Have yourselves a very Merry Christmas...

Whoa Nellie...

Life has been busy.

The kind of busy where you are constantly putting out fires.

Not just little brush fires but big, flaming, nasty ones.

Thank God for chocolate and vodka.

They're my own brand of fire extinguisher.

The wonder years...

The planets must've realigned, or maybe it's just the full moon that loosens the lips of the boy.


He paced around me. Watching closely to gauge what type of mood I'm in.


I catch his eye and see apprehension and resolve flick by for a moment. Then it's gone.


He licks his lips and starts to talk to me. I tend to be more reactive in general, so I concentrate on, not only listening to him, but hearing him too.


He felt the need to confess. He knew what he did was wrong, and he knew there was a possibility that things could go badly for him in a matter of minutes.


I'm the hard-ass of the parental unit. You, on the other hand, are the marshmallow. I feel we are a matched set in that respect. You need rules and leniency mixed together or life becomes too strict or uncontrolled.


He lays his confession before me. Waiting nervously for my verdict. I smile and weigh my thoughts.


Yes, what he did was wrong. Yes, he'll need some kind of discipline, but all-in-all it really was very minor.


I think back to when I was his age and remember the stupid things I did on a regular basis. I weigh the safety factor of what he said and realized several things.


 1. I was up to way scarier shenanigans at that age and he's nowhere near that lunacy.


 2. He still craves approval from us. He still wants us to help guide him through this time in his life. Sometime in the near future he'll be on his own and not need us in that way anymore.


 3. I'm damn lucky.


 He and I agreed that what he did was wrong and that I'd appreciate it if he didn't do that again.


 He smiled and hugged me.


 At that moment I realized that he wanted me to stop him.


I was his perfect excuse against peer pressure closing in on him.


 He's not ready to grow up yet and I'm very ok with that.

Long time coming...

It's been a long few months. Even though my week seems to fly by, I still feel like February was forever ago.

 I'm tired.

 Tired of multi-tasking.

 Tired of working over time.

 I'm tired of fighting what seems to be an uphill battle. Even though it's my job, I wish it was easier. 

Tired of my hormones constantly out of whack.

 And most recently, tired of being covered in poison ivy.

 I'm not asking for sympathy. I know that life could always be worse.

 I think I just need a good nap.

Home on the range...

The old homestead is for sale.

It's weird.

It's only a matter of time before it's gone.

I've moved more times than I can count. I've even probably forgotten a few moves.

For some reason this move has me a bit rattled.

Maybe it's because my childhood memories are being delivered to me in bags and boxes.

Is it because those mementos always belonged to my parents - and essentially "home?" A place where I can always return should I need it?

Now I think I get how you felt years ago when this happened to you. I remember telling you "everything will be OK" and it was. But now I understand all the emotions and anxiety that creep into your subconscious.

You say "yes" to the offers because they're pieces of you. Should you say "no" they will be gone forever. These scraps of paper, brightly colored toys, or odd pieces of furniture represent a time in your life when you were being shaped and molded into the person you now are.

How do you say "no" to that? I get that feeling that my foundation is being shaken, so I say "yes" to nearly everything - hoping all the clutter will help stabilize the feeling I have of losing something important.

Mid-summers night pallette...

Twilight at mid-summer pulls me outside to catch a glimpse of the Divine.

The setting sun does not fade without a fight.

The colors of rainbow sherbet splash across the low clouds as dusk creeps in below them.

The contrast of the hot pink surrounded by bright orange and the periwinkle fading into shadows makes me hold my breath for a moment.

Until the moment when evening wins the arm-wrestle with daylight.

Night darkens the edges of the day.

Colors begin to fade into the limited chromatic scheme of navy blue and white.

I watch as the moon hangs low in the sky - just waiting it's turn to ride across the horizon.

While some people prefer mornings with the rising sun, I'm never awake or in the mood for such a thing.

I'm a night owl. I prefer the beauty of the dark.

The mystery of it all.

Full moons...

I cannot sleep.

I have heat-induced insomnia.

The heat and humidity have my clothes sticking to me. A thin film of sweat has left a fine sheen on my bare skin.

You turn and look at me. It is obvious you share in my misery.

Even though you are exhausted, a twinkle shines in your eyes.

You reach out to me and just say, "Come on."

I take your hand because I think you're reading my mind.

The world is asleep. Their homes all having the familiar hum of hard-working air-conditioners.

We head outside with towels in hand.

We strip in the moonlight and giggle like teenagers.

You jump in first with me following quickly.

The water is cooling and I feel the heat of the day fade from my skin.

We swim and talk. Talk and swim.

It's one of those nights that I'm so lucky you're my best friend.

