25 Things I Learned Camping Across the Country

“No man needs a vacation so much as the man who has just had one.”
― Elbert Hubbard

The Four of Us at Mesa Verde National Park's Cliff Palace

The Husband, The Things and I have logged just over 5,000 miles together on the road for our Great American Family Road Trip, or, as The Husband named it prior to our Great Adventure, the PTSD (Patterson Tilyard Southwest Debacle).  Admittedly, I was a wee bit nervous prior to our travels.  We’re a newly forged family and I’m not always sure how the Things are going to take my Alpha Male husband.  To my great relief, we’ve made it all the way across the country and back and I think the boys have a firmer understanding of who their new stepfather is and are even able to joke around with (at?) him. 

Completely exhausted from the last year in which we have prepped a house for sale, sold the house, built an addition, moved our families in together, we opted for this Great Adventure many months ago.  We packed our things, loaded up the trunk and camper and we left the Eldest Daughter in charge at the homestead, keeping watch over our faithful hounds.  The two youngest Things came with us, mainly because they, unlike their fully grown step-siblings, simply don’t have a choice in the matter.  “We’re going and you’re going to have fun, dammit.”

We’ve missed our other children and our puppies tremendously along the journey but I’m so thankful we’ve had this Great Adventure together and for the things we’ve learned along the way.

1.     The boys have three food groups.  The Husband likes to cook.  He likes to cook things people like to eat.  He has finally determined that the Things have three favorite food groups:  bread, meat and sugar.  At almost every meal, he assessed whether they had at least two of their food groups and would announce that since they had bread and meat or bread and sugar or, in the case of pancakes and bacon one morning, bread, meat AND sugar, they should be satisfied.  He is working on adding vegetables to their required food group list.

2.     The Kum & Go convenience store makes teenage boys smirk.

3.     It’s good to have an itinerary.  The Husband is a Planner.  He is, in fact, the ULTIMATE planner.  This seems to be a great comfort to Things 1 and 2.  Finally, they have someone who doesn’t say “We’ll just wing it!”  In deference to The Husband’s hard work prior to our adventure and to the Things’ desire to know exactly what is happening each day, I compiled our journey into a handy three-ring binder so they could see how far we planned to travel each day and the things we would be doing (enduring). 

4.     The book IT by Stephen King has some uncomfortable sex scenes (we found that out listening to the audiobook).  Oops.

5.     We can set up and take down camp in record time.  Prior to this Great Adventure, we went through the pop-up camper and streamlined our tools.  We organized everything with efficiency in mind and included only those things we really need.  Yes, a wine tool is something that we really need.  OK, maybe it’s just me who needs it.   At the first site or two, The Husband showed the Things the order of business and, by the last camp site at The Grand Canyon, we were all a well-oiled machine.  The boys grabbed tools before they were asked and everything was put away in the same place every time.  (See number 3…remember how extraordinary The Husband is at planning?)

6.     The restaurant/saloon in Leadville, CO called The Silver Dollar has really terrible service.  Like, terrible.  I wanted to go there because I couldn’t go as a kid (duh, it was a BAR).  During the day, it’s more of a restaurant.  A terrible restaurant.  When I enunciated while giving the (terrible) server my order, the Husband asked if I was using my Colorado accent.  Before I could answer, the (terrible) server answered (she thought he was talking to her). “I’m not even FROM Colorado.  I hate it here. I’m moving.” 

7.     This country is big.  The Husband and I knew that prior to this Great Adventure, having both traveled all over the country.  However, the Things had never experienced THIS long of a road trip.  They saw corn (a lot of corn), desert, mountains, and the wide Mississippi river.  They saw elk up close.  They ran across a bearded lizard on a mesa in Colorado.  They felt the high dry heat of the desert and they stood high on the rim of the Grand Canyon at sunset.  When I was a teenager, I cut out an article from the Reader’s Digest entitled “There is No God?”  The article began with the statements, “There is no God.” It went on to say that the mountains just formed themselves, the animals just arose out of nothing.  It went on like that for a bit and then talked about the glorious beauty of a sunset and how the curves, hard edges and soft, flowing hills are so perfectly aligned against the sky.  It ends with “There is no God?”  I hope that the Things saw the grace and beauty of the earth with an omnipotent presence in mind. 

8.     Museum bathrooms really ARE clean and nice.  We found this out after eating the Maid Rite sandwich at the Mark Twain Dinette in Hannibal, MO.  ‘Nuff said.

