11. Latch-key kids and dumpsters…being your own guru

I recently saw the quote, “I was a latch-key kid and I turned out just fine” and it brought back many memories from my childhood.  When I turned nine, my older sister went away to college in upstate New York and was no longer around to watch me after school.

At the end of each school day, I would head to the candy store across from my elementary school and buy one of my favorites–either Whoppers, Razzles, or Goldberg Peanut Chews.  The crossing guard would then help me safely across the busy street (Rockaway Parkway) that my school was located on and I would walk the remaining four blocks to my home.

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Once safely inside my house, I would tear into the day’s candy bag while watching my favorite shows, Dukes of Hazzard and Little House on the Prairie. I never felt unsafe or abandoned by my mother and father, who both worked 9-5 to help our family of four stay afloat.

Among my close friends, I was the only latch-key kid.  All my girlfriends had stay-at-home moms that greeted them each afternoon with a special snack, hug, and help with their homework.  I learned to make my own snack, was satisfied with the furry hug and wet slobber of my German Shepard-Collie mix, and worked out each math problem all by myself.

None of this really bothered me.  In fact, many of my friends enjoyed coming to MY house after school where we could do homework and play without a meddling parent around. So each day, alone or with a friend, I was without an adult until my mother arrived home between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m.

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It was only during the summer months that I resented the fact that both my parents worked.  It was during these months that I wanted to be like everyone else and have my mother around to take me to the town pool or beach where I could meet up with friends and family and enjoy beach picnics and treats from the ice cream man.  Instead, I was shipped off, like a boarding school kid, to a day camp located nearly an hour from my house.

At first I was quite resistant to going away to camp mainly, because I wanted to spend the summer with my friends.  My mother assured me I would make new friends–special “camp friends” that I would get to see every summer when I returned to camp.  Returned?!?! I couldn’t believe my mother expected me to go back again the following year!!

As usual, my mother was right.  I did make wonderfully special “camp friends” that first year.  I enjoyed many activities such as swimming, hiking, art, canoeing, and so much more.  I even helped lead my camp group to a first place win in the talent show by choreographing the moves to our “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” musical skit.

In addition to making new friends, I also discovered a side of myself that had yet to emerge—that of a leader. Among my school friends back home, I had always been more of a follower than a leader.  As one of the tallest girls in my grade who also went through quite the ‘awkward stage’ in my pre-teen years, I enjoyed blending in with the pack, rather than standing out.  But in camp, my wallflower tendencies melted away in the hot, summer sun.  I was not shy and was unafraid to stand out in the crowd…in fact, I kind of liked it!

On the last day of camp, we all boarded the bus to go to the movies together.  The new comedy, Airplane was playing and we were all excited to see it!  As we exited the bus, we eagerly chatted about who would sit next to who, what snacks we would buy at the concession stand, and how happy we were that we would be seeing each other the following summer.

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We walked single file through the parking lot toward the theater’s entrance.  As we approached a big dumpster in the parking lot, I watched as each student walked dangerously close to the dumpster and when arriving at the long metal arm used for lifting, they ducked under the metal piece as if they were doing the dumpster limbo!  One by one, each student ducked in time, safely passing under the metal arm.  Each time a student passed under, I thought to myself, “That was close…I’m not sure I want to do this.”

Soon, it was my turn and I had to decide whether I would step safely around the dumpster or follow all the campers before me and duck under the arm.  At the last second, I made the decision and like all the others before me, I followed their lead and began to duck under the dumpster’s arm.  Unfortunately, I did not account for my height and I misjudged my ducking, slamming my forehead into the metal arm with ample force.

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Within minutes, the bump on my head swelled to the size of an orange!  My counselors gave me an ice pack and had me sit in the theater’s lobby, not far from the tasty popcorn and snacks I would no longer be enjoying.  All my friends headed into the theater while I waited for my mother to make the long journey to pick me up and take me home.  I could hear the sounds of laughter coming from the theater and sat there quietly sobbing from the pain of my injury and the sadness of missing out on our end of camp excursion.

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So, what have I learned from my nine-year old self? Well, as a latch-key kid, I learned independence, something that is not given freely or at least early in today’s age of helicopter parenting.  I have tried to be less coddling with my daughter and have seen her maturity and independence grow in leaps and bounds because of it.

