from high school I still meet with, talk and laugh with – even occasionally cry with.   I have had wonderful long relationships with five men that have meant much to me and with whom I’m lucky to still be in contact as friends. They have each taught me about life and relationships, both good and not-so-good.

                I still work and enjoy every moment of living…visiting with friends, watching SCANDAL and even the cleaning of toilets…(sick isn’t it? But once done, it feels good to know that it is clean.)

                When I wake up in the morning, I don’t think of my age until I look in the mirror and see an old caricature of my younger self. I drink my coffee and brush my teeth and hair.  I have a mental list of things that must get done, things that I’d like to get done and things that are just plain going to be delayed until they become a necessity. The last is often put off for another month if the first two aren’t completed.  Every day I do things other much younger people also do – at least I hope.

                Every day I text or talk to one or two old friends and at least one family member. Two or three evenings a week I meet and talk with friends. I dance, have a glass of wine, laugh and occasionally wonder what it would be like to get to know someone who’s just joined our circle.  And then I go home and smile as I go to sleep because I’m still here, I’m still laughing, I am healthy; and still feel young - even in this old body.   

                When I first got divorced twenty years ago, I did those same things, occasionally with the same people I do now.  The difference today verses twenty years ago is just one:  I know the differences time has created and I cherish both the differences and the sameness of our lives. 

                I am growing into an old soul and am absolutely certain that I’m lucky to be here. Lucky that I have lived this life, had the parents I had even though I cursed them when they didn’t deserve it, and lucky to still have time to make amends with friends and foes. I have time to apologize to those I might have hurt along the road I chose for this journey, and mostly, the time to change what I need to change. I want another day in heaven-on-earth to watch those I love grow older, too. If that comes true, I’m a happy camper.

                This season brings about the wonderful feeling of sharing.  So my wishes this year are about that same thought.

                My Christmas wish is to have my family members (four children, seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren) learn as much, and even more than, I have learned in this lifetime. I’m also wishing they learn their lessons in life sooner than I did.

                My New Year’s wish is to continue to enjoy my life as it is now. It sounds like a simple request, but it’s not. Nothing, especially life, remains the same nor is it ever simple. 

                 The difference between the young me and the older me is that I know the differences that age, circumstances, family and friends have made, and I appreciate them. Every day.  Lucky me!

                And finally - most of all, having a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year with people you know and some you don’t yet know – and that you make that family of friends as well as your family of relatives, a wonderful asset in your life and forgive them their occasional trespasses. So I wish that you, too. Recognize how important both families are, and may you have a long happy life surrounded by those you love.

 

Rita Clay Estrada, proud to be Meagan’s Grandmother.

December 31st: Jimmy: 2nd Star to the Right

Song 2

I’m in a hotel lobby.  It’s late.  Only weirdoes hang out in hotel lobbies late at night.  Jay Z lied.

I travel a fair amount for work.  Not as much as some, I guess.  Airline Pilots.  Bus Drivers.  They probably travel more.  Well, the good ones anyways.

The thing about traveling is, in between points A and B -- and sometimes C or even D – there’s always a fair amount of in between time that you can’t help but fill with idle thoughts.  For those of you out there reading this in between a series of meetings or in line at the bank or while juggling multiple babies as they cry or vomit, or cry and vomit, and can’t help but exclaim ‘what I wouldn’t give for some time to idly think’ let me throw a quick ‘talk-to-the-hand’ to your misplaced jealousy.  That time for idle thinking is highly overrated.  Thinking with purpose, sure.  But idle thought…

It always starts with casual observation. 

Wow, that guy is bald.  Man, that old guy is fat.  Hey, that chick is hot.  Hey, that mom is hot.  Hey, that older lady is hot-ish.  (Oh by the way, if you’re having trouble relating with this line of thought, it’s perfectly acceptable to substitute your sex of preference here or anywhere in the following comments.  (Ex. Whoa, that old chick is fat.  Hey, that dude is hot.  Hey, that dad is hot.  Hey, that older duder guy is hot-ish… etc.  Got it?  Where was I?  Oh yeah…)

And then when your mind takes in enough random stimuli to start forming coherent thoughts, they slowly turn from casual observation to lofty self-evaluation.

Gee, I wonder if I could get a chick/dude that hot.  I wonder how much more I’d need to work out to get a chick/dude that hot.  I really should start working out more.  When was the last time I was at the gym?  Good god, I’m getting lazy.  …  Shit.  I guess I’ve always been lazy.  I really need to be less lazy.

