No longer a soloist

I am trying to prepare myself for the week ahead. 

Several months ago, my family was dealt a devastating blow that has turned into the most beautiful of songs.  Next week the chorus changes and I just don't know how I am going to be able to pick up the melody.

First of all, if you know anything about me, you know that I am completely tone deaf.  Like, I can't sing at all.  If I were to karoake, they would kick me out of the bar because the patrons would riot-that kind of bad.  So this entire writing about a song is a metaphor for what I am going through--just to be completely clear.  😁

OK--back to the song of it.

For my entire life, I was kind of a soloist.  I did my thing.  I had friends but I never quite fit in anywhere-awkward looking and acting.  I never knew my place in the world.  My mom was crazy and my family life was not great-blah, blah, blah.  I made the people who were my friends into my family.  I still do this.  The people in my life were the strings and the winds and the horns of whatever tune my existence was at the moment.  They made my life much more lovely because they were in it.  They became the melody of the song I thought I was singing alone.  

And then this year, my brother and sister-in-love (because she is more than a sister-in-law to me--she is my sister in every perfect way she can be) became local to San Diego to handle some things they had to handle.  The things they had to handle are their story to tell, but suffice it to say, we banded together and tackled it as a unit-the way I always hoped to have family around me.  We took care of each other.  And suddenly I had someone nearby who was singing in harmony with me.  I was no longer a soloist.  And I didn't ever realize that I 

    1: could harmonize and 

    2: there was someone who wanted to harmonize with me.  

And together, the song is beautiful.  It’s better than I ever could have dreamed it would be-it’s my absolute favorite anthem.

Next week, they head onto the next chapter of their story in another state-the one they called home for many years before 2023.  

I am trying to look at the bright side of it all.  Things are in a better place for them to make this change.  There is goodness on their horizon.  They will be surrounded by other family to help them in every instance in which they might need help.  

We had so many beautiful adventures together.  And now we aren't only family, but we are friends.  Trusted friends.  My brother and sister-in-love have always been mentors to me from afar.  I don't think they ever even knew I looked up to them in that way.  But they do now-and that matters.  

We have conversations the way I have always hoped we would.  He is the uncle and she is the aunt to my kids in the most loving and "I am watching out for you kind of way."  -Not to mention, the humor they share when they are together...  

Next week my song changes.  

The chorus might change a bit.  The bridge might have a different tune.  The key to the melody might be in a different octave.  

We will be separated by miles.  There will be more phone calls and Facetimes then stolen lunches out together-or Kissy's famous spaghetti dinners.  

There will still be harmony.  

The song is now a masterpiece.

Take My Breath Away

I caught a glimpse of my mother the other day.  It took my breath away because I saw her in my own face as I looked in the mirror.  I literally gasped.  A few days later it happened again and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.  

What do I do when I start wearing the face of someone who caused so much pain in the lives of the people I love, and to me?  

My mother hurt people.  She lived a life of self-entitlement.  She acted as if everyone should serve her in every way.  She held grudges.  She was not kind, nor nice-because there is a difference between the two.  She didn’t forgive people.  She didn’t afford grace to the people she was supposed to love.  She constantly kept tabs on what people owed her and told them about it whenever she could.  Life was tit for tat.  For me, I wasn’t pretty enough or thin enough.  I was always the smart one, but it boxed me into a space where I felt the need to be perfect and do everything “right”.  I rebelled by not doing homework or projects for school and staying out past curfew, but in my mind I still tried to be proper in everything else.  

Car rides were silent. There was no music or speaking when we were in the car with the parental units.  Joking at the dinner table, the rare times we ate together, was not something that happened.  When I look back on it with clarity, I see there was no joy in the house where I grew up.  

Somewhere along the way, the worst thing people in my family would say to each other was that we resembled her in some way.  It was the insult of all insults to be compared to her.  It was often said in my direction, especially when people didn’t get what they wanted from me:  I was too emotional.  I was mentally unstable.  “You are just like your mother.”  