In that moment when I had to decide whether to step around the dumpster or follow the other campers under the metal arm, I had the opportunity to not only be smart, but bold and step around the path of ‘followers.’ I could have lead others behind me to do the same but instead, resorted to my follower mentality. For that, life rewarded me with a figurative and literal whack on the head!

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As I stepped up to that dumpster and prepared to duck under its metal arm, I ignored my inner voice, my personal guru, telling me what action I should take.

We all look for answers in our lives…answers that will help guide us to make the best decisions in our personal lives, careers, finances, etc. Many of us have our go-to advisers, those people we look to when we face difficult choices.  It’s important to have these people in our lives to give us an outside perspective that we may not see ourselves.  However, after listening to this advice, it’s important to keep in mind that—“you are the expert on you” and know what the best choice is deep within your core.

“I am serious” when I tell you that…

         You are today, and will always continue to be, “your own best guru!”

So, trust that voice and follow your own path and please, “don’t call me Shirley!!!” 🤣🤣🤣

guru2 I had almost forgotten this story until recently, when discussing the movie, Airplane with the man I’m seeing, J.  We were quoting lines from the movie, a game we like to play to see if we can stump the other…a game I usually lose.  All of a sudden, I was transported back to that theater and saw my nine-year-old self sitting pitifully in the lobby, with a huge knot on my forehead.  I shared the story with J and he suggested it would be a great topic for my next blog post. So, here is my shout out to him for helping me recall this memory and encouraging me to share it with my small, but hopefully growing, group of followers. 😘😘

Peace ☺ and love♥

7. On the 1st day of Christmas, my true love…

I recently took my daughter to see the Jones Beach Holiday Light Show, something I try to do with her each year. One night (sometimes more) each holiday season, we jump in the car and head down the Ocean Parkway headed for the beautiful display of lights along the shoreline.

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After paying the rather hefty car entrance fee, everyone turns off their headlights and enjoys the illuminated images of polar bears playing hockey, Santa fishing, musical instruments, angels, and so much more.

Halfway through the show, there is a turn-off where one can park and visit Holiday Village.  Here, families can enjoy hot chocolate, make s’mores on open fire pits, take a picture with Santa, or just relax and listen to music in the massive heated tent. Everyone is smiling, full of excitement for the upcoming holiday.  While under that tent, all the stresses of the holidays seem to melt away under the giant portable heaters.

On the night we visited, I experienced something else truly wonderful in the Holiday Village.  Upon entering the tent, hot cocoa in hand, we were met with smiles from perfect strangers. People actually stopped and allowed others to pass, saying “excuse me” if they happened to bump into you, and some even shared wishes for a Merry Christmas.  The warmth of the heaters was equally matched by the warmth of the people within that magical tent.

While sitting on one of the many comfy couches, my daughter and I enjoyed the holiday music playing.  As each song came on, those sitting nearby sang along and soon, we were all caroling together.  The last song that played while we were there was The 12 Days of Christmas.

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I’ve always loved to sing this song but this year the words hit me a little differently than in the past.  The area we were in was filled mainly with families of children along with both their mothers AND fathers. Now, I’ve been a single parent for around three years, longer if you take into consideration the years I was married and may as well have been single! During the past three years, I’ve had my hands full and the last thing on my mind was the need or desire to get back into the dating scene.

But 2017 was a big year for me.  I made many life changes and began focusing on my health and happiness, both of which I had lost sight of for quite some time. As the year went on, I started to feel a shift in my attitude toward dating and soon signed up (hesitantly, mind you) for one of those online dating sites.

Now, who doesn’t know at least one person who met their husband or wife on Match or eHarmony?!?!  One of my best friends had met her husband online, so along with her help and the help of other close friends, I signed up, created my profile, uploaded some pictures, and was off. But I soon found that this process was really NOT for me.

I know what you’re thinking…I have to be patient OR my favorite comment, “Sometimes you have to kiss many frogs before you find your prince.”  Well, what if I don’t have a lot of patience when it comes to the depressing process of swiping through people’s faces?!?!  What if I don’t want to kiss any frogs, especially those that are strange frogs that could have ‘warts’ or some other scary disposition?!?!

Needless to say, I have not enjoyed my time in the online dating scene.  If there is something positive that has come out of it, I have realized that I would much rather meet someone, as a friend called it, in a more “organic” way. This way does not include online surveys, cyberspace winks, or awkward photos of shirtless men in bed with their rottweiler.