And the final twisted phase of these dangerous mind strolls is a rapid shift from lofty self-evaluation to intense self-deprecation.

Maybe if I weren’t so lazy, I could do cooler stuff.  I could finally learn to play the guitar.  I’ve always wanted to play the guitar.  Tommy can play the guitar.  Jesus.  Why the hell didn’t I ever learn to play the guitar?  … Tomorrow I’ll start guitar lessons.  No wait.  Tomorrow is that stupid thing I’ve got to do.  Next week.  Next week, for sure, I’ll learn to play the guitar … Or at least start anyways.  Where is that instructional video?  The guitar case?  I think so.  … Wait, where the hell is the case?  In the garage?  I really should clean out the garage. How’d it get to be such a mess?  Jesus, how’d my life get to be such a mess?  What the hell have I been doing with my life? … Hell, even if I started playing next week I’d probably only keep it up for what?  A month?  Two?  What’s the point?  I’ll probably never get really good at it.  It’s too late.  Good god, I never would have said anything like that ten years ago.  Why didn’t I ever do anything worthwhile?  Like really worthwhile?

And here’s the weird part about ambling far enough down these dark and confusing tunnels of introspection:  If you wander far enough, you always seem to slam into a spot that’s almost precisely the exact same spot you slammed into last time you wandered down here.  It’s like laying back down in a full body porcelain casting mold you made of yourself a few months ago.  Some stuff shifted a little, it’s pretty darn cold, and I’m not sure why you made it either -- but it’s definitely yours. 

For me, in the last year, my stupid body mold keeps popping up propped against the high school graduation stage.  I know, I know.  High school?  Why?  I don’t think I’m one of those guys that had their psyche scarred back then.  In fact, I think I liked high school.  And I definitely don’t want to think it was the peak of my past or anything semi-sad like that.   I believe I’ve done good and productive things with my life since then.  Sort of.

But here’s where I’m stuck.  A few months ago I went to my little sister’s high school graduation.  I won’t get into the specifics as to how or why I have a sister so much younger than me – in fact I prefer not to get into the specifics of how or why I have a sister so much younger than me as I’m pretty sure it involves me at an age of rational thought and memory and my parents in some compromising position… or positions.  Gross.  The point is that her graduation made me think back to my graduation – pretty sure graduations do this to people.  I remember standing there in cap and gown at 18 years old, hugging parents and smiling at cameras and looking at 5 year old her thinking, “Wow. When she graduates what in the heck life is life going to be like?”

And now, seeming suddenly here I am living as that man I imagined being 13 years ago.  Bills.  Job.  31 going on more.   I was supposed to be rich, married, and famous by now… and well… 0 out of 3, I mean… I guess, I’m not really sure what happened.  I think I’m happy.  I think I’m cool.  And I certainly don’t feel much older now than I did back then.  But numbers don’t lie, and neither does 18 year old logic, so clearly by those standards 31 must be OLD.

So you try and compensate.  You do anything and everything to tell society and yourself, that you may be old, but you’re not that old.  You go out drinking on random weekdays.  You date people in their 20’s.  You wake up on the floor at 3 am in a puddle of drool, Cheetos, and video game controllers.   #youthbinge

And when the cloud of cheese dust settles and you realize you’re all out of Advil, 30 year old you politely asks 18 year old you to get the hell out.  You flop down on the couch in front of 7 hours of Sports Center and introspection slowly creeps its way back into the dimly lit family room.  How did it come to this?  What have you been doing the last 13 years?  I’ve got that aging part down, but the rest is sort of a blur.  In fact a lot of stuff between now and then seems like a blur. 

And maybe that’s the point.  Nowadays you can talk face to face with someone thousands of miles away while you’re driving down the road.  Robots are delivering packages and bombing people.  And honestly – moral objections aside – it all makes perfect since.  31 year old me skims through news stories chronicling technological advancements without a second glance while 18 year old me would have said “what the what?!!” while falling off my parent’s couch.  It may not have made a ton of sense then but now that you’re here, well, it seems obvious.

