Child of Mine...

Child of mine, you will never know how much I love you. So while you are
sitting in your room sulking and pouting, let me share a few things with you.
Maybe one day when you are old enough you will understand.

While you are thinking about how much you hate me because I was evil enough
to set boundaries, I am quietly counting to 10 and remembering all those times
I couldn't wait for you to talk. I couldn't wait to have these conversations with you
and watch you form your own opinions, hear you work out a problem on your
own and to finally hear you say you love me.

While you are yelling out "It's not fair" I am remembering when you used to hold
my hand because I was the best thing since sliced bread. You reached for me
unabashadly with the biggest most trusting smile on your face and I remember
thinking, "Dear God, please don't let me disappoint this child."  But here's the
thing. Disappointment is inevitable, but the love you have for your child endures
EVERYTHING.

From making your favorite breakfast to making your stuffed animals look like
they are sleeping in your bed, I am on a constant vigil to make sure that you
are safe and that you will thrive in this world. Even when I really just want to
walk away from another power struggle my heart has a magnetic pull towards
you that will never go away. 

So go ahead and think that you have the worst life "like ever." It's going to
get worse before it gets better. And I will be here, every step of the way.

Crying in my Wine Whine...

I think I was born with extra tear ducts. Seriously, I cry at the drop of a
hat. I cry when I'm happy, sad, perplexed, joyful, worried and content.
Local news stories can make me sob at the breakfast table and I think
at this stage in the game my husband has learned to just pass the tissues
and not even question my latest waterworks.

I once had to do a "personality" quiz through work and most of the people
around me were scoring in the 90th percentile for "Leadership" or "Decisiveness"
or even "Communication." I scored in the 95th percentile for "Empathy."
What can I say, I was born this way.

I don't really recall when my call to the world of tears first became apparent.
My inner circle will know the extenuating circumstances that would certainly
support my hyper-sensitivity, but crying  because of a story I read or heard
seems a bit of a stretch. I'm not a pretty crier either. It's all red nose and snot
and wet sloppy tears.  Ah, to know me is to love me.

So if you ever need to just sit and have a good cry with someone, I'm your
girl. I'm a good listener and my vault of "secrets" is massive.

Somebody bring the tissues...and a good bottle of wine.

The 5 Stages of Grief Whine...

I have come to realize that I am going through my own stages of grief over moving
here. Don't get me wrong, the majority of my feedback support group thinks this
was a good  move, but the doubting section hasn't quite joined the bandwagon.

First there was Anger - "I can't believe we are &^%#@! moving again!"

Then there was Denial - "I am not selling anymore furniture, clothing or other such
belongings.I will never have another yardsale in my entire life. Bubblewrap is my
nemesis. There was partial acceptance along the way because we were moving
closer to our family and the thought that I would never have to shovel snow again....
then it hit me... I will never shovel snow again. I like snow.

I missed the Bargaining stage altogether while sipping/gulping my chardonney. My
arbitration skills are lacking any kind of depth of conviction and so I packed on.

The Depression Stage hit me about a week ago when I realized that I was not going
to be witnessing any type of season change through the beautiful and colorful
display of leaves just doing their fall thing in October. Sunshine became annoying
and I was really looking forward to a cold afternoon with a cup of hotchocolate.
Not going to happen. I won't have snow on Christmas morning and I won't get
to see TJ all red-faced from the cold after having a snowball fight with his friends.

I'm limping towards Acceptance...slowly. The one thing that trumps all of these

negative feelings is that we have FAMILY here and that my friends is priceless.

I will never take for granted the fact that if I need help, I can ask for it and I will

get it. No questions asked. I like the fact that I can help in return in an effortless

exchange of just being there for each other. After a particularly long day last week

I walked the one house over to my mother-in-law's with a glass of wine for

both of us and her smile and acceptance of me was the tonic I needed. When she

said, "You read my mind" I knew I had come home.

Getting My Own Way Whine

Some people just know instinctively how to play the right cards to
get their own way.  Me, I don't even know if I am playing with the
same deck as everyone else.

Do you whine, sob, demand, make ultimatums or do you become
so eerily quiet that even the birds avoid your house??  I'm not sure
how I play this, but I do know that when it counts I don't really get
my way as often as I would like.