So, getting back to The 12 Days of Christmas…have you ever listened to the lyrics??  “On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree…two turtle doves…three french hens…” and so on.  Even though the song was written in the 1700’s, it makes you wonder what kind of true love would give you such terrible gifts!

As I sat in that tent singing along, I wondered about my true love and the gifts he would give me…once I finally found him, of course. So, in the spirit of the holiday I decided to write my own version of the song to my future mystery man.

Here goes, starting from 12 and working my way down:

On the 12th day of Christmas, my true love should give to me…

12 jokes for laughing,

11 spontaneous moments,

10 simple gestures,

9 bedroom breakfasts,

8 warm embraces,

7 passionate kisses,

6 words of encouragement,

5 hugs for my kid,

4 vows of honesty,

3 love letters,

2 hands to hold,

and a lifetime of loving me.

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Whether you are surrounded by your true love or a tent full of caroling strangers, I wish you all a holiday season and upcoming new year filled with love, kindness, and peace.

Love and Peace ♥☺

6. Seeing red…through Barney’s Purple Dinosaur head

This week’s theme is something I am quite familiar with…embarrassing moments.  We’ve all had our share but some of us, me in particular, have had a larger share than most.  I used to think these moments came to me frequently because of bad luck or terrible timing but as I grew older, I realized that some embarrassing moments can actually be blessings in ‘disguise.’  It just so happens that in this story, I was WEARING a disguise—that of Barney, the Purple Dinosaur.

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I know what you’re thinking…you HATE Barney.  I couldn’t agree more.  I despised him before I was a mother, during my daughter’s toddler years, and even up until this day. His voice and his songs are like nails on a chalkboard.  When he begins to skip around singing, “I love you and you love me…” I have the strong urge to hurl…hurl something at the television and even hurl my lunch.  So now that we are on the same page about how strongly we all detest Barney, I can explain just how I wound up being him for a period of two weeks!

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During my freshman year of college in Boston, my father fell on hard times. He had spiraled downward after my mother’s death and soon after, he lost his job and my childhood home.  The university I was attending was an expensive one, and even with scholarship and financial aid, I could not afford to stay there.  I moved back to Long Island before freshman year ended and moved into an apartment with my sister.  My plan was to attend Nassau Community College at night and work during the day to earn enough money to return to my beloved Boston.  I got a job working as an assistant to the Box Office Manager at Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, which was the perfect location since it was directly across the street from the community college I was attending.

For an eighteen year old girl, it was a dream job.  I loved my coworkers, many of them around my age, and all the perks that went along with the job.  I could see concerts, Islander games, and any other event there for free.  Another huge perk was that I got to meet and even befriend many athletes, musicians, and other interesting people.  There was even opportunity to make extra money.

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Nassau Coliseum concourse (as it appeared in the early 90’s)

For two weeks each summer, the Coliseum hosted a big outdoor fair with rides, games, and entertainment.  They offered the staff the opportunity to work certain jobs, such as manning the ticket or information booths, but there were only several positions available so you had to act fast.  Unfortunately, I had waited too long to tell the big boss that I was interested in working the fair.

“I’m sorry but there are no more positions available,” the general manager told me.

“There has to be something I could do,” I pleaded.

It was at that moment, that my friend, Rich, who worked in marketing, interjected, “What about Barney?”

They both looked at me with mischievous smiles on their faces.  It was as if the trap had been set and I had found my way directly into their 6-foot purple snare. Desperate, I agreed to take the position, one I was assured was a “piece of cake.” For future reference, anytime anyone describes something as a “piece of cake,” be leery because they are most likely lying to you.

Wearing the costume was extremely uncomfortable and smelled as if hundreds before me had spent many hours sweating in it, which of course, they had. It was a massive costume made up of two parts-a big furry body and a huge dinosaur head.  The nostrils in the dinosaur’s snout were the only openings and provided an obstructed view of my surroundings.  For this reason, I had a young girl accompany me around the fair.  She guided me as best she could around people, over the many wires of food trucks and carnival rides, and stopped me frequently to meet and greet my many fans.  Kids and adults of all ages hugged, kissed, and high-fived me throughout the night.