You can set goals and aspire for purpose.  And sometimes the path is seemingly straightforward and easy.  Get a degree.  Find a job.  Buy a house.  But the more you paint pictures of what the future is going to be and lay out long term plans for how exactly you’re getting to that long distance place, the road sort of takes some sharp turns just past the ole Johnson Farm and ends up winding through some pretty heavy fog.   And when you or someone like you stops yourself feeling your way through that haze and asks where you’re going, you say something trippy and coy like “Second star to the right, man” to hide the fact that A) you’re not entirely sure you are in fact going the right direction and B) you’re not entirely sure that original place you were aiming for is still even there… but more than anything you just want to keep on going.

And as hard as we try to get to some place we thought years ago was the place to be, we usually find ourselves somewhere left of center of our original destination.  But the thing is, lots of times left of center ain’t that bad.  (If you’ve already read ‘left of center ain’t that bad’ on a quilted pillow somewhere in an east Texas living room a long time ago, yeah, we saw the same one.  If you haven’t, dude, you gotta see that pillow.)

For those of you who have stuck with me long enough desperately hoping to find some precise epiphany or overall moral to this story, well, I guess I owe you an apology.  I started out with a point to make in my mind originally, but between my endless rambling and lame attempt at humor here and there well… it’s kind of a blur, I guess.  2014 and second star to the right, man.

December 30th: Monique: Babies and Blue Trees

ok here it goes...2013 in a nutshell. 

I am a passionate person. Positive and always happy to help. I find that this has also caused me at times to over commit or extend too far and end up falling on my face. It's OK though, no one ever really knows and I just pick myself up and try again, shine on, or keep moving and don't look back (until Meagan asks me to!) Being a mom that is blessed to stay at home and be a homemaker, I can relate and share the same stories of not feeling like I'm doing the right thing or being good enough, how do I take care of me and the hubby and the kids?! In all the sweet moments of joy & bliss and nagging worry & doubt,  I learned this past year that it's all about my relationships and my family! (I include friends here, everyone is an aunt or uncle to our kids which will probably confuse them one day.) 

We have been in Sugar Land for a year and a half now and the move away from everything and everyone we had known and love and the place we had thought to set roots was bitter sweet. Jacob and I met in Dallas; I stayed after college, we bought a home, had our boys, and made my brother move back to Texas! So I'd like to think I was a contributing factor to him relocating :) When we packed up and had so many friends stop by and send farewells and say that they'd visit and we'd keep in touch, to be honest I didn't want to go. I didn't think we'd really stay in touch. AND remember friends are family. So I felt like I was saying goodbye to 15 years of what I had known to be my life. To say hello to new adventures was exciting don't get me wrong because it was with my partner in crime and our two little monsters. Looking back I can say "WOW! I have amazing friends and we have ALL kept in touch!" Is it possible to even rekindle old friendships too because of the move? YES, I was taken away from my daily routine to sit still in a town where I didn't know but only one person, I had the time to reach out! Since we've been gone, Dallas comes to me and I go to Dallas. We celebrate birthdays, have girls trips, family time, trick or treat, and "just because we can" visits all the time! What a blessing!! 

Jacob was taking a leap of faith to change up the career and go from insurance to manufacturing, which I support him and knew it was & is a ride we are on together! Being where we are is super special to me because of a dear girlfriend name Tara :) We had met at the bus stop in Round Rock in the 4th and 5th grade! Did I tell you we are 34 now?!! WOW!! Through middle school, high school, college, weddings, babies, and whatever else life threw at us we have stayed in touch. NOW, we get to live in the same city after 15 years of being apart!! I love her!! What a crazy thing to see our kids play and to know we were close to their age when we met. Life is funny in that way. YOU JUST NEVER KNOW! 

Transition, Change, Movement....it's what keeps us alive. Our blood flows, we take deep breaths, and open our eyes to see what's ahead.

I attempted to work from home, just 20 hours that's all I needed to do a week and would be able to live that dream of not waiting tables and just be with my family, while working from home. Well.... I only lasted a couple months and was fired! It's not as harsh as it may seem when one says they were fired, but truthfully I couldn't put in the time! Our boys are still young and I didn't know how to do it. AND. IT. IS. HARD. TO. WORK. FROM. HOME! I admire those who can stay focused and not wonder off to do house chores or just raid the frig or mess with laundry!! Ha! Maybe it's just me. So there goes a little bit of my self confidence and a little pride, felt like a failure, more than anything that I had let my friend, the boss, down :( So I look on the bright side. I have a great relationship with my friends and I can hold my head high because it was a chance I took, that we both took. Even though it didn't turn out like we wanted, I was reminded that raising my boys is my priority right now. Everyone says it, "they grow up fast, enjoy these moments!" 

