Before I climb into bed tonight I decided to share an excerpt from my book as a TBT (throw back Thursday) tribute.  I have been writing this book for several years often putting it aside but lately I have felt the urge to just finish it.  If for no other reason than to impress my grandkids one day.  This is from the book “Reasonably Happy – Confessions of a Catholic Mom” Chapter 6, Final Score Boys 3 – Girls 1.  It is about taking my daughter Jackie to a mom and me preschool:

The preschool offered many fun opportunities and curriculum.  There was the Dad and Me night where the kids would bring their dad’s, make crafts, have snacks.  Jackie loved to lead Dave all over the place and have him adhere to her every whim.   There was an artificial pine tree in the room in December and a basket of ornaments that the kids could put the ornaments on the branches, take them off, rearrange them as many times as they like.  In January they had a sensory table of snow with polar bears, penguins and snowmen to play with.  Then there was the Pajama Day where we could wear our pajamas to preschool.  How fun!!  I must have misread the calendar because I thought since it was a Mom and Me class that we were BOTH supposed to wear our pajamas.  As we pulled into the parking lot I saw some of the kids going into the building in their pajamas but their mom’s were fully dressed.  “OH JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH” I thought.  I felt my face get warm and my armpits starting to bead with sweat.  I waited hoping someone would have joined their little darling in the spirit of pajama day but no.  Just me!!  My heart was racing and I wanted to leave but of course every ding dang one of those mom’s was waving at us as they passed the car.  From the driver’s seat of the car they couldn’t see what I was wearing, weren’t they going to be surprised when I emerged.  Jackie was anxious to get into class and although I sat there trying to figure out what to do, I had no great solution.  I was going to have to take a big gulp and traipse in with my head held high.   I did not walk fast, I felt like a buffoon as we entered the room and saw the others cast their eyes in my direction.  They smiled with pity and then proceeded to explain the reasons they could not have worn their pajamas.  They had to run errands, a lunch date, a doctor appointment, didn’t have an appropriate pair to wear.  All kinds of wonderful excuses were being used to try and make me feel less awkward but even when their words turned from excuses to praise “you are such a good mom”, “good for you for getting into the spirit” and “cute pajamas, where did you get them?”  The truth was, sitting among 10 preschoolers for the next 2 hours would be spent with a plastered smile and warm, blazingly pink cheeks from my now elevated blood pressure, did not make me feel like a hero.

Trying to blend in with the other mom’s was exhausting.   Where they had been college graduates and professionals prior to having children I just sort of fell into parenting without planning or notice when I was 20 years old.  I didn’t hold any level of sophistication; I had no big successes or highly educated background.   I made lots of jokes and silly light comments to down play the slight inadequacies I generally felt.  Jackie was not on the same program as these kids and neither was I in the midst of the other moms.  I accepted the sweet encouragement from the teacher who noticed the gaps between Jackie and I vs. the other mommy, child combinations.  I clearly was aware of the differences and welcomed her cheerful approach which is all I really needed at the moment.   The kind teacher wrote me cards that would say how much she appreciated my outlook and humor towards parenting.   I did not question her intent as I knew that she probably really did like my simple, uncomplicated ways that was spiced up with wit especially in the midst of the higher standard parenting we were surrounded by.  I couldn’t hide my truths and though most are still way more evolved than me there is an older generation of women that know exactly where I am in this life and how it is to be me.  By my fourth child, I was happy to be home raising my kids and really didn’t have anything to prove or impress.  Despite this confidence at home, my sparse resume made me uncomfortable in the big world where you are subject to friendly interrogation and judgments.  Come on people- it’s preschool, can’t we all just have fun for a couple of hours!!