I am emotional.  Emotional is an adjective that means subject to or easily affected by emotions.  I love and grieve and I am happy and sad.  That it has tuned into an ugly judgement on people is sad commentary-which is for an entirely different conversation.  There was a time when me and my kids were traumatized by an abusive marriage-and for a time we were mentally unstable (we have come a long way from that time).  But I strived to never be like my mother.  Those words always did what they intended.  They cut me like a knife.  My heart always broke a little when someone would say that to me.  I learned that to be liked and loved I had to be quiet and stifle who I was.  I didn’t even know who I was.  

In my young twenties, I learned I had a voice.  I vividly remember a conversation with my ex-husband.  We were driving in Omaha, where we lived.  We just left his parents’ house and he was going on about something ridiculous-clearly those details didn’t resonate-and he looked at me and said, “You don’t have to agree with me.”  It was a lightbulb moment for me.  I started to use my voice, although tact and understanding of my voice and what I thought didn’t come for many years later.

Kindness, Grace, Forgiveness-they are all actions that need to be practiced and exercised in order to be rote.  I was fiery and angry at the world and stubborn and headstrong in all the wrong ways.  I took a hard look at myself and the things I wanted to be and didn’t want to be and started the changes that had to be made in order to live in happiness.  I had a lot of practice and exercise to start.  

Life wasn’t easy for us in the beginning, as we started a new life in San Diego.  We were healing from years of trauma.  But I was determined to start anew with a fresh perspective.  I decided to not let the crap I grew up with become a crutch where unhappiness and anger and ugliness was the only answer.  When people walked away from us, I decided to be there for them with love and kindness when they returned.  When I lost jobs, I decided to not let my fear guide my days.  When I needed to forgive people, I forgave without needing to be forgiven.  When I gave to someone in currency or experience or emotion, I didn’t expect to be repaid or need anything in return.  I shared freely, what little I had.  It didn’t always return to us in any form, and that was a lesson to learn along the way, as well-that it didn’t need to in order for me to do the right thing.  I learned to be humble.  There was nothing else I could be when we had only each other.  We were the underdogs in a brand new world, making mistakes everyday.  We still had joy.

We found happiness in the new adventures that San Diego had to offer.  We spent afternoons at the beach and every week at Balboa Park.  We sang songs in the car and re-enacted funny skits with strangers.  Laughter became part of our days.  

I started to live my life with intention.  I intended to have peace, joy, kindness and happiness and noise in my life.  I learned to not have to tell my side of the story to have tranquillity.  We laughed and sang and danced and we still do.  It attracted the people to me and to us who lifted us up.  It created a circle of safety where we could be sad if we needed to be and rejoiced in our happiness when there were things to celebrate.  And because life is life and bad things happen sometimes, we learned how to lean on those people and handle things and not to let us be burdened with the bad things that happen forever.  

-Deep Breath-

All of that to say:  I finally know who I am and I am not my mother.  

I have bad days.  I have many more good days.  I have beautiful friendships.  I have family who love me;  I am not defined by those who do not.  

I live my life with an intention of kindness, most days-because I am human.  I allow myself to grieve and be sad, but I don’t allow it to engulf me.  I don’t get angry when things break, because they are only things.  I say yes more often than I say no.  I pet all the dogs.  I run with children.  I smile and I laugh and I dance and I wear silly outfits with lots of color. 

These are all things that are polar opposite of my mother.  She did NONE of these things.  

So if I am wearing her face occasionally, as I age—at least there is someone who sometimes resembles her who is putting out the good things in the world that she was never capable of doing.  As I see her in my reflection, I will no longer gasp.  I will continue to be who she never was:  KIND, FORGIVING, COMPASSIONATE, JOYOUS.

And now?  A little more confident.

I know a man who...

I know a man who has lived a life of incredible service to others in everything he does.

I know a man who shows me an astounding example of what it is like to be an attentive father to his kids. 

I know a man who cherishes his life as a husband to his wife and the safe space they have created over 40 years together. 
I know a man who is giddy with excitement at the mere mention of his grandsons. 

I know a man who loves Disney as much as I do.

I know a man who has overcome so much in his life and has provided to those around him so that they didn't have to grow up the way he did. 

I know a man who watched out for me from afar when I was a young child. 

I know a man who, when I was a young adult, took me in with his own young family and tried to mentor me in the ways of the world (but I knew everything there was to know in my twenties--ha!--and although I heard him and apply it now, it took me a couple of decades to get there). 