Which brings me to the baby bug that for some reason still has a grip on me! Jacob and I decided lets try for one more, we need a girl right? Talk about thinking you know everything to you know and control nothing! While on our adult vacation to some friends' wedding in Jackson Hole, WY we found ourselves in a 24 hour tour of the amazing St. John's Medical Center of Jackson. Long and short, I had an ectopic pregnancy!! 8 cm mass on left ovary and you will have surgery in 12 hours. No words, just that blank look on your face and jaw slightly open as to speak but nothing comes out... YUP, that was us. Ryder & Lincoln were great pregnancies and deliveries so didn't think anything like this would happen. However, on that note- my focus is the relationships in my life, right. Wendy, the bride to be, came to the hospital at 1 am to check on me and was the most amazing friend to leave notes and be so thoughtful when she was walking down the isle in 2 days!! 

This year has been awesome; with trials & tribulations, gut wrenching situations to make me stronger, tests to make me wiser, and all with my soul mate by my side. I feel like everyone has their version of the same story. Not to dismiss or down play anyone's life. Just to realize we all struggle, laugh, cry, and pray. To do it all with family and make relationships that last along the journey that's what I hope for and wish for all in this world. 

December 29th: Dana: The 9th Year

The hardest part of writing this blog is trying to narrow down this year because A LOT has happened.  To tell you would mean to give you back stories because I don’t want to just casually say this and that. I want to give you the honest truth as Meagan has so eloquently given us this year (Thank you).  So, here is a look into some of what happened. 

If you’re into Numerology 2013 is my 9^th year, which means:

“This is a year to let go of things that do not work for you. It is considered a year of Completions and Endings. You must relax and do not try to control things in your life. Let them go or they will be taken from you as your soul, the universe cleans house for the next cycle in your life. This can be a very difficult year, particularly if you do not like change. The more you pursue things, the more they will elude you. Relationships end. Nothing that begins in your 9 year will remain. It is a time to plan and seek out new jobs, relocations and more. There can be many learning lesson in the 9 year, or you can plan for it and coast right through.”

This couldn’t be more true.  2013 has been like squeezing a lemon in an open wound while your favorite song plays in the background.

 The year started out better then expected or so it seemed.  I began performing at the Dallas Comedy House in an all ladies troupe, something I NEVER saw myself doing.  Clifton proposed to me just about a week before I turned the big 30.  It was better than anything I could have ever hoped for or imagined, I still get giddy thinking about it.

 Even though things were going great in a lot of areas, I was falling apart in others.  My confidence was broken, I was struggling with depression, I didn’t feel like me, I was going through the motions.

 I decided to go back to therapy.  I had been before but only briefly.  The great thing about therapy is you learn a lot about yourself.  The not so great thing about therapy, you learn a lot about yourself.  It’s not always easy and it most likely means you have to work to change, but if you’re willing to do it, the destination is so worth the struggled journey.    

 Before my first session I remember thinking “what am I going to say?”  “I’m not even sure what is wrong with me or why I’m here.”  “My life isn’t terrible, I’m pretty lucky.  So what’s wrong with me?”  Well somewhere between that conversation in my head and the moment I sat down I figured it out because I had plenty to say and my eyes had plenty of tears.

 I honestly couldn’t’ tell you what I said in that first session or hell the ones to follow but I will tell you what I learned about myself.

 

Acceptance.  I wouldn’t say this is a personal strength.  Do I think I’m accepting things, yes.  Am I actually accepting things, no.  Clifton is a bar manager at Dallas Comedy House, he also does improv, stand-up and anything and everything in between.  This means our schedules are nearly opposite.  He’s at home during the day (for the most part) while I’m at the office.  I come home and want to chill (most of the time) and he’s either walking out the door to work, perform or itching to get out of the house.  Opposite.  I’m not sure if it’s a vision I had in my head or societal norms of working 9-5 and free weekends but it took me a while to accept that this was my life.  Don’t get me wrong I don’t want to change it I just wasn’t accepting it, I was fighting it and in turn I was fighting with Clifton about it.

 Numero uno.  It seems the reason I was fighting so much and so hard is because I felt second in Clifton’s life.  I have for a long time now and probably still do slightly feel that he chooses improv, or comedy for that matter, over me.   He does not.  However, now that he has decided to pursue this as a career I have learned that I need to share my number one status with comedy.  This is something I’m still working on, but I get it and I support this career choice.  He’s amazingly talented and I will do whatever I can to help him succeed.