In the summer heat, it was not long before I was overheated and begging to get out of the costume. But I had a schedule to follow and was not allowed to end my shift until 8 p.m. each night. Another rule was that I could not talk nor could I remove any part of the costume in the presence of fans. My favorite part of each night was when I finally made it into the building’s concourse, waved at my adoring young fans through the glass windows one last time, and entered the privacy of the elevator that would take me back to my office.  Once inside the elevator, the massive head came off and I could see and breathe once again!!

On the last night of my stint as the big purple guy, there was a concert going on inside the Coliseum. Thousands of Lynyrd Skyryrd fans had packed the Coliseum to see the great Southern hard-rock band play.  As in the nights before this night, I happily made my way with my escort’s help to the door leading into the Coliseum’s concourse at 8:00 p.m. sharp.  My young fans followed me and pressed their faces against the glass, calling, “Barney!! Bye Barney,” waving as they sadly watched me head toward the elevator.

It was at this precise moment that the opening band for Lynyrd Skynard had finished their set and masses of fans spilled into the concourse for MORE refreshments.  I say more, because it soon became clear that these fans had already partaken in MANY alcoholic refreshments prior to this time.  Soon the young voices sadly saying “Bye Barney” were drowned out by the deep voices of many men shouting loudly, “Barney…hey Barney!”  Within seconds, I smelled the stench of beer. Through the nostril holes, I could make out the burly, tattooed forearms of these men as they surrounded me and began to jostle me back and forth like a human, or rather prehistoric, ping-pong ball.

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Soon, the screams from the children outside were heard as they looked on with horror as their precious Barney was being attacked. The situation was becoming more frightening as the seconds passed and I lost sight of my escort.  I was about to take my head off and scream, “I’m not Barney!  There’s a girl in here that you are attacking!!” but I didn’t want to traumatize the young fans any more than they already had been.  I pushed with all my might to get through the crowd but each time I did, I was pushed back again.  Luckily, a security guard showed up and got me safely to the elevator.

Once inside, I ripped off the dinosaur head and tried desperately to calm myself.  My face was bright red, flushed from heat, fear, and anger as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. The security guard that rescued me helped me remove the rest of the costume and gave me some water to drink. Once it was clear that I was okay, we broke out into a fit of laughter that lasted the rest of the evening.

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That security guard wound up becoming one of my closest friends and we spent many a night reminiscing about the embarrassing (and frightening) moment when I was attacked by Lynyrd Skynyrd fans while wearing a Barney costume. It was our story…one that bound our friendship. Because I could laugh about it (or rather because I survived TO laugh about it), I was able to turn a negative event into a positive one.

So, when you find yourself in an embarrassing or awkward situation, one that you think you may never recover from…remember my story.  As the saying goes, you may not be able to control what happens to you, but you can control how you deal with it.  In most cases, your best option is to just laugh out loud and with luck, you may be blessed with someone wonderful to laugh along with you!

Peace ☺ and love ♥

5. Year without a Santa Claus…am I doing it wrong?

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Okay, so who remembers the movie, Mr. Mom?  Classic 1980’s John Hughes’ comedy starring Michael Keaton and Teri Garr, where a father who loses his job, must switch roles with his wife and become a stay-at-home dad.  I know this movie is not a Christmas movie so you must be confused right now.

There are many great scenes in Mr. Mom but the one that has always made an impression on me is the scene where Keaton is learning the daily drop-off routine when taking the kids to school.  As he approaches the drop-off circle, his kids plea with him that he is “doing it wrong” which is confirmed soon after by several parents echoing the same sentiment…”Hi, Jack.  I’m Annette.  You’re doing it wrong.”

*Click the picture below for the video link for this scene!

mrmomThis phrase is one that haunts parents often as they deal with the challenging task of raising a child who will hopefully become an adult who is happy, kind, independent, responsible, empathetic, brave, loving, loyal, generous, and a whole slew of other important character traits. There’s no manual to follow and when it comes to your first (and for me, my only) child, you really are in uncharted territory.

As I just mentioned, my daughter is an only child.  The past five years have been especially rough on her as life has forced her to mature faster than most kids her age. In 2012, at the age of 8, she and I became co-caregivers for my sister who was diagnosed with an aggressive form of the blood cancer, multiple myeloma.  The next two years were spent in and out of hospitals in Long Island, New York City, and eventually a last-resort hospital in Little Rock, Arkansas.

I tried to keep life as normal as possible for my daughter during this time but anyone who has had any experience with cancer knows there is nothing “normal” about life with cancer.