There is a plan in my head that I believe, if followed, will bring joy and continuity to my home forever and always.  It is a mom type plan where we can see it, prove it and know it will work, but the success in sharing the vision to fruition is falling short.  Way short.  For the most part I accept my defeats.  I am one parent with four children.  I am pretty sure my kids have figured out the simple equation that I am outnumbered in the adult to children ratio.  So the saying: “pick your battles”, are valued words to live by.  This week I chose the war on towels; or better worded – it chose me!!

It takes a while for most moms to intermittently lose their composure.  I would think we are wired in much the same way.  Our hearts in the right place, our brains are intricate and high functioning, our feelings have great depth, and structure is a tool that keeps all the moving parts functioning in a forward direction.  We can maneuver around obstacles that come into our way and we are willing to push through the difficulties, we even rephrase, or change our engagement as needed to create the best possible results.  We are pretty dang amazing – a constant ally working side by side our children so they can prosper into beautiful adults.  So come on kids, walk with us, save yourselves the grief and misery that will come once all motherly attempts at structure fail and we just plain lose our head on you…..when I say “we” I am referring to ME and when I mention “you” I am talking about Corbin.

I have breezed through the towel topic before.  The age appropriate annoyance is that all towels find their way to the floor of my kid’s bedroom.  I want to be as fabulous a mom as I can be without crossing over the line from parent to friend –  I like to believe I am a positive force with some measure of grace but I am not winning this towel issue no matter the approach.  Casey has been telling me for quite awhile that Corbin is the culprit but I don’t want to encourage snitching between siblings, their relationship with each other is more important than creating rifts between them.  I admit I have made a few concessions to that general rule as the kids are getting older, sometimes snitching is very welcomed.  Money has been offered for a name to an offense but only once and no one came forward.  Their code of honor is admirable….or their greed is going to cost me a higher compensation to coerce them into busting each other.  Currently there is nothing pressing enough that I need to go to the financial extreme.  Mark my words, I will if I have too!

Saturday was the breaking point and I lost it, so much so I didn’t even recognize the pitch that was coming from my mouth.  It definitely demanded their attention and within seconds a towel was delivered to the bathroom counter.  Sadly it was not a clean towel to dry off with however at the moment the options were a wash cloth, several Kleenex or a towel from the heap on their bedroom floor!  For the sake of keeping our house somewhat orderly with three stinky teenagers, I have contained showering to one bathroom.  It resembles a Walgreens that went through a mild earth quake with a wide range of cosmetics, brushes,  hair products to make our hair curly and products to make it straight, Stridex pads, nail polish, toothpaste, deodorants, razors, aftershave, perfume and oh so much more strewn on the counter.  There are four towel hooks, one for each of us and clean towels are folded neatly under the counter which leads me to the satanic outburst!  How do I end up without a towel?!

Let me tell you –Corbin does indeed steal a new towel EVERYTIME he showers and since he has already left his on the floor from prior showers, he just shamelessly moves along to everyone else’s (so gross).  By Saturday Casey, Jackie and I had all been shorted but “Mr. Clean” had happily pranced through the house with every towel over the span of a week, leaving the rest of us dripping wet and none too happy.  Where were all the towels?  Well, in a towel mountain right next to his bed, of course!!   It is a hard argument for him to dispute at this point though luckily, when it all came down he was not home, which quickly shifts to unfortunate, because the only thing worse than a furious mom, is a mom that has had time to contemplate the outcome.   The new terms in the quest for cleanliness included coupons to Bed, Bath and Beyond so he could personally purchase his own towels that would be his and only his in any color that suits him.  He also got to launder all the towels in addition to my mostly incoherent rant because when I get upset I lose my ability to articulate words.  It didn’t help to have his other three siblings behind me during the heated discussion answering the questions I was throwing out to him, finishing my sentences and I am pretty sure making faces and hand gestures all the while.  It’s pretty easy to conclude I am still losing the battle but I am confident I have gained some ground.  That’s what I am going to keep telling myself.