 Dropping Shoes.  I am always waiting for the shoe to drop.  Always.  I’m waiting for the day when Clifton says “I’m out!”  I’m waiting for the phone to ring to bring some awful news.  I think this has to do with abandonment issues.  My parents are divorced, they separated when I was 12.  I had just come home from a nice long summer vacation in Virginia with my Aunt and Uncle and the first thing I was told was that we were moving out with our mother.  Huh?  Wait, what did I miss?  While I was off riding horses, meeting the Smucker sisters and having one of the best summers I can remember, my life at home was falling apart.  A year later we moved in with my dad and from there I seemed to have lost my mother in a lot of ways during some critical girly growing up moments.  This probably ties into the next eye opening thing.

 Trust.  I don’t trust easily.  This was actually a surprise to me.  I thought I was a very trusting person.  I also thought I was an open book.  I am neither.  Most of the time people have no clue what I am thinking, what my facial expressions mean and who I really am.  That’s probably because my face is expressing something completely different then what I am thinking because there are usually a minimum of 13 thoughts in my head at a time and I don’t have that many faces.    

 Son of a *%$#!.  Apparently I’m angry.  Anger is the one emotion I don’t seem to vocalize often, Clifton will probably tell you a different story.  I will internalize anger and that will turn into depression.  REVELATION!  Clifton’s therapist opened my eyes to this one.  She told me that I should use my anger to fuel myself instead of becoming depressed.  Yes!  Anger does actually fuel me.  However, like everything there is a fine line.  I don’t want to be an angry person so I need to learn to let the anger fuel me but not consume me.

 Play.  I don’t know how to play, have fun, just plain relax.  Perhaps it’s the fact that I had to grow up fast.   I mean in a lot of ways I helped raise my little sister.  I had a job when I was 11 years old.  To this day, I don’t know how to relax and just have fun!  I’m constantly thinking of what needs to be done today, tomorrow, next week.  It never ends.  I have ruined many a wonderful evenings being consumed by thoughts of things that “needed” to be done.  Nothing NEEDS to be done.  Ever.  Unless you are saving someone’s life or about to cut the blue or red wire it doesn’t NEED to be done right then.

 I began therapy to work on my confidence and I came out with a whole lot more, talk about a bang for your buck.  Um, wait. 

 Anyways, here is an update.  My confidence is back, which helped to clear up some of the above issues.  I’m continuing to work on most of the other discoveries such as anger, learning to play and letting the shoe drop.  I am currently not in therapy, I sorta graduated it, or that’s what I tell people.  I’m welcome back anytime I feel it’s needed.  That’s comforting.

 In between this journey of self-discovery there have been some solid, purely amazing moments and that’s the best lesson of all.  Life is about moments.   Here’s a peek at some of my favorites:

 

We adopted this adorable little guy who has stolen my heart and I have yet to find and regain control.  I never thought I would own a dog and I blame Etta for turning me into a softie but I’m so grateful to have two wonderfully amazing little critters who I couldn’t imagine life without.

 I got engaged!   It was everything and more then I would have ever hoped for.  I’m the luckiest girl in the world to get to travel through life with this man by my side. 

Richard Rope will always have a special place in my heart and I cherish every moment I have spent with these beautiful talented women. 

I official became an aunt to this beautiful baby girl, Layla Leah Myers, who I get to meet in less then a week!

Many a nights spent drinking, laughing, conversating and the occasional dance-off with some wonderful friends.

So since this was my ninth year, that means 2014 is my 1^st year.  Year one is new beginnings and will set the tone for the next nine year cycle.  Cheers to that and me not fucking it up!

 

  
 
 

December 28th: Kelly: The Joyous Challenge

My greatest challenge, my greatest joy.

As I reflect on my life I tend to only recall the joys, the triumphs, the love, the joy---not the pain, challenge, anger and loss.  I glean from the challenges what I need to be a stronger, better person but once I have passed the challenge and learned the lesson I tend to just remember the lesson, the joy, the triumph.  However there is a time to share the challenges so that maybe the pain, or anger, or loss, or trial we endured is all worth it.  No challenge is worth fighting through if, at the end, we are not better for it AND willing to share it.  Why share it?  Maybe, just maybe someone else will get pulled up from the pits of despair, encouraged in a moment of need or shown a glimmer of hope by hearing our story.  That is why I always share my story, no matter how messy or beautiful it is.