I know a man who taught me that when I am without a job, it is my job to find a job--this lesson has made it it possible for me to flourish in difficult career moments.  

I know a man who taught me the importance of having adventures and fun times on my days off, instead of letting the world slip by without me participating in it.  This is how I was able to define the second act of my life: as living and not existing.  It wouldn't have happened without his guidance.

This man is my brother.  I am so proud to have him in my life.  There is no other way to say it, really. My brother has been someone I have always watched, sometimes through many miles apart for whatever reason was happening, have a life I aspired to.  We came from the same difficult childhood and found ways to thrive through adversity.  And life has thrown us adversity.  He has always been a bright star for me to follow.  

When we are young, we don't really notice the things that will take on meaning in our lives, as we live it and trudge through the trenches.  It isn't without hindsight that we see things that have shaped us.  He has shaped me in a million and one different ways-in a lot of the positive ways I have been fortunate to steer my days forward.  I am happy that in our adult lives, we can spend time together and laugh and lean on each other.  Knowing he is a phone call away and sometimes closer is salve for my soul.    

I was just reflecting today about how fortunate I am to have this man in my life and in the lives of my children.  

I love you, big brother!

70 pounds gone! And what life is like now...

Since January 9, I have shed 70 lbs that I have carried for far too long. 

Life is really different now and I love it so much more. 

It was 5 years ago, the year of my marathon, that I weighed what I do now.  I was really active and I remember how much I loved running at that time.  I loved it and craved it.  I've missed that version of me-active and enjoying every bit of it. 

A lot has changed in 5 years.  We went through devastation and heartbreak.  We have let go of things and people.  We have built up our life and strengthened the ties to those we cherish even more.  

Amidst that mass of emotional transformation, I also shed 70 lbs of my own body weight.  Since the time of my weight loss surgery and all of the preparation for it in January, I have noticed so many changes in my life and in my confidence.  The way I eat is different, for sure.  The way I see my body is different.  The way I move is different.  More than anything, I have more certainty of my own identity and what I bring to the table.  The transformation was not only on the outside.  Something clicked on the inside, as well, and I suddenly don't question my worth any longer.  

Some things I have noticed:

*Food:  I previously loved the whole ceremony of dining.  I loved being with friends and picking where we will eat after a run or an event.  I enjoyed figuring out what I would bring to delight all of our tastes.  Now?  Although I enjoy a good theme or party as much as anyone else, I am more mindful about what feels good vs what tastes good.  They really go hand-in-hand at this point, but in an entirely different way than they did before. 

Chris and I would stop for food at any whim prior to January.  We knew the best taco shop, Italian restaurant, our favorite pizza or even fast food stop in any location.  We just needed an excuse to not cook and there we were.  We still go out on occasion, but it isn't with the frivolous thought, or rather non-thought, we used previously.  

I cook all the time.  My meals are protein forward with complex carbs (veggies or a nutrient robust, albeit small, salad) as an afterthought.  A favorite in the former life was tacos or pizza.  Now?  Tacos are better with just the filling and pizza feels like a square fitting into a circle inside my abdomen, with the corners poking through just enough to let me know it is there.  A few bites in and the temporary desire for it flees my brain.  Cravings have become more non-existent as the days go on. 

I still can't eat a hamburger or chicken breast.  Something about the texture doesn't quite agree with the new me.  Maybe one day it will work, but not yet.  I do admit to trying once in awhile to see if it changes.  Protein shakes are a normal part of my existence now.  I don't fight it anymore and instead, I enjoy the nourishment and the ease of getting what I need from them, now that I found one that tastes good.  😀 Eating my way through Disneyland is a thing of the past...  

*The way I see my body:  This one is interesting to me.  70 lbs ago, I was round.  And I hated it.  I am still obese and although I look better and feel better, I still have a long way to go.  85 more pounds to go is my long-term goal...although I can and will likely check-in with myself on the journey to see how I feel along the way.  As the weight leaves my body, I remain cognizant of what I still need to do to be the healthiest version of myself.  When I was at this weight 5 years ago, I still hated myself.  I wasn't comfortable in my own skin and constantly focused on what I wasn't.  Today I celebrate the victories.  I am dressing in a more self-assured manner.  There are days I even feel pretty.  And for someone who was told for a long time that I was the smart one and not the pretty one, or that I didn't have the body of a runner, or that I needed my hair to be curled to look nice, this is a big deal.  I am proud of my progress.  