During my sister’s illness and leading up to her death, I constantly second-guessed my decisions about what to expose my daughter to or hide from her. Death is a part of life and I knew this early exposure would not only frighten her but also make her stronger.  It had done the same for me when I lost my mother at age 15.

It was also during this time that my ex-husband and I were in the process of a divorce and soon she had to deal with him leaving the state and moving across the country.

Luckily, with the help of friends, family, support groups, and our love for each other, we survived these difficult years and are still standing today stronger than ever.  I’m proud of my decisions and though I do allow regret to creep in every once in awhile, I am at peace with the past and hopeful for the future.

So how does this all tie into Santa Claus, you might ask??? Well, as I said, my daughter has had to mature quite rapidly. Yet in many ways, she is tightly clutching onto the remaining aspects of childhood she has left.

Quickly approaching 13 and dealing with the changes that go along with that age, she still believes in Santa, the magical elves, and all the other mythical figures we share with our children.  Or at least she did, until this past summer.

As we prepared for another start of our school years, me as a 6th grade teacher and my daughter as a 7th grade student, we chatted about what she may need for school.

“I really need a laptop computer but don’t worry, I’m going to ask Santa to bring that for me for Christmas,” she told me with the sweetest, most innocent look on her face.

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Now, to be clear and before I go any further, my daughter had posed many questions in the previous year about the logistics of Santa but never point-blank asked me if he was real or not.  She had even spoken in great length about how she could not understand why many of her classmates thought their parents were Santa.  This is mainly because the Santa gifts I had given her in the past were ones that I had told her I wasn’t really thrilled about (video systems, video games, and the over-priced fad of the year). Each time she would bring Santa up, I debated whether that was the moment to finally tell her.

Many have opinions about the right age and best way to break “the news.” I listened to the advice given by friends and “experts” on the internet that shared special letters and excursions to go on that would gently deliver the truth.  But because I knew the news would crush her, especially because Santa would lead to the truth about her elves, Smiley and Holly, I put off choosing a time and method…right up until that moment when she mentioned the laptop from Santa.  In that moment, it was as if my body became possessed with the Grinch or the Heat Miser, and I blurted out, “We have to talk.” She took one look at my face and she knew.

grinch               heatmeiser2

As the words spilled from my mouth, there was no eloquence, no sweet story about how Santa is in all of us and no one can ever take away the magic of Christmas…all of the things I had read I should do.  The more I talked, the more upset she became and soon we were both crying.  She then asked to be left alone and each of us retired to our bedrooms and had a good cry.  All I could think about was the scene from Mr. Mom and I kept telling myself, “You are doing it wrong.  You have done it ALL wrong!!”

When she emerged from her room, we hugged and I did the only thing I could think of to make the situation better…I took her down to Best Buy and bought her a shiny new laptop for school!  Since then there have been a few negative incidents…one involving her scrawling the word “lies” in the Target Christmas catalog.  But there have also been some positive effects too…the best one being that SHE now moves the elves around the house daily and has quite the creative flair for it!

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So what have I learned from this experience??? Well, I guess it’s that we all make mistakes and sometimes we “do it wrong.”  But sometimes, we have to just go with the moment and let our maternal (or paternal) instincts kick in.  Some moments require the special touch, the letter or eloquence of a poem to soften the blow.  While other moments call for that parental “ripping off of the band aid” when it’s just time to tell them that this is life.  In those moments, we prepare them for future losses and heartbreaks because life doesn’t always deliver news gently. And the most important thing we can do after we  dry their tears, is remind them of the many blessings they still have in their lives.

Peace 😊 and love ❤️

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4. Sock, sock, shoe, shoe…what about you?

As I mentioned in my last post, this week’s theme is:  The Quirks of Daily Routine.  I say quirks here because what is normal for some, may seem absolutely crazy to others.  From the moment you wake up until the moment you rest your head on the pillow each night, you follow certain patterns or routines. I had never really given the subject much thought until this past week when a friend and neighbor posted a question on Facebook about whether there were others out there, like herself, who put socks and shoes on in the order-sock, shoe, sock, shoe.

allinthefamily**Click the picture above for the link to the video clip!

This post soon blew up, mostly with comments calling my friend and her routine insane.  Time and again, she stood her ‘one socked and shoed’ ground, deflecting all the negative comments with humor and many smiley emojis ☺☺.