Hooray for me!!!  Tonight my oldest son will be home for the weekend.   I woke up so excited that I got to work cleaning bathrooms followed by grocery shopping to fully stock the refrigerator and pantry, which led to making a few of his favorite desserts.   Having all my kids at home is pure maternal joy.   He walks in like a king appointed by his adoring fan club! (I realize that is not how kingdoms work but I think you get what I am saying).  Everyone misses him so much we ignore his big old shoes, kicked off at the door to be tripped over, we will all snuggle into 1/3 of the couch while he sprawls himself out and we will gladly fetch him snacks and beverages before he can even think about being hungry.   He can tell us as many times as he wants that we don’t have to wait on him but we can’t help ourselves – having him home changes our dynamic for a brief time.   If we go overboard pampering him, he will always find his way back.  It is nurturing unlike anything he was brought up with but we know that this trickery is what motivates his drive home.   He in turn is the comic relief to our household.   He listens to his siblings stories and is a strong supporter of their interests.  Rules may be broken as well as other household incidentals but stuff is stuff, relationships are what is important here.   The conversations will be goofy, hilarious, sometimes strange, a little dirty because let’s be honest, boys never fully mature past 14 and with 3 son’s, it is going to be naughty at times.   His insights are appreciated and we are all better people by the time his visit wraps up.

He completes the circle and even though he is grown, living exactly where he should be, enjoying the freedom of being 24 and partially single, a.k.a. dating not married – he is still a part of us; probably the best part.  It is a big responsibility being the oldest child.  He didn’t have a choice in the job but he has been an outstanding brother……87% of the time.  Every so often I hear a recollection of shenanigans that I was not aware of, yet has surpassed the statute of limitations therefore is no longer punishable in Mom Court.  I can think of a few that I did catch along the way when they were younger, that coupled with the sporadic omissions, validates his 87% approval.   Besides, this is a decent stat and nothing to be ashamed of, I am plenty proud of him.

By Sunday he will be itching to get back to his life.  I have a special way of smothering.  Though I try, try, try, to contain the inclinations that manifest from my parental outlook, I usually fail.  It is sure to drive him crazy after 2 full days.   He is too old to appreciate my instincts to “help” and I am too Italian to stop myself.   One thing is for sure, he will go home knowing he is loved and there is always a safe place where he can relax and just be himself.   Now if he would just get here already!!!

It is the greatest time of the year!  I have never grown out of my childhood joy that fall brings.  Maybe because the best art projects at school were this time of year, perhaps it was jumping in leaves and kicking through the piles as I walked home or because it meant my birthday was just around the corner and Thanksgiving would soon follow.  My exuberance for the season is almost spazy.  I try to recreate the excitement I felt as a kid with my children, so much so that they no longer look up to oblige me when we are driving along and I shout with every ounce of enthusiasm “Oh my gosh, look at that gorgeous tree, have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”  I receive a dull “nope” in response with barely a glance.  That’s okay; I will do it every year so that one day when I am gone they will look at the trees and remember me.  They will know at that very moment that I am thinking of them and missing them deeply.  As a mom you have to do these kinds of things to ensure they will miss you too one day and that this will become a tradition forced on them to share with their kids.  In the mean time, I take every opportunity to point out the streets lined in trees.  I go out of my way to find locations that I know will have an abundant display of color, I visit all my favorite trees from years prior and the fall parade never disappoints….well it may aggravate my kids a bit but as for me, I am in a blissful state.

The brilliant colors coupled with a balmy afternoon.  Windy blustery days scattering leaves every which way like confetti to create a spontaneous celebration of fall!   Today, I happily answered that invitation to party with the season.  I started with a craft activity, followed by a warm comforting dinner and a hearty glass of red wine, just enough to toast the honorary recipient, Autumn.

