Category Archives: relationships

Gentle Words

I used my words harshly today. I didn’t mean to, it was just the way they came out. I admonished instead of explaining. I scolded instead of entertaining the idea that the meaning of what was said was misunderstood. In brought down instead of listing up. I sent him off to school with out a smile on his face and now I feel a profound sense of guilt.

As a parent I know that it is easier to jump in at any moment and criticize instead of taking the time to understand. You get caught up in what is going on that instead of reaching out and finding the child within yourself you look at it at without taking the time to break it down as if you were the child yourself. It is one of our biggest fats. It rips our children to shreds as it can tear apart their small psyches. I try to not jump onto the bandwagon but sometimes I slip, this morning was one of those times.

I find it lately, specially during this time of year I get so caught up in my own head that I forget my mood effects theirs. They want my attention and love and I am just looking for an escape from the memory of yesteryear. I have not been paying the best attention to the world around me. But they are my world. I need to pull myself out of this funk. I need to put my priorities back in line. Catch up on what counts. Write more, sleep less. Stop letting the memories burden me and really just enjoy the now. Speak gently and let those snap judgements fall away. Later I’ll apologize for my harsh words and though I know I’ll be forgiven I hope that I didn’t leave a permanent mark. 

Be kind to yourself and to others

Xoxo

Life after the Faerietale; View from the patio

The chalk that stained the concrete with pictures is nothing more than dust by now and the laughter has all but faded. The sheet that covers the bikes is now faded and torn and the furniture has a fine coat of dust or pollen on it from remaining unused this past season. A mere memory of what this place used to be, the joy that it used to hold. As my eyes scan the objects that remain on the stone patio a breath escapes my lips and I close my eyes remembering the day I saw it for the first time.

The sun was shining and the day was hot, the laughter of my daughter was music in the air as she moved from room to room inside the empty apartment. I had only been there ten minutes and already I knew it was going to be my home. As I stood beneath the awning of the low stone wall of the patio I envisioned the glass table where we could sit while we ate outside. I saw the kids drawing on the cement in chalk and blowing bubbles out on the grass. I pictured a small grill that we could use on days like the one we were having, when we would have people over to show them how happy we were. I imagined warm nights where we would sit outside and talk and laugh for hours just enjoying the air, the stars and each others company. Everything about this place screamed home but this patio, this patio screamed a future that gave me a smile I could not wipe away.

As I run my fingers over the glass table I remember the nights where conversation turned into arguments. I feel the smiles turn into tears and wince as I can almost feel their wetness hit the surface of the table as vividly as if it was happening right now. I force my eyes open so the sound of silence takes over the sound of anger and the wind rushes in to usher away the pain that happened so very long ago. My eyes catch something blue on the ground and I laugh, a piece of chalk yet to be ground into dust as the rest has been long since used up and I bend to write the kids names on the ground. As I admire my handiwork I smile and remember how many chalky footsteps covered the carpet after hours of drawings took place right here and thousands of memories were made. I let those memories seep in to replace the ones that try to hard to drag me down.

Taking a seat in a chair that has long since felt a warm body I idly draw in the dust on the table. Hope, dreams, forever…words I trace into the residue on the table. Words I believe in for me, for them and those words give me a strength that I know I have inside. I hear laughter in the house, this time I realize though that my house is already full. Full of love and warmth, the house which is already mine and I don’t have to reach out to grab that dream because I already have it. So what if the dream is different than when I held this moment for the first time. The laughter is still there, the opportunity to make memories worth smiling upon is on me now. I seize the moment to grab a rag and dust off the table. The words I drew are gone but the sentiment is till there. The sentiment to dream a new, the hope always, to love forever. The laughter in my house is sweet music to my ears and I look around at the patio with a glimmer of expectation in my heart. There will be laughter again, sweet memories to dwell on, chalk filled days and wish filled nights. I can feel it in my soul.

Unexpected Connections


In a vast and changing world there  are days when the tides just pull you along. Your arms flail desperate to keep your head above water and not is all smooth sailing. On those days, as your gasping for air, you wonder if you will ever see the light again. If by some miracle you will ever come out on top.