*The way I move:  I am starting to run again.  70 lbs ago it hurt.  At one point I was taking 800 mg of ibuprofen at a time for aches and pains, as if they were pieces of candy.  They made my existence in the big, round body of mine feel like I can make it through the day.  I would go home and slink into the couch, trying to forget what I was able to accomplish in years past.  It added to the hatred I couldn't help but heap on my already fragile psyche.  

Chris and I joined a gym together two weeks ago.  This week alone, I have met a friend before work to learn how to work the weights so that I can get myself into a routine and firm up and strengthen muscles that forgot they were supposed to do something.  I am thisclose to making plans to run in the morning with my beloved soul sisters again.  I am feeling stronger and capable again.  I can't wait to get back to training for a race and learning how to deal with a bike ride on the road so that those lofty goals made with girlfriends while we giggled over whatever we were doing at the time can become reality once more.             

*My own identity and what I bring to the table:  I remember writing last year about how I didn't feel worthy of much of anything.  I just didn't see it through all of the crap I have heard from people who I thought were in my corner for too many years.  Today I know that my weight and the way I look is the least interesting part about me.  The crazy part about this is that it was my focus for so dang long.  It reminds me a little bit of the line in the movie The Help, "You is kind, You is Smart, You is Important."  Somewhere along the way I started to believe it.  I am kind and I am smart and I am important.  I am also realizing it is my place to help spread that to people who have a hard time seeing it in their own existence.  I want the people around me to see their importance in not only the world and in their own life, but also mine.  

Everything feels so different than it did 6 months ago.  I am excited about the changes and ready to continue evolving.  

And don't be surprised if I remind you along the way that you are important!  💖

Happy

 Everyone said it would pass.  And it has.

The past year was full of ups and downs and gains and losses.  My boys went and came back.  The going was the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life.  It wasn’t the natural launch.  It was fraught with bad feelings and lack of communication.  My heart was as broken as it ever was without them in it.  I felt like I was living my mother’s life-with her children not talking to her as she aged.  And the prospect of having the same fate just broke me open.  I cried, no-I sobbed everyday for months.

Of course as with everything, I find that children breaking away in a hard way is as normal with other families as the rest of my life, which I always thought of being as different from everyone else.  But the point is: they are back and talking to me everyday and we are having meals together and having fun days at Disneyland again.  A year ago, I wasn’t sure it would ever happen again. 

Yesterday Trevor and I spent the day at Disneyland.  When I say we laughed all day long, I mean we laughed all day long.  It started with breakfast at Storytellers Cafe.  We saw Chip and Dale and Minnie and Mickey and Pluto.  We hugged them and talked to them and reveled in our memories together of the past decade at Disneyland.  We watched kids get so excited about the possibility of meeting their favorites.  We ate good food—I tasted bites of food and he ate good food is the more honest truth :)  — and we had conversations about everything and nothing at all.  When Trevor picked up the check because he wanted to treat me on my birthday (he, in fact, bought my lunch later as well), I was equal parts excited and impressed.     

We spent a lot of time in Fantasyland because some of my favorite parts of Disneyland are in the heart of the Happiest Place on Earth.  And then we spent the rest of the day in Galaxy’s Edge, the Star Wars land part of the park.  We are both Star Wars nerds and we just love being there.  I found myself on the receiving end of a detailed explanation of the history of the Sith. Trev is reading a trilogy about it and he had my full attention as he explained a part of the Star Wars history I had no idea about.  More than anything, I was interested in his take on things and I loved hearing that 1. He is reading again (for years he always had his nose in a book.  It has changed a little bit over the years) and 2. If my kids are interested in something, it interests me.  Giving me a look inside their brains and hearts is the most fascinating thing I am allowed.  I don’t care what the story is or the meme they want to show me-moments can be fleeting and I am here to catch and hold onto every single one.  It was in these breathings, I realized we had to go through the last year to get to where we are now. 