Unfortunately my craft efforts do not match my passion for the greatest season of the year (spring will inspire the same wonder and spirit but I can’t think about that right now – today it is all about fall).  I think at one point I was top mom when it came to crafts but somewhere that title has been demoted to a lesser position.  I am content with our tiny pumpkins, glitter and some glue.  Nowhere near the extravaganza that I used to pull off.  Pinterest would crash if I posted the pitiful craft project I settled on but it was just right for Jackie and I.   The creation was enough of a mess that guarantees glitter residue finding its way onto our clothes and faces for weeks to come yet easy enough that we can be done within an hour so as not to cut into homework.   To complete the night there is a forecast for high winds and heavy rain –  oh happy fall!!

If people gravitate to the vulnerability of others then this is going to be a very purposeful entry.

Last week was our anniversary.  The second that has been spent separated….so I don’t really know how to acknowledge it.  Is it truly an anniversary?  We aren’t work towards or away from this marriage.  It is just there being lived out in separate houses.   Last year he was still drinking away his life.  This year he is sober of sorts.  He has been through rehab though I am not sure of his dedication to the after care and quite frankly it is not my business.  I may never know if he ever loved me or just needed me.  Can an addict love another person?  There are variables that would justify a form of love but the characteristics of being an addict seem to counter any real ability to love someone completely.  The cycle of addiction is text book – word for word.  It is like they are describing your “qualifier” (the addict in your life) exactly.  All the Al Anon quotes, encouragement, and acronyms seem right for the people sitting in the circle but it seems as though it doesn’t apply to me – I carry the burden no matter how many times I reject it, I chose this man with my whole heart to be my husband all the days of my life.  Now I am reading a new scripture, “You didn’t Cause it, You can’t Control it, and You can’t Cure it” – I run it through my head regularly but it makes no sense that I never knew the person I married.  Which one is he, the sober loving dad and husband or the addict that when life goes through trials will choose a bottle over his family time and time again?   There is a force bigger than I could imagine that threatened our family and it prevailed – it’s a beast that was allowed in.

I was arrogant and naive.  I believed I was getting the best Dave – his past relationships had been foolish in their frustrations with him.  They just didn’t understand him; they didn’t give him a chance to be amazing.  I was self righteous to think I could love him out of alcoholism.  That all he needed was me…..but here I am 2 decades later, going to the door to see if he sent flowers.  I even got back out of bed for one last look on the porch, but there was nothing.  No card, no apologies, no thank you’s and no flowers – pathetic.  I am the joke and my hope was wasted on a lost love.

Despite the truths of this heartbreaking journey, the day was not spent hunkered down in pity.  Not at all, I celebrated my children.  I attended an Honors Assembly for one of my sons, enjoyed the beautiful sunny fall day, listened to really great music on the radio (the DJ just happened to have mercy on me with an excellent play mix), I had a latte and loved all the little blessings right in front of me in which I have many!

I leave you with this:  Cherish your marriage.  Hug each other a second longer than you need to just because you can. I will always believe that in the journey, love wins.  Maybe not for me but for you. “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love”  1 Corinthians 13:13

I have a distinct unintentional talent that is mostly made of confusion.  I tend to cause a commotion of words which leaves the people around me so lost that they just move me along with a favorable outcome.  I imagine that in just two sentences I have already confused you!  Follow me, it goes like this; there is an event of some sort, for instance, getting pulled over by the police.  By the time I have articulated the jumbled mess going on in my head, the police officer just wants to get away from me, thus leaving without issuing a ticket.  Case in point, I was coming home from Corbin’s rugby tournament with the kids and one of his teammates, I got pulled over for speeding.  Before the officer approached the car I had my registration, license and proof of insurance in my hand.  He asked me if I knew how fast I was going.  “Sir, I have no idea where I am.  These boys just got done with a rugby tournament back there at the college.  I am trying to get to the freeway but can’t remember if this is the road I was on to get to the field because we stopped for milkshakes.  Do you know if I am going the right way (no pause) because I was just following along the road in hopes the cars in front of me were going to the freeway.  I have been looking for a speed limit sign but haven’t seen one yet so I just kept up with everyone else.  What is the speed limit?”  Mr. Police Officer is disinterestedly listening as he looks through the documentation I have handed over and says “it’s a 35, yes you are heading towards the freeway.  Please slow down, I am letting you go with just a warning.”  He definitely just wanted me to be on my merry little way and stop talking.  There was no begging, sensuality, crying or negotiations.  Simple aimless jibber jabber and a dash of mercy are often on my side.