They suddenly a ping. A low noise goes off like a beacon in dark and you are saved. The sun comes crashing through the darkest night and hits your face. The pale becomes rosy, the shadowed becomes sparkling, the number becomes warm. All is be washed in smiles because of a single kindness. A single thought.

Uneglected connection that you have been waiting on. Wacting for. Waiting by. DIsn’t even know you were searching. ALloyd these questions arise. Will it? Won’t it? Dare I? But you shove them away for the kindness of a smile. Your batter away the negativity especially surrounding where you are, whowever you are….ust for that feelinh. that feeling when you got. Whence you snuck iinto the routine. Whence you realized, that for the first time. In a long time. Your were the reason, for someone’s smile

In the middle of a memory

The leaves are in the middle of their change. Stuck between green and red. Some orange and amber. Other the brightest yellow the eyes can see. The wind is starting to crisp and the air…the air is tumbling across our senses with the smells of love. The smells of spices and Woodstock. Of warmth and cider. Of nights yearning to be copied up in our hoodies just aching to be scared around fires full of laughter. It’s the time of the year that I look forward to. The time of the year I feel free. The time of the year my smiles are big and my arms open wide to accept the hugs of the giggles of Littles after a full day of pumpkin picking and candied apples…

But I’m stick. Up swept by emotion I can quite grasp, and as much as I want to smile I want to scream. As much as I want out I want this season to pass. As many things as I want to do the memories all tie to those two perfect years that I made them with you. And I can erase and erase and smile through and still they settle into the minds of the children. And there’s nothing I can do. You’ve resurfaced. There’s been questions of which I have no answers. Only to talk about you in the past. As if you’ve died and been buried like those we’ve had to say goodbye to. And that’s sad, that you’ve become a corpse. Just another memory. When you could have stayed so much more to them. To all of us. And you chose instead to commit and act so heinous it only equates to death. 

So we bury you, a few times a week. For you are not that far under the ground. We lay flowers at your site and move on ahain. Rebuilding out lives on top of what you left of us. I am determined to do these things without you. Though it tears at my heartstrings so. The colors are not as vibrant and the wind not so sweet. But I will still love this time I have. This is my season. These are my days. I will fight forward and one day I will be free…from the middle of a memory

I’m ALLOWED to have a BAD day!

I’m just having a bad day. Isn’t a girl allowed to have a bad day? For no reason other than she woke up sad. There’s a lot if things going on and I’m having a bad day. I feel scared, alone, exhausted. I feel netvous anxious. I feel like the tears are coming from no where and I can’t explain them. You ask me why and I say I don’t know. I can’t tell you why I feel this way. I can tell you the kids are just fine. This has nothing to do with my miraculous little creatutes. This has nothing to do with their father. He’s alrite in my book too. 

This has to do with the fact that I feel so very alone. That words and memories and songs keep playing through my head like faded memories and I can’t make themstop. I can make them go away. That I’m fighting this battle, this amazing, fantastic journey and I’m doing it all alone. And yes I’m fucking proud of nyself. It has nothing to do with pride. It has to do with I wish I had someone to hold my hand. To tell me ill be ok. To hold me through my what if and im scareds. To tell me they were right there beside me all along and you know what I don’t. And I’m mad. And I’m sad. And yes I’m allowed to be sad. I’m allowed to want to curl up and be held and just worry for a little while. 

I have all these emotions. I’m feeling all these things. This year’s has been so hard and I’ve been through so much already. And yes this is my journey, my step towards a better me, a healthier me, a new life. But I’m fucking scared. I’m scared that this is how it with always be. An uphill battle. Me against the world. With nothing soft to come home to. I miss the soft. I want the other side of my bed to be warm. I want comfort in knowing my insides are loved as much as my outsides. I want my forever. I want to stop THINKING about it. It hurts. I’m tired of it hurting. The hurt springing frp. No where at random times. Random moments of goid, like in the shower when I’m peaceful and safe and the thought of a forever moment creeps up. Because I let my mind go a little to easy. I let the wall crash down. I let myself relax.