Perhaps I need some training on this.  Let's all pause for a glass of
wine.  Ok, better.  I think being persuasive takes a lot of planning
and smarts and I thought I was in possession of both. I think I might
back down too easily.  I have often found myself in situations where
the bubble over my head is screaming "WHAT THE HELL WERE
YOU THINKING?" And then my inner conscience hides in the
corner until all the voices go away.  My alter ego always has an answer
for everything, but she goes on vacation a lot and she's really hard to
reach.

I think I will resolve to be more direct and forthright. And maybe a
few tears, yeah, I think tears might help.  Is there a self-help group out
there that I am not aware of? We can make it a pot-luck gathering....
I will bring the wine.

Dieting Whine.....

Dieting sucks. There's just no two ways about it. I used to be able to exercise
my way out of a bad eating day/night/week, but no more. Now I actually have
to watch what I eat (or more importantly watch what I don't get to eat!)

*Sigh* I look at pictures of myself from two years ago and I see the pile of
clothes in my closet that I can only wish I could fit into. The sad thing is that
I know better.  I know what I'm supposed to do to lose the weight and call
it laziness, lack of motivation or an act of surrender, but I just can't get
myself back into this groove.  I remember what I did to make it work the first
time and I'd like to forget what I did to gain it all back, but it haunts me in the
mirror every day.

I need a fresh outlook. I thought that moving to FL would make me want to
work out more because we can be outside all the time, yadda, yadda, yadda.
It's hotter than Hades on most days, I look gross in a bathing suit so I don't
even want to approach the water and become a five course meal for Jaws.

.....So I procrastinate. I have procrastinated for 8 months now. I have to
just jump in and do it. Baby steps (away from fridge, away from the wine,
away from the nachos.) I'll keep you posted!

Consumerism Whine, or "Why do I Have to Have it All?"

As I sit here enjoying my glass of pinot grigio, I feel compelled to examine all
the ways in which my senses have been bombarded with the singular message
of "Buy Now,Pay Later." This assault happens on a daily basis and I find myself
feeling a little violated now and then. Especially when my wallet is saying one
thing and my mind is saying, "No, really, that skirt makes you look like Angelina."

I keep getting credit card offers in the mail. I can almost hear them whispering
in my mailbox before I open the little door. They say things like "You will shop
now, you will spend more than you earn and you will LIKE IT."  Well, of course
I will like it, but I will throw up at the site of the bills rolling in.  Who decided that
credit cards were a good thing? I know there are people out there who are
completely disciplined in this area. It's like a cult that only special people can join.
I am not one of those special people. I have one credit card in my purse, two
laying in a drawer (just in case) and one laying under a pound of ground beef in
the freezer. (That's my "emergency food supply.")

Marketing people have my number...if it will make me look younger, thinner
and more popular than I'm hell bent on getting it. At least I used to be. Now,
I think I'd rather strive to fit into more of the clothes that I actually have. I think
I would rather spend time with friends than money with strangers.

Why does it take getting older to see things like this more clearly??

Wine of my Youth...or was that Beer?

I once fought off three guys at one time vying for my attention during my 20's.
They were all named Steve, thankfully, and I was too full of myself (or beer)
to feel any kind of remorse about possibly leading them on. Fast forward 20
years and you are more apt to find me fighting off wrinkles named crowsfeet
and a wine-belly....sexy, I know.

I thought I was brave and strong and resilient, but it turns out I was just lucky,
had good timing and could talk my way out of, or into anything.

I wish I had the benefit of hindsight back then, but maybe that would have
interferred with the "happy accidents" and spontaneous moments that have made
my life the thrill ride it has been.  I've seen fireworks in five different states and
two countries. I met a guy who makes me laugh and still sees me how I was when
I was in my twenties (on a good day) and a little boy who can bring me to tears
just by watching him sleep. My cat thinks I walk on water just because I bring her
food at the drop of meow and my mailman sorts my mail alphabetically because
he knows I'm quirky like that.

I feel like I am at the starting gate of some big changes in my life. I want to run full
speed ahead, but I need to be patient and burst out of the starting block when I
have the right shoes.

Funny how I still chuckle when I meet someone named Steve.