This is not an isolated incident however I am not real pleased anytime I see the red and blue flashing lights.   Unfortunately, I got pulled over last week  because I had a headlight out.  Again, I had my documentation ready by the time the officer approached the car.  Before he could even talk, I handed him the paperwork, told him I knew exactly why he was pulling me over, explained that it had just went out the day before and that I would be getting a new one by the next day (all true) and then finished the sentence by offering him ¾ of the leftover 5 layer chocolate cake from Costco that was balanced on Casey’s lap.  As with before, he just wanted to go and off I went with a warning.

Clearly this is a workable quality in tight situations that not only comes in handy with police but it also proves successful when making merchandise returns at stores, school conferences, traveling and buying cars.  The plan going on in my head is intricate, well thought, researched when necessary and balanced with an understanding of their perspective.  I know the car dealer does not want to part ways with his fine used car for my 17 year old son without a ruthless profit but I worked in a car dealership processing the deals and know what kind of margin they are looking for.  I go in with as much knowledge as I can gather and then match their jargon toe to toe but I add so much extra information until they either give in or I confidently walk away, at which point I know we reached the final price.

In all instances of interaction, it is important that I maintain kindness and integrity.  It is so easy for this to become a match of stubbornness and conceit which I am then winning by being a bitch.  That isn’t really a win at all nor a policy I want to be known for.  Who can feel good walking away from that?  I want both parties to be smiling whenever possible, though, of course that is not always possible but making a good attempt is still essential.

This power is not limited to verbal encounters.   My actions can carry their own weight of confusion.  I am best left to myself for shopping, working and other tasks.  Definitely don’t ask me to play on your Rec Softball League; that is a whole other cluster of confusion for another day.  Anyway, it all gets done but it certainly doesn’t follow a straight destination from A to B.   I am not actually proud of this personal proceedure that occurs just in the course of being me though at times it does have its perks.

It’s just plain creepy to stalk people on Facebook.  Peering into lives of faces you have never met, looking at their albums, reading their posts and the comments of their friends, from that, proceeding to stalk the friend of their friend.  It is time wasted, definitely weird, you receive no gain from lurking around in the cyber world and yet I do it – so guilty!   I prefer to use the term “investigating” to describe this entertaining, harmless, hobby.   Stalking feels kind of dirty.  I won’t remember the names or information of the people I am investigating, I won’t be returning to their page, I can get all my curiosity quenched in one visit, so “stalking” is really too strong to be the definition.  I know for sure other people do this, many that would indeed qualify as a stalker not an investigator.  There are two reasons I even confess this as one of my top activities if given a spare half hour.  The first is simply:  to admit I do it when everyone else just acts innocent as if they have never considered prying around (which is known as lying).  The second reason is because I have run into a wee bit of a situation when I stalk….. I mean investigate.