It’s not just things with Trevor that are better-it’s better with all of the kids.  I see them flourishing in their lives.  We talk and make plans.  I am so happy to see brightness in their eyes and smiles and laughs in their days.  The darkness is gone.  I am no longer consumed with fears everyday of What Ifs?  Yesterday with Trevor was an example of how far things have come in a year.  

With the boys back in the fold, there is more peace and levity in my days in every aspect.  I have noticed it’s been progressively more peaceful and fun since the beginning of the new year.  I laugh more.  My laughs are big belly laughs.  I feel joy.  I smile.  I am enjoying every moment with those whom I surround myself.  I am playing with my husband and with my friends.  And when we need to rest, we rest.  We are finally back to living and not merely existing.  

My friend mentioned to me the other day that it has been noticeable.  That makes me happy too.  I know it was noticeable to everyone when I was sad.  For it to be noticeable when I am feeling contented as well, shows balance.  There is a Sith/Jedi- dark side/light side correlation in there somewhere  😊

Part of the tranquility comes from letting go of the things and the people who dragged me down and made me feel less than.  During the times of disconnect with the kids, my little sister would remind me that I was a good mom and I was a good person and to not let their inconsiderate and sometimes mean words and actions get to me.  I have always had a difficult time believing in myself.  That’s what happens when your lifetime is spent with the wrong people.  I believe in myself now. 

I am a good mom.

I am a good sister.

I was a good daughter.

I am a good wife. 

I am a good friend. 

I am a good employee. 

I am a good person.

No matter the circumstances or if someone is mad at me or if there are tough times surrounding people or how I look or how much I weigh, I am valuable and I am deserving of good things and good people to be in my life.  And quite frankly, they are just as lucky to have me.  I am a good person to have in your corner.  

Whoa,  That’s a lot to unpack, isn’t it?

With all the good that has happened, there are some people and things that were sad to let go of, but that is a thought for another time…right now I am focused on the good stuff.

I was layed up for a couple of weeks in January for my weight loss surgery.  I was frightened and nervous and although it is good now, it was hard for a little while.  The girl who never knew how much she was loved would have been floored by the amount of compassion I was shown during this time.  And intellectually, I should know better.  I am a smart woman.  But deep in my heart is still that little girl who sometimes can’t believe that people really care that much.  I was texted and called and visited and messaged to check on how I was feeling.  It made an impression on my heart that will never disappear.  Never.  As my friend said when we were talking about this the other day, along with letting go of some of the physical weight, I am also letting go of the other trappings that weighed me down.  It’s been really freeing.  

I was shown that people really do love me. 

And then I started to love myself. 

All of that love is enough to make anyone feel happy. 

Madison

I have always wanted a daughter.  And I have always wanted three children.  I was blessed with two sons biologically and they are the light of my life, no matter how many grey hairs they give me.  I am so lucky that my wish eventually came through, just not the way I thought it would.    

A little over 10 years ago I met Madison.  I met her before I met her daddy.  Many of you know the story of how Chris and I met-and through Madison's mom and stepdad, who was my good friend from work, this little girl and I came face-to-face for the first time.

Madison and I didn't have an easy time to start with.  She was her daddy's whole world and he jumped when she wanted him to.  It was not easy for her to have another person in her orbit, especially at 9 years old.  

Through the years we have had our ups and downs, and we have grown to love each other.  

I have immense respect for her mom and always made sure to not step on Lisa's toes while building my own relationship with her daughter.  Madison and I cooked together, putting together grand feasts for Thanksgiving and other holidays through the years.  We baked a whole afternoon's worth of lemon desserts through the quarantine days.  She joined my run club.  We trained and completed 3 half marathons together, before we did one as a whole family-and then another after that.  We had family vacations together and weekends away.  I always loved it when she wanted to join me and Chris at Disneyland or for a weekend at Big Bear.  She has always been up to share an adventure with me.  

Two years ago, Madison spread her wings and went away to college almost 600 miles away.  She was so brave.  It's not easy to follow through on a big move like that at 18 years old.  And as hard as it was for her to not want to pack up and come home, she stayed there and built an existence where she thrives.    