Sunshine Solitude...

I sit outside and laze in the sun.

It's one of my most favorite things to do. I know it's not good for me, but I love the warmth of the rays soaking into my skin.

The Ipod is on "random" and songs loaded long ago but forgotten, play. I find myself singing along. Not well, and not loud, but loud enough that I am conscious of the volume. A singer I am not.

The iced-tea is cold. My stack of books to read is tall.

I love these days. I always have.

Long ago I enjoyed this kind of day with a group of like-minded friends.

Now I share them only with you.

The comfortable silence rides the afternoon.

You in your head and me in mine.

I write in my journal all the thoughts that have occurred to me in the past few weeks and you patiently wait to hear them.

And eventually you will.

Life in the fast lane...

The promise of "being busy" earlier in the year doesn't even encompass the reality of my life these days. 

Meetings piled on top of meetings on top of meetings are how most of my time is blocked off. The rest of it is spent doing over time.

That wink and smile they give you at first, "well you can do over time" has become, "it is mandatory because we're so busy."

 Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to have a solid job. I'm not thrilled with giving up my personal life so I can shuffle more papers.

 I'm tired and cranky and just wish to have a whole lotta nothin' to look forward to. As it is, they say we're going to plow through the summer at the same pace.

 I hope I don't get a flat tire before then.


 ps - and WTF is up with Blogger and all these changes?

Button, button, who's got the button?

They say only a person you love will infuriate you.

I don't know about that.

There are plenty of people in this world who piss me off and I don't even like or know most of them. Love was never a factor.

However, maybe when you love someone, and they you, they also know which buttons to push. How many times and in which order to drive you out of your mind.

The boy is an expert in this area. And, I do love him more than life itself.

He knows the right combinations to make me want to just choke him with my bare hands.

My mother once told me (or maybe several times - it's hard to count the multiple lectures I received throughout my life) "One day you'll understand."

At the time I thought she was a crazy woman just babbling at me.

Now I see that maybe she saw my future and was actually clairvoyant.

Crazy or not, I'm beginning to believe her. Or at least understand the frustration of having a surly teen.

Just don't tell her I said so.

"If you understood"

Those were the words slapped back at me.

Yes, if I only I could. Apparently, in her eyes, I am but a dullard and incapable of understanding.

"If you understood" is her way of saying "if you were smart..." without actually calling a person stupid.

Neither of which will prompt a conversation from me - or at least a conversation that won't end with my foot on your neck.

I smile and take it because I have to. I smile and take it because I love him and don't want to hurt him. I know my bite is worse than my bark.

And she wonders why we don't talk much anymore.

If she only understood...

Big Wheel...

Certain songs bring flashes back to me of strong memories. I guess scents can do that too, but music tends to affect me the most.

The IPod set on random pulls up an oldie but goodie for me.

Def Leppards "Photograph" makes my eyes glaze over.

I can faintly see the multi-colored lights flash in time with the drums - which, in my head - make my body thrum with the beat.

One of my first paying jobs was to work the door at a roller skating rink.

The only one in several towns, it was a hot spot on a Saturday night for kids my age.

A friend of a friend got my friend a job, and then my friend got me a job.

We were in positions of power.

Did we abuse the power?

Hell yeah and absolutely.

If I didn't like you, you didn't get in.

If she didn't like you, she wouldn't play your favorite song until you had either left the building or were in the bathroom.

Petty, I know, but teenage girls can by bitchy like that.

After 10 pm, I could leave the door and hang out with my friend.

We would take turns spinning the licorice pizza. She would get her favorite singles lined up so she could skate to them and then she'd do it for me.

"Photograph" was my favorite at the time.

The first beat would scream out of the PA system and I'd be heading towards the boards. The lights would flash and I would glide over the floor.

The wind would attempt to muss my hair, but I had a helmet of hairspray shellacked on my head. Bullet-proof hair was an understatement.

Mere wind wouldn't budge a hair unless it were hurricane force.

But anything less than that was not something I worried about.

I would skate as fast as I could, which was a feat in itself as my jeans were painted on.

My friend would have to lace up my skates for me and I would do hers because bending anything below the waist was tricky at best.

I would fly around and around the rink.

My head would be thrown back and I would just laugh.

As if the faster I skated, the closer I came to flying.

One day I was sure I would actually fly.

The song was never long enough for me.

They never are when they're good ones.

How much for that doggy in the window...

He argues with me constantly.

His lack of sleep has him functioning like a crack-head.

Yet I sit here waiting for him to come home from school.

I can't wait to see his face. I didn't see him this morning and I miss him.

If only he understood how I felt about him.

I can tell him until I'm blue in the face, but he has to "get it."