Two challenges stand out to me over the past year:  one, the loss of a baby conceived but never born and two, the end (and soon to be beginning again) of a battle with post partum depression.
I have two beautiful children, ages three and two, who are simply amazing.  There is no other way to describe them.  Sure they throw tantrums, disobey and can be as obstinate as they come, but they are still amazing.  I never understood how deeply and quickly love could grow until these two littles entered my life.  So, when we learned in July we would add another baby to our crazy beautiful mess of a family, we were delighted. 

Due to a complication early on, we had an ultrasound much earlier than we have liked in the past and discovered there was a stow away---twins which we affectionately nick-named Rhema and Olive.  I tried not to get too excited over the idea of the two little lives God entrusted with us because I knew we were at great risk to lose one or both.  The couple of people who knew encouraged me to accept the reality and get excited about it.  Finally around 11 weeks I could not stand it---I was excited.

Excitement soon turned to sorrow only a week later we discovered one was gone.  We had lost a baby.  Although, I could have gotten worse news that gloomy day it was still heartbreaking to learn we lost our baby—the baby whose heartbeat we fell in love with. Only Rhema, our special survivor, was in there. Olive was gone.   I will never forget the one we lost.  And in retrospect, I will never forget how easily my heart falls in love.  I loved that tiny baby so much and it hurt so badly to lose it.  I never knew I could feel such grief over someone I never met; I was blindsided by the intense waves of grief.  I thought I was over it and then moments later would find myself in tears.  From that experience came so many opportunities to teach my daughter about Heaven and how we will meet Olive there one day (I wish I could tell that story here because it might be the greatest story ever). 

Through this my precious husband and I grew even closer.  Through this I learned to trust God even more with the remainder of the pregnancy.  Through this I gained a unique perspective in which to help other women going thru similar experiences (and as God usually does, he has provided many opportunities to help other women ALREADY).  Many people said “I wish you had never known it was twins”.  I don’t.  I find great joy in every conversation about losing Olive.  Not only is it a chance to remember (and celebrate) the short life it is a chance to maybe, just maybe help someone else.  This challenge, even though it is still fresh, is already a joy.

All in the same moment we jumped for joy over discovering we were pregnant again, the dread of impending postpartum depression (PPD) set in.  I struggled so deeply with PPD after my first two pregnancies that it is almost a certainty the third go round. 

 People are so afraid to talk about this and it is because of fear—I get it.  I knew I had PPD and yet did not seek help the first time because I was afraid I would be stuck on medication forever, I was afraid people would think I did not love my life, I was afraid people would think my marriage was falling apart, I was afraid I would seem ungrateful for my precious children and I was mostly afraid that it would define me.  Well, none of those fears materialized except the last one (and I am glad the experience is a defining moment in my life now…read on).   I finally sought help after our second baby when I found myself not sleeping and watching my life happen in front of me---feeling nothing except for the desire to WANT to love it.  I wanted to badly to love my second baby, I wanted to badly to enjoy just being with my toddler, I wanted so desperately to enjoy my husband bonding with a son, but…I couldn’t.  I wanted to love it and enjoy it but did not, not even a tiny bit.  I was watching my beautiful life just pass me by. 

Long story short, I realized it was a pride issue fueled by my aforementioned fears.  I had to get over myself and do what was best for my family even if it meant judgment or medication for the rest of my life.  My family meant more to me than the pride of “I got through it without help” or even the temptation to hide that it ever happened.  So…I got on Zoloft and it was amazing.  I have no regrets.  And……after a year of taking it, (stopped November 2012) I ended it with no issues and enjoyed my family immensely this year….PPD and medication free. 

And yet again, God has brought struggling women into my life, almost by storm, experiencing PPD symptoms and allowed me the joyous opportunity to walk through it with them.  I can walk with them having the confidence that they will come out the other side victorious.  I find great joy in walking through the experience with others because maybe, just maybe they will find encouragement from my story.

As we entered our third pregnancy this year, I had to stop my fear of PPD by reflecting on the victory we already have!  Fear will not impede the joy of this pregnancy.  One thing is certain, we will find ourselves experiencing joy at the end of the day….because my greatest challenges are also my greatest joys.

 

 

You can read more about Kelly's joyous challenges at her blog :

 

 http://keepingupwiththegrantgang.blogspot.com/2013/11/39-downloading.html