Chris and I took a visit to see her world a few weeks ago.  It was so good to hug her tight.  We were only in her town for 2 1/2 days, but we had a lot of fun.  She had big plans for us!  We saw her apartment and she told us about their escapades.  It made me smile because it reminded me of my similar days in an apartment very much like the one in which she lives.  We got the grand tour of her beautiful campus.  We loved seeing where she is making her mark.  We wanted to spoil her a little bit and after grabbing a bite for breakfast, we took her shopping.  It is fun to give our kids what they want or need at unexpected times.  She and I had a good time going through jewelry racks together and picking out some cute earrings to wear.  We showed her our Air BnB and then she and I took a nap, while her dad did his own unwinding on his trusty laptop.  I very much needed a nap after hearing her plans for us later that night.  

Our social butterfly had some sorority plans for early in the evening, so Chris and I settled in to watch the Playoff game of Padres vs Dodgers.  We were to meet up with her at 10:45 pm at a fraternity for a party.  Two 50+ year old parents were going to a fraternity party-not to mention, waaaaay past our bedtime.  😂   It has been 30 years since I was at one and I don't think Chris has ever had the pleasure.     

At the allotted time, we arrived at the fraternity house.  We took a deep breath and walked across the street to see our favorite gal, eagerly waiting for us at the door.  Although we were skeptical about her friends wanting us there, they were all so welcoming and friendly.  Every single one of her friends walked up to us and introduced themselves.  One even took Chris' number so they can keep in touch.

We stayed 90 minutes before we decided to leave them to their own Saturday night fun.  As much as it was a cool adventure to be welcomed by Madison and her friends, we were a little out of our element, as the minutes ticked on.  We could only hang for so long.  

What struck me most was that in the middle of her college Saturday night party time, there was our Madison, having a great time and surrounded by people she trusts.  And they were all looking out for each other.  She had a circle of people watching out for her and she was watching out for them.  I saw her completely capable and mature and yet so much in her element of being a carefree youth-on the cusp of adulthood.  

I was really proud.  I still am.  

We have our kids in our homes for a short time.  Most of those moments we are pulling our hair out and figuring things out as we can.  We see them as babies and kids and teenagers.  And then they grow up.  We are only afforded a peek of who they are in their own circle, as they allow us those glimpses.  Being able to see Madison spread her wings and making smart decisions about her plans and how she operates in her day-to-day was such a gift.  To know that she is where she needs to be and soaring and growing and making her own place in this world, well, it made our hearts feel so full.  

After only a couple of days we had to head home.  We met Madison for breakfast, and she so thoughtfully brought us a gift as a thank you for visiting her.  She took the time out of her day to pick out specific things she knew we would enjoy, had it wrapped and presented it to us with her final hugs as we got in the car to make the 2-hour drive to the airport.  

We couldn't help but tear up a bit as we were on the road.  But the tears were followed by so many smiles.

Madison calls me by name, as appropriate.  And she refers to me as "second mommy".  I love it so much.  I am so honored to have that distinction.  Her mom and dad did the right thing by her when they split, always putting Madison first.  They gave her the space and the safety to love me and Brent (her stepdad), without feeling like she was betraying Chris or Lisa.  They really paved the way for us to have the blended family we all get to enjoy. 

Madison is smart and sassy and driven.  She is thoughtful and sensitive and funny.  She is loyal to those in her circle.  She has lived a lot of life in her young 19 years.  Seeing where she is headed, we know she will do amazing things with whatever path she chooses.  In the meantime, we will watch her and encourage her and cheer her on.

A few years ago, at the San Diego fair, Madison and I broke out in dance together when Justin Timberlake's song "Can't Fight This Feeling" came on.  The song is said to be about dancing, being happy and not caring what others think. I hear the song and it forever reminds me of her.  

I got that sunshine in my pocket
Got that good song in my feet
I feel that hot blood in my body when it drops
I can't take my eyes up off it, moving so phenomenally
You gone like the way we rock it, so don't stop

Under the lights when everything goes
Nowhere to hide when I'm getting you close
When we move, well, you already know
So just imagine, just imagine, just imagine
Nothing I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance
Feeling good, good, creeping up on you
So just dance, dance, dance, come on
All those things I should do to you
But you dance, dance, dance

And ain't nobody leaving soon, so keep dancing  

There is a certain growth and freedom in knowing yourself enough to dance and be happy and not care what others think.  I didn't have it when I was 19.  I saw a little bit of that in Madison.  I see it a little more every time we are around her. 