I peek around mostly on my iPhone when I am away from my house and limited in entertainment options.  That seems like a fair standard practice.  The trouble is that I keep “friending” my unbeknownst subject.  I don’t mean to, in fact when they accept the friend request I am stunned since I didn’t realize I initiated the action to begin with.   Then I am annoyed, why the heck are they accepting a friend request from someone they don’t even know!?!?  Have some guidelines people!  It’s perfectly appropriate to ignore a friend request when you don’t know the person making the request.  Once they accept me (idiots) I then have to wait until midnight or later to “unfriend” the person so that I don’t offend them all the while, keeping the status intact of complete strangers.  I don’t need 1,000 Facebook friends to feel complete; I was content to have my first 20 when I started my page.  Anything after that was just a courtesy.  I don’t friend people I don’t know except if it is an error and I don’t want my friends thinking I am Facebook creeping on their cousin in Texas or their college roommate in Boston.  That’s supposed to be my own secret!  I know exactly how this friend situation occurs.  I identified it after about the 5^th unintentional friending.  I am left handed.  That is the reason.  The “friend” icon is on the left side so when I am scrolling down my fat little sausage thumb hits right where the icon is to friend them.   I don’t even know I do it until their acceptance, at which time as indicated above, I then lose all respect for them.  This flub of being left handed is almost ruining all my fun, almost!

  When I was growing up there was this picture at a friend of my parents house and I remember when I looked at it I thought it was so amazing that their kids weren’t junk.  As for me, I spent years trying to figure out how I could be somebody too instead of junk.  I truly thought the words that went to the picture did not apply to me. (This isn’t meant to be a sob story.  I have already completed the self destructive phase, attended plenty of therapy, until finally with time and maturity, I learned to embrace me for me, flaws and all). My childhood was not a particularly happy one.  I was scared of my parents, we were left alone a lot and I often felt uncomfortable in my own home.  I knew it wasn’t a place for me, as I got older I looked for every opportunity to be away from home.  What I did know was that I felt comfortable at my friend’s houses.  I liked the interaction between the parents, the parents and the kids and I liked how they treated me.  I knew I wanted that and as a parent myself now, I am grateful for the examples and role models that seasoned my childhood so that I would strive to do better for my kids.

As a mom, I was certain of my role to perfect all the imperfections of my crappy adolescence.  This has translated into a mom with determination that though I put out a great daily effort, wobbles between being a tiger/helicopter mom, June Cleaver (look her up if you need a visual reference), mama bear and an excessively enthusiastic cheerleader that should have aged out long ago, which can then be reduced into two words: hot mess!   Ever grateful to my kids for being brutally honest, generally through humor, when my intentions lean too far into one or more of the above mentioned “mom modes”.  Their fortitude and acceptance of my general goal is helping keep us on track and is necessary in making me aware of my maternal over managment.  I, in turn, devote as many hours of my day getting them on task, setting standards, enforcting rules and providing structure, etc. It is a fair deal as well as a job I am happy to have even with the withered social life and lack of sleep.  I get 18 years to ruin or encourage them.  So far I have more points in the ENCOURAGE column, my game plan seems to have traction.  I love the feeling of being somebody!

It is the first Friday of October, a gorgeous sunny morning and fall is in the air.  Fall is my favorite time of year.  So is Christmas, spring, high school prom and wedding season.  I also love snow days, any opportunity to call the whole day off and just watch snow is a perfect activity for me.

Back to this fantastic first Friday of October!  Tuesday my daughter, Jackie reminded me she didn’t have school Friday.  I then learned that the boys didn’t either.  It is Teacher Excellence day – which how do they really know if they are excellent this close to the start of school?… but whatever, give yourselves the day anyway and hopefully the ones that deserve it enjoy every minute and the ones that don’t really qualify will reflect and be excellent by Monday!  Being an excellent teacher is a gift to every young mind that enters your class room.  A huge thank you to our educators, you put a priceless value to our Catholic schools and your work is truly a mission. With this grand news of Teacher Excellence Day I was immediately refreshed and ready to conquer the remaining days of this week with enthusiasm.  I can make it through the early mornings and busy schedules of Wednesday and Thursday with little effort when Friday has a guarantee of extra sleep.   Today did not disappoint – waking up to sun and a quiet cup of coffee is the best day ever.  That may not qualify as “best day ever” status to anyone else but for my life, it is enough.  Except for the part where I burnt my tongue because I couldn’t wait for the coffee to cool ever so slightly – I am such a toddler sometimes!