This is the person I don’t let you see. The girl behind the mask. The girl who still has the softness to her. The fear of letting the world in. The one that wants to be held. Craves to be cherished. The girl that sits, weeping in her parked car, at the edge of a park. Instead of going home to sit in her room. Because maybe I can get over this and still make something of my day. All I want to do is eat. And I can’t eat. I gave up that line of defense. 

I’m allowing myself this time to have a bad day. Because it’s ok for me to cry. It’s ok for me to want. It’s ok for me to feel. I just wish….wish I had the switch to make it all ok again.

I’m not like you but I LOVE me

c41819a16fa36c0755343a11910be47eI’m not like you, I never claimed to be. But you have no right to sit there and make assumptions about who I am because I don’t fit into the cookie cutter mold you have decided that life should be. I am rough around the edges. I say exactly what I mean. I can come off as abrasive and even a little mean, but at least I am always honest. My clothes are not name brand but I always look good wearing them. My face seems betrays my age, so I may look younger than you ever imagined and maybe even more than you feel. I had my kids at an early age, we are close and the tell me everything. I have my own personal sense of style, nothing you say or do is going to take that away from me. I have always marched to the beat of my own drum, the ink on my skin and the color in my hair does not make me less mature than you. I laugh when I find things funny, I don’t laugh when things you find amusing hurt other people. I do not tolerate ignorance, hatred of bullying and I will raise my voice up against them. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I have fought for everything that I have and I have done a fucking good job of making a life for myself. I curse like a sailor when it’s appropriate but I know when to keep my mouth shut. I will fight to the bitter end for something I believe in but no I won’t reprimand my child if they haven’t done something wrong in my eyes. I teach tolerance not hate. I teach acceptance not bigotry. I teach love not war. I don’t believe that there is a difference between you and me just because we come from different walks of life, I teach my children that all people are the same and I will not have you sully their innocence because you have a problem with me. My children as smart and funny, well fed and clean, well mannered and innocent…Just because you do not appreciate who I am as a human, neighbor, mother or any of the labels you have affixed me with you will NOT treat my child like a pariah. Mark my words darlin, karma is a bitch and I won’t be around when it comes back to bite you in your less that well-mannered ass. I am not like you and I will never be. And that is quite alright because I am perfectly happy LOVING me. 

 

Unrealistic Expectations 

The movie Practical Magic holds a special place in my heart. The weird, kooky, romantic yet family oriented plot reached me on so many levels. So far this year has not been peaches and cream so I found myself turning to this movie to help me smile or even just cry it out. I find myself drawn to on part in particular —

Young Sally Owens: He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards.

Young Gillian Owens: What are you doing?

Young Sally Owens: Summoning up a true love spell called Amas Veritas. He can flip pancakes in the air. He’ll be marvelously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And he’ll have one green eye and one blue.

Young Gillian Owens: Thought you never wanted to fall in love.

Young Sally Owens: That’s the point. The guy I dreamed of doesn’t exist. And if he doesn’t exist, I’ll never die of a broken heart.

Everyday I think about how proud I am of how far I’ve come. As an independent woman, as a free thinker and as a strong mother. I know that I am a whole person worthy of many great things. There is a part of me that wonders if I will ever be ready to let someone else in. If there will ever be someone that can love to real, whole me. 