Madison: Don’t stop.  Keep dancing.  Just imagine.... 

I love you lots!   xoxo, second mommy

Being a Mother to Adult Children

Being a mom is hard.  Being a mom to adult children is harder than I ever imagined. 

As a mom, no matter what age the kids are, my heart is constantly on the outside of my chest.  I am more sensitive than I ever was.  I do everything I can to not cry far too often.  It has gotten better lately, but I work constantly---CONSTANTLY!!---on breathing deeply and not taking everything so personally.  And if you are a mom, most things really are personal, no matter what we do to think it isn't.  That makes so much sense, doesn't it?  ...I know it doesn't.  It's just what I battle all the time. 

There are so many days I watch younger moms with their kids and I am so wistful for those days.  I want to cherish the moments far more than I ever did.  When you are knee deep in the trenches, you just want to get to the next, bigger, easier milestone.  You want more sleep.  You want less busy-ness.  Right now?  I want all of it all over again.  I want the sleepless nights.  I want the snotty nosed snuggles when they are sick.  I want them to want me to be their mom again.  I long for the days when them needing the safety and the love of their mother isn't met with their doubt of it being a step backwards in their lives or something they need to discount in all of their adultness.  Not to mention all of the baggage of the mistakes I have made over the years that are amplified in memories as they grow older.  If I had the blue genie's three wishes, I would go back.  I would re-do it all....but only if it brought me back here to my new life with my husband and daughter and job and friends afterwards.  My wish would be to be back here without the wounds of our past.  

Chris and I were on the cusp of the empty-nest.  And suddenly we aren't any longer.  Our youngest child is away in school, living her best life.  School, new apartment, sorority, work...all the things that launching into the world looks like.  The middle guy...he is back home.  And as much as we were enjoying the empty nest, we are quite happy about him being home.  He left in a fit of anger and high emotions and lived with his love for a bit.  For reasons that is his story to tell, he is back.  I am just happy that we are a safe place for him to fall, even amidst the frenzied thoughts and feelings that are filling his head and heart.  I am glad that when he feels like there is nowhere else to go, he knows a call to home is where he will be welcomed, no matter what.  The oldest guy is still trying to figure out where he and his talents fit in his new reality after living a hell none of us wanted him to have to face last year.  I can't even explain the highs and the lows we see and feel.  Talk about backfire...  But here we are, on this new path, trying to figure it out day by day.  

The boys and I rebounded from a tumultuous existence when we moved back to California from Omaha in 2010.  We didn't know how to exist, much less exist in any semblance of a healthy manner.  We learned a lot through trial and error.  That trial and error made us closer for a time because we had nobody else.  As they grew older and became their own people, it was hard for me to see them as anything but my boys.  I didn't know how to let go.  I was probably far too involved--and I was intent on being the opposite of the other parent, who lived six states away and didn't seem as interested and vested in their day-to-day.  And then when we add in the neglect and indifference I remember from my own mother as a teenager and wanting the interest and the involvement from her, well....I may have overcompensated a bit with my sons.    

I reveled in being the strict mom when they were younger.  I wanted them to respect me and grow into good human beings.  I wanted to show them the right way. I loved them so much and wanted to do right by them.  I still do.  And then when it was just us, I loved being the one they wanted to spend time with.  All the while, however, I was making mistakes at every turn.  There was no road map.  Our life is 100% better now than it was.  We've had conversations over the years where the boys recognized we are changed for the better.  We knew we made it this far together, with people who were our angels along the way.  We learned to be resilient.  We forged ahead and made our life into what we dreamed about as we sang the lyrics to the song, Someday, by Rob Thomas, which we deemed our little family anthem.        

One of the hardest things I realized this past year was that togetherness I thought the boys and I shared doesn't always translate through their memories when they are figuring out their place and healing from the traumas they feel themselves.  I found that every mistake I have ever made was magnified and I was living them all over again, a decade + later with them as adults.  I was not afforded human-ness in their memories.  Things I thought we had grown from were in front of me all over again.  The narrative sucks because none of us are in the place we were back then anymore.  Despite all of the reminders and the backlash and the shitty things being said and done in our direction, Chris and I remained steadfast in loving them, holding onto each other for dear life while dealing with the pain that feels like the worse loss imaginable when your kids don't want anything to do with you.