Even when a friend challenged her by discussing the dangers of her routine, she did not falter.  The question was posed, “If a fire or other emergency were to occur in the middle of your one-at-a-time foot-dressing, wouldn’t it be dangerous if only one of your feet were protected from the cold and dirty ground when you ran outside to safety?”

A valid point, I thought.  But my friend adeptly dealt with this scenario stating that because her one foot was so well protected with both sock AND shoe, she could stand on that foot, like a flamingo and hop to safety. She further argued that at least she would have one dressed and protected foot whereas everyone else would soon have two cold feet in their single sock layer!

After reading her comments, I was intrigued by this sock-shoe dilemma so I turned to the one source that is always there for me when I am faced with life’s big questions…Google!  It turns out this very debate was first exposed in an episode of the 1970’s hit comedy, All in the Family. In the episode titled, Gloria Sings the Blues, Archie Bunker tries to correct his son-in-law, Michael (Meathead), who puts his sock and then shoe on one foot. Like my friend, Meathead is left defending his routine up until the time Archie storms out of the room ordering him to start doing it the “right way.”

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Which leads me to the bigger question here…who decides what the right and wrong way is to put on your socks and shoes?  Or the direction you load the toilet paper?  Or the way you live your life?

At the end of the day, the only person that can decide the right way is YOU.  People may not like your choices or decisions.  They may call you crazy and criticize your ways. But you keep doing you and face that criticism with humor and lots of smiley emojis ☺☺

And if the negative energy the nay-sayers send your way start to bring you down, you just hop, like a flamingo, as far away from them as you can. Your one strong, protected foot will carry you further in life because you are not afraid to do things YOUR way,

2. I’m back….thanks to Amazon Prime

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Countless books have been written and movies produced about how people, most of them women, have found their way back to the person they once were.  Remember the passion when Stella Got Her Groove Back?  Wasn’t it inspiring to watch Julia Roberts Eat, Pray, Love?  And who could forget Robin Williams finding his way while donning facial prosthesis, a grey wig, and the fake, old lady boobs of Mrs. Doubtfire? While each of these characters chose different vehicles to make their way back to their true selves, each had to peel away at the layers of discontent that had built up over the years, mainly after being in unhealthy relationships.

stella                                 eatpraylove2

Okay, so I have not had the pleasure of a passionate night with Taye Diggs nor have I nourished my palate and soul while traveling through Italy, India, and Indonesia. As for the old lady boobs, I am proud to say that at 45, mine are still right where they should be!

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What have I done to “be back” you may ask?  I have stopped (or rather radically reduced) GIVING!!! For too many years my life consisted of me giving ALL my time and energy so that the people in my life were cared for and content.  Sounds admirable, right?  Wrong!! Because I never put ME first, I soon found myself further and further from the person I used to be, the person that I really loved to be.  I forgot the girl that wrote poetry into the wee hours of the morning.  I lost the girl that searched for hours to find the beauty of a babbling brook in Colorado. I abandoned the girl that dreamed of a man who would be loving, kind, and treat her like a precious gem.

For years, my friends and family had been trying to get me to realize how many concessions I had been making and urged (some more vocally than others) me to leave my bad marriage.  I did finally do just that (though years too late) but unfortunately I still continued on the path of putting myself last.  Not that this is an excuse, but I do have a daughter who is still trying to grasp our new normal and accept life as a kid with a mom and dad that live in two homes.  Add to that that my ex is not exactly father of the year and constantly disappoints my daughter which has resulted in me–a single mom who works her ass off to fill both parental roles.

I’m a sixth grade Science and Language Arts teacher.  I tell you this because I am about to school you on something I teach my students-plot diagram.  It shows the progression of a novel from start to finish.  Like a ride on a roller coaster, the plot ascends, highlighting the problem or conflict, then reaching a climax or high point of the story, and eventually descends toward a resolution.  Somewhere before the end of the novel there is a ‘turning point,’ an event that changes the course of the novel and the actions of the characters.