So in preparation for this moment in the future I came up with a list of standards that my next partner in crime needs to meet. It’s been decided that they need at least a 65% pass rate to move onto the next round. It is totally unrealistic and very Practical Magic of me. I don’t actually expect any of it to come true but some of the requirements would be swoonworthy. It is as follows – 

1. Can sing (or gives it their best shot)

2. Can dance (or at least be willing to make a fool out of themselves trying)

3. Must be a geek  (or love em)

4. Must be intelligent

5. Must be funny

6. Must be charming

7. Must enjoy ALL kinds of movies

8. Must have nice arms

9. Must have a good bad guy smirk

10. Must have a job

11. Said job must be secure

12. Must get along with his family

13. Must get along with my family

14. Must want A family

15. Must be able to hold a conversation

16. Must be able to debate

17. Must be able to communicate

18. Must love dogs

19. Must be honest

20. Must be loyal

21. Must love Disney

22. Must be romantic

23. Must be well read

24. Must be willing to read

25. Must be quirky

26. Must speak at least 2 languag

27. Must be unfuckingbelievable

28. Must have great hair

29. Must appreciate ALL music

30. Must have expressive eyebrows

31. Must look like or at the least resemble in anyway the following actors

Tom Hiddleston, Jeremy Renner, Mark Ruffalo, Skylar Astin, Ben Platt, John Cusack, Josh Peck, Steve Brundage, Iwan Rheon, Billy Boyd, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Justin Long, Jay Baruchel, Bill Hader, Richard Gene or Patrick Swayze

Desperately Seeking Solace

My need to fill the space in time that I spend lost in my thoughts is swallowed by meaningless messages from strangers. Far safer then actual encountets, I can hide behind the safety of the Internet while I chat with them…The need for dependant validation exceedingly obvious.

It’s funny really, in all aspects of my life I am growing, extending, prospering even and yet I hide behind a mask of words in order to feel like I am going to bed full filled. I wonder if that thirst will ever be quenched or am I bound to spend endless moments typing away when I could be doing something real.

I have made life altering d3cisions. I am preparing for life changing and saving surgery. I smile everyday and hold an honest joy about tomorrow. I’ve made plans for the future that include no on save for the pixie and the sprite. Yet dear future husband is something I find myself writing everyday.

And it isn’t for sex and it isn’t for love…or is it. I honestly know that I need to connect on some level beyond physical attraction, which is why I can hold in depth conversations about silly or mundane things. I crave the intellectual randomness that you can only achieve getting to know someone new. But I sit there and wonder, am I lying? Are they seeing all of me? Do they even care?

The questions pile up and I know they won’t be answered.  I know that I won’t find what I am searching for online even though I have already discovered it in myself. A rare and true connection, where all the elements combine is life altering. I think I’ve had enough of those moments for now. 

I know though,  as soon as I post this, I will wander back to my deep dark dive bar on the web. Filled with smut and sweet and those desperately seeking solace. And I will validate them and they me. Because for even but a moment, sometimes all we need is a moment.

Eliza Dushku is so hot

I had a long winded rant that I was going to go into, about life and why this week was going to be really stressful but I happen to be sitting in front of the TV and while the TV is generally not a distraction…Eliza Dushku sauntering on, during try-outs for Bring it On is just fucking distracting. Now I knew for a long time that I had weird feelings when it came to girls, that I wasn’t sure why I got that tingle in my belly when I had sleepovers just like when I played football with the boys but I never really thought of when I had a sexual awakening. Thinking about it now, I am not really sure I can pinpoint it, it had to have come sometime in high school, I mean that was when the experimentation (meaning kissing girls for fun and sport) really started. But Eliza Dushku…

I remember the first time I saw Faith on Buffy, there was something about the feisty, sparkly, sassy extra slayer that just got my juices flowing. Now, looking back on it I can totally tell you that I was highly attracted to her but then I think it was a mixture of that and wanting to be her. Which kind of ties into what I was thinking about before. What I have been thinking about for the past few days. What I want to be when I grow up. Now I am not still fantasizing about being Eliza Dushku…meeting her, yes but not being her. When I am talking about growing up, I am obviously and adult and I do realize that….and I am not talking about my career path. I am talking about the kind of person I want to see reflected back at me.

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I have taken time out in the past few days to reflect on things that have been going on around me, I have been told to take a deep breath and write what I am feeling if I come up to a blockage to write through it and keep writing till I felt comfortable. I fought against that notion until this very moment. I have only thought about writing for the past few days and here I am. Now all I have been feeling is that the winds of change are blowing and if I don’t put my umbrella in the draft I am going to miss my chance and life is going to start passing me by. I have been thinking about my plans for the future, for what life is going to be like in the next couple of months, weeks, days even. A lot of stuff is happening…So let’s catch up.