I sit by the window, just waiting for him to come home so I can greet him

He's gotten so grown up.

No more spontaneous hugs and kisses from him

"Ugh, Mom, Stop." He says when I kiss his cheek.

I'm sure when he grows into an adult and has his own children, he'll complain about plenty of things I do, but at least he'll never be able to claim I didn't try to hug or kiss him enough.

Rainy day Sundays...

It's what some people call a "miserable day" outside.

The rain is more of a drizzle which seems to get you more wet than an actual raindrop.

As you are coated by the heavy mist, you can't help but become aware of the fact that it looks like a cloud has parked itself on the tree tops.

The dampness of the rain only exasperates the fact that it's cold out.

The kind of cold which settles in your bones and chills you from the inside out.

If I can pull it off, I love these days.

Music plays in the background. Play lists help us groove the day away.

We tuck into our beloved purple couch. You on one end and me on the other.

The cats find warm spots to snuggle into.

You do crossword puzzles and I write down my thoughts.

The silence between us is comfortable. I get tempted to speak but hate to break the spell which has wrapped itself around us and fits us like a glove.

I begin to smile.

You look at me oddly.

Here I am, looking at you with a stupid grin on my face - for what appears to be no reason.

I love these days the most.

Just be...

After 4 days of vacation, I've finally unkinked myself.

Sleeping and laughter is just what the doctor ordered.

It's been months since I've taken any time off.

I didn't realize it, but I really needed this time to unwind.

The basic chorse were done early on and now I have nothing in my near future.

No work.

No chores.

No worries.

No plans.

My mind sheds the last few minths of stress. It allows the easy smile to re-appear on my face.

After a great night's sleep my bones feel good. My joints - instead of being stiff as ususal - feel loose.

I guess it feel taller, fluid in my movements, and content.

Vacation can let go of it all and just be.

Just be relaxed.

Just be open.

Just be fun.

Just be lazy.

Just be a little bit dirty.

Just be silly.

Just be me.

Manure, meet wind oscillator...

His melt-down was epic.

I hadn't seen one like that since he was 4.

As angry as I became, part of my heart was breaking.

Breaking for him.

I wanted to strangle and hug him at the same time.

I could see the frustration stirring up his emotions. I could tell that he didn't know where or how to start, but it needed to get out.

And it did - in one ugly torrent directed at us.

Fragmented thoughts screamed by us, hitting way too close to home.

Once it was all out, he looked a bit dazed. I couldn't tell if bottling it up inside and then exploding just drained him, or if he was just drained from the pressure of it all.

As I sat and watched him, a thought flashed in my mind, "Where was Superman when you really needed him? I need to turn back time and make it all better for my boy."

Wishful thinking, I know. But when there's not a damned thing you can do in reality to make your child stop hurting, even the absurd ideas start to sound good.

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe me."

Look what happens with a love like that --
it lights the whole world.

-Hafiz

Slipping down a dream...

I pull the heavy blankets up to my chin and curl my body onto my left side.

I am safely tucked into my new bed.

My legs kick about trying to find that perfect spot. My head grinds into my pillows trying to make that perfect indentation to cradle my dreams as I sleep.

One arm is under my head and the other has a firm grasp of the blankets.

I snuffle, snuffle my nose trying to make sure the cat hair tickling it won't make me sneeze and ruin all my sleeping prep-work.

I close my eyes and let it all go.

Your rhythmic breathing starts pulls me into your pattern and my body starts to really relax.

The cats must sense it, because they jump up onto the bed to find their sleepy spots too.

My eyes slam shut and I let my mind wander. As per usual, I review my day and think about tomorrow. I think about things I should do and people I should call. I try to think about that one thing I'm grateful for.

You would think that finding one thing you're grateful for would be easy, but for me it's not always. Some days are just black and I can't find the gratefulness thing within me.

Other days I can't pick what I'm most grateful for. There are just too many to choose from.

Is it a type of meditation or prayer? I don't know. But I usually fall asleep while I'm being grateful.

Snuffleupagus...

My feet drag as if weights have been chained to my legs. I only wish to wander to the kitchen to get refreshing water.

My head is bumbly. Like it's too big for my body. It messes up my balance and I blunder into things which apparently just need to be in my way today.

My bones ache. The bones I forget that I have - ache. Even my hair hurts today.

My nose is caught between being a faucet and being completely clogged. It doesn't matter. I can't smell anything and everything tastes like cardboard anyway.

Even chocolate.

I would whine but that would just take too much energy.

My life-force was sucked out of me in the middle of the night. As if a boohag took me for a ride.

Why is it, when you're sick, that the day just seems to go on forever?

Happy New Year!