Last night my story reached its turning point. While having a nice dinner with my daughter, my ex kept texting me asking questions about my daughter’s Amazon Christmas wish list that I sent him.  He was confused about what Prime meant and what he had to do and if he needed to get Prime to get the gifts she wanted.  His texts were constant and interrupted the nice meal we were having after a long week. Having Prime myself, my first instinct was to do what I always have done and offer to take care of the order to save him time, effort, and money.  It was a knee-jerk reaction, one that I luckily caught in time.  As if a giant hand descended into the dining room of The Cheesecake Factory and slapped me, I said to myself, “Enough!!!”  I then text him that I was out and he would have to figure it out on his own.  At that moment I felt so proud of myself and truly free and in control.  In that moment, it was as if I had written the best poem of my life or found the most serene babbling brook in all of nature.  Most of all, it was in that moment that I realized that I was a precious gem and treated MYSELF as such. By putting my needs and happiness in front of everything else, I became PRIME in my life and my decisions.

So, thank you Stella, Julia, and Robin and most of all thank you Amazon Prime.  Who knew you could offer me so much more than just 2-day free shipping?  I will definitely be renewing my membership!!

May you all find yourself as often as you need to until you realize your worth.

findyourself

Peace and love 😊 ❤️

1. Why am I here? What is MY gift?

Do you know the answers?  Why are you here?  What is your purpose? Do you know your passion?  What do you love to do?  While I have experienced glimmers of some answers to these questions, I am still searching.

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Before you read any further I must warn you—I am a lover of figurative language.  I love my metaphors and similes and enjoy dabbling in analytically awesome alliteration.  See what I did there?  So here goes—Life’s a journey, right? You move along the path of life (like in the board game but without the pink and blue pegs) headed for a destination, whether it’s temporary or long-term.  Some people have a very specific plan as to where they are going and have an internal map and detailed itinerary to guide them.  But when they get there, they often realize that they may have missed out on amazing sights and experiences.  Filled with regret they wonder, ‘What was the big rush, anyway?  Should I just head back and visit some places I missed along the way?’

Others live more spontaneously, taking side trips, without any expectations or deadlines for their destination. They don’t use maps and they don’t ask for directions along the way.  But these travelers often spend so much time on their journey that they forget their final destination and having grown weary from their travels, wake up one day feeling lost and uncertain of the future.  Wrestling with fear they ponder, ‘Did I use my time the best I could?  How can I get back on track and make up for lost opportunities?  If I had followed others on the path, would I be more successful and fulfilled now?’

“There is only one map to the journey of life and it lives within your heart.”  -Willie Nelson

If I had to put myself into one of these two categories, I would be in the latter group. My life so far has been filled with beautiful sights and loving people but the road has been littered with much tragedy and loss.  I won’t make excuses.  My path was never a perfect one.  But each time I lost an important person in my life to heart disease, to Alzheimer’s, to cancer, it was like I broke down on the side of the road and needed repair. Luckily, the strong people in my life showed me how to persevere and rise above the difficult times.

Over the last year I have been working hard to get back to the place I need to be and the first step of my journey involves reminding myself of the things that bring me joy, those things that guide me toward a life of purpose, passion, and love.  To get there it was necessary to start this blog because my first joy was writing.

Writing has always been special to me.  It’s always been the one thing I knew I was “meant” to do…the one thing that brought me pure joy and satisfaction. When I was in elementary school, I discovered this joy. I would spend hours happily creating poems and short stories and then eagerly share them with anyone who would listen.  After losing my mother at age 15, writing was my escape and my therapy as all the emotions I held inside could only be released via a pen and journal.

In my early twenties I discovered my second joy-travel and my journal recorded every new site, sound, and feeling that each new place I traveled to would bring.

When my daughter was born in my early thirties, I found my most monumental joy-motherhood.  Being a mother had always been a priority to me and as a ‘motherless mother’ I seized and continue to seize each moment to make new memories with my daughter.

So far each decade has brought me onto the path of a new joy.  Amidst the heartache of each decade, I have discovered friendship, love, and laughter.  The great joy of my forties is still unknown although one could say that my commitment to health and happiness is a strong contender. The chapter is still unfinished and I am hopeful that there are still joys left to be discovered and celebrated.

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I love this quote and the author, Richard Bach. The quote can be seen from so many perspectives.  Are we the clouds and the sky is our path to follow?  Or are we the sky filled with the various clouds in our life…stormy, dark clouds of difficulty and loss and fluffy, white clouds of happiness and love?  Either way you see it, Bach wants us to know that the key to our journey can be found, if we only look in the right place past the barriers that block what is most important. I look forward to sharing my search with you and learning about your gifts, purpose, and passion.

Who do you think we are-the clouds or the sky?  Have you discovered your gift yet? 

Peace and love ☺♥