This week, the kiddos are gone on another mini vacay with their Nanny so I could get stuff done while they had fun. This week is looking towards being super stressful. Back into court with the ex, figuring out exactly what is going to happen with all kinds of custody things. Hoping it turns out fine but I feel like in some ways I am being set up. Seriously…who asks the main parent to pack specific full wardrobes for children for a ten-day vacation and returns the bags with the clothes untouched? Was it a test? T make sure they have clothes? My children are well taken care of, they are healthy, well fed, happy and well adjusted. They are going to be involved in music lessons, piano and violin, drama club, sports, gymnastics and Hebrew school this year. They have so much going on and I am not going to let ANYONE ruin that. So that is all going to be taken care of on Thursday, hopefully, it is all worked out amicably….Because I don’t want to have to go through a whole court battle, it won’t be ok for them and they are all that I care about.

After this mess is cleared up we continue to gear up for school, now it has hit me that I am really doing this on my own. Now I know I have been on my own for the past 7 months, trust me that hasn’t failed to fall on my shoulders but this is different. This feels new, like a new leaf, new responsibilities, and a whole new book. Maybe because it finally is a new year and as a Mom, the start of a new school year is the real beginning. Maybe because there are so many adventures on the horizon and I finally feel up to the task of doing it myself. Maybe because I have realized that I have the ability to do it on my own and it is actually a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. Either way, the new school year is a big deal and that is approaching rapidly.

Also my house, I am rearranging, throwing out, reorganizing and getting rid of the old. I am done with things that have bad memory and juju attached to them. I want my kids to look at things and smile. I want to curl up in my bed and have it be my sanctuary because I am a fucking princess. I don’t need a prince to tell me that.

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Then we come to my surgery, as of the 26th I will be making my last appointment with my surgeon before we schedule my gastric sleeve surgery. I am totally excited and totally terrified all at the same time. I can’t wait to continue on my journey with a new tool in my bag that will help me become a new, healthy me. I am terrified because I have actually become half convinced that I will not recognize myself anymore. I have so many thoughts in my mind about what is going to happen with the surgery that I give myself a headache. I know it it is going to amazing and wonderful and incredible. I also know it is going to be a huge lifestyle change, it is going to be a whole new me and I have to accept the fact that I will look different and I will feel different and I will get different attention. I have to be ok with that. I think it is the different kind of attention. I don’t know what it will be if it is going to happen and that is the biggest part that scares me. I think I am scared people won’t love me for who I am anymore but for what is on the outside. But I shouldn’t worry about it so much because I still know who I am and I love that person….Are you still keeping up? I think I lost myself about a paragraph ago.

So ahem….now that we have caught up on what will be going on I will leave you with this. I have finally got the courage under my wings, and a voice whispering in my ear, and a foot kicking me in the ass to really get on board with my book project. It is still in the futzing around stages right now but I can tell you it is going to be amazing. I can also tell you that I have been working on my bariatric blog and that has been going pretty fucking well too. I am going to go back to watching Eliza Dushku shaking her ass…and I am going to pick out a whole new bedroom set while doing so. Because I am starting a whole new book and this sassy slayer gets to start shaking it in style too.

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Beautiful words. Shattered dreams

I cleaned out the happy jar, to save myself the pain of doing it at the end of year. My children should not think about what we’ve lost. I found beautiful words.

Lovely memories to smile upon 

But as I smiled the tears began to tall. Because such wonderful words were marred as I remembered…

That a little over 6 weeks later. The dreams turned to nightmares.

I began to cry harder as I wondered what was real and what was fake. Did those words express what was really felt.

I realized I believed in the words. In the life we once had. And I cried for the confusion. The loss of something real. Something beautiful. Something that will never be repaired.

A love that was so pure. An end that was never written. In the stars. A tragic faerietale.