The thing is:  We can't change anyone's mind about us.  And truly, what they think about us isn't our business.  And then you think:  Those children came from me.  We went through hell together.  How can they forget?  How are they be so influenced?  I had to really learn how to let go of everything...expectations, feelings about what they were doing, saying, seeing, who they were hanging out with.  I had to learn to see them as adults.  They are now men!  Tall, hairy, sometimes stinky, always messy men.  They have their own thoughts and feelings and direction.  I had to realize the distance between two points isn't always linear.  I had to realize they are going on the path that makes the most sense to them and to let go.  It's not easy to let go.  I cried every day.  Every single day I would cry at least once.  Sometimes it would last a few minutes and pass and sometimes I would wail the pain into the heavens, just hoping for some relief.  

My friends know of my pain the past year-and of the millions of tears I have cried in response.  My friends have shown me support and advised me on the things I should be doing.  These are things I have not done.  I always hoped the boys would come back to the fold.  I held on to the belief and the hope that the part of them that is me is soft and loving and forgiving.  I knew that if we took drastic measures in the face of some pretty bad times that it would cut the tie forever.  I couldn't do that.  Tough love doesn't work when there is so much trauma that we have come from.  

So, Chris and I were patient.  

We started to live for ourselves.  We took trips and found "us" again, after the last two years of madness.  And we were always kind.  We saw where we need to let go and see the kids for the adults they are.  We stopped asking when they would be coming home and where they were.  We stopped expecting them to pick up the phone when we called.  We stopped asking the unnecessary questions.  

We let go.

And then the calls started to come.  The conversations and the smiles started to return.  I was asked to have a weekly dinner with my youngest son and then he started to work in my building.  Now we have excursions after work.  He talks to me all the time now.  He is back to asking for advice and I am careful with what I offer.  No opinions, just support.  The other is coming around, too.  He has a tougher exterior, but I know his heart.  It's still golden.  And I am still patient.  I have learned to be a parent, but not to parent.  

My sister-in-law gave me that advice:  to be a parent and not to parent.  It was, quite frankly, exactly what I needed to hear.  I have taken it to heart.  And it has helped me to navigate this minefield of new adulthood.  I can love my kids and always be here and be their parent.  But I am done parenting them.  They know what they are doing, if not what they want to do, or even the general direction of their goal.  They also know I am here if they need me.      

Today we had to go to the funeral of our cousin, someone who I will miss.  Chris and my youngest son came with me.  We sat in the pew and in his sadness, my son put his head on my shoulder.  He knew it would be there.  He knew he would be comforted by mom.  It was on his time and on his terms, and suddenly I knew it will all be ok.     

I am a parent and my adult children will be ok.  And so will I. 

Someday by Rob Thomas

You can go
You can start all over again
You can try to find a way to make another day go by
You can hide
Hold all your feelings inside
You can try to carry on when all you wanna do is cry

And maybe someday we'll figure all this out
Try to put an end to all our doubt
Try to find a way to make things better now that
Maybe someday we'll live our lives out loud
We'll be better off somehow, someday

Now we wait
And try to find another mistake
If you throw it all away then maybe you can change your mind
You can run
And when everything is over and done
You can shine a little light on everything around you
Man it's good to be someone

And maybe someday we'll figure all this out
Try to put an end to all our doubt
Try to find a way to make things better now that
Maybe someday we'll live our lives out loud
We'll be better off somehow, someday

I don't wanna wait
I just wanna know
I just wanna hear you tell me so
Give it to me straight
Tell it to me slow

'Cuz maybe someday we'll figure all this out
We'll put an end to all our doubt
Try to find a way to just to feel better now
Maybe someday we'll live our lives out loud
We'll be better off somehow, someday

'Cuz sometimes we don't really notice
Just how good it can get
So maybe we should start all over
Start all over, again

'Cuz sometimes we don't really notice
Just how good it can get
So maybe we should start all over
Start all over, again