9.     I don’t want to live in Nebraska.  Or Oklahoma.  Or Arkansas.  There are probably more states on that list but I guess there’s a reason I moved back to North Carolina.

10.  We can all get along.  As I mentioned, I was a little nervous prior to the trip.  The Husband is a very different parental figure than I am.  But, in almost no time, the two boys had aligned with him to mock me about my rule-following (Hello?  Crosswalks were invented for a reason) or my ridiculous morning-person greetings.  I hope they figure out someday that we went on this Great Adventure for them.  I hope they know how much love he pours into all he does even when he seems all gruff on the outside.

11.  Thing 1 has a new road name:  Trailblazer.  He earned it deciphering maps at Mesa Verde National Park.  Thing 2 is now Two Dogs Hunching.  But that’s just because of the joke.

12.  Satellite radio is a gift.  Even high in the mountains in the middle of nowhere with no cell signal to be found, our Sirius XM worked like a charm.  We listened to blues, classical, hip-hop, pop and, mostly, the Husband’s choice of Classic Rewind or Classic Vinyl. 

13.  There are no (few?) overweight people out west.  They either make better food choices or hike their butts off during the 2 months of summer every year.  This does not make me want milkshakes any less.  Nor does it make me want to move at all in 100-degree heat.

14.  I don’t miss TV.  Period.  Thing 2 has downloaded Mad Men on Netflix (don’t judge me…we’re talking about some of the more questionable things happening on the show) and is watching that during long driving stretches.  But, for the most part, we don’t have TV and don’t miss it. 

15.  You can move past mistakes.  So, SOMEONE left our National Park Pass at home.  I mean, someone PLANNED for it, paid for it and conveniently put it in a folder MONTHS prior to the trip and then someone just went off and FORGOT IT.  (Can you guess who forgot it?  Remember the one of us who is much more likely to just “wing it?”)  I felt bad about forgetting it and thought The Husband was mad (and, still, I think he was, a little) but we worked through the snafu.  I am a huge mess.  Always.  I speak before I think, I fall down, I spill things and I…well…I FORGET things.  We worked through it.  And I guess we will keep working through it. 

16.  There are people who drive with goats inside their personal vehicles.  True story.  We saw it.  And then we made up a goat-song parody to Prince’s When Doves Cry (re-titled When Goats Drive).

17.  Sometimes, lessons in opening and shutting truck doors are required.

18.   Raccoons are little bitches.  With cute hands.  And they try to steal peanut butter.  And they leave paw prints on coolers.

19.  Along the same vein, squirrels will bite.  They will. I have proof from the brochure from the Grand Canyon. And they probably carry diseases.   In fact, squirrels are the only dangerous animal they mention. #Validated.  That didn’t stop anyone from continually making fun of my irrational fear of squirrels.

20.  Camping on top of a mesa is cool.  Best. Campsite. Ever.  You should try it at Colorado National Monument.

21.  Farts are funny.  Always.

22.  A little bit of a schedule is good for me on vacation. A lot of schedule is too much.  This vacay had a perfect amount of schedule. 

23.  A 100% acrylic poncho that makes one resemble Clint Eastwood can be had off I-40 in Texas (or was it Oklahoma?) for about $10. 

24.  Coming home again is sometimes the best and most satisfying reward after a Great Adventure. 

25.  Best. Trip. Ever.  I am thankful…always.

What's In a Name?

"Names have power."  
Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief

The future Mrs. Patterson

In less than a week, I will say vows binding me to The Fiancé as his wife.  I was so surprised when he asked me to marry him that I asked, aghast and surprised, "What are you DOING?" I gasped, even as he was down on bended knee with a beautiful ring held up.  We have had a long road, the two of us.  He's seen me at my very, very worst and still apparently thinks he should spend his life with me so I guess we're all good on that score.

When we are married next Saturday, I will take his name as my own.  I am thrilled to become Kelly Patterson but I'm finding myself practicing saying it:  "Kelly PATTERSON.  Kelly PAT-ter-son. Kelly Patterson."  It's kind of a nice Scotch-Irish name and I'm completely honored to take it on as my own.

It's a strange thing to change one's name at mid-life.  I've had a few names in my life.  My birth certificate had one.  Then it changed to another in childhood.  Then, I married The Ex-Husband and I took his name in my early twenties.  I kept it when we divorced because, well, I'd gotten accustomed to it and because I liked sharing a name with Things 1 and 2.  And I've built a career on the name Kelly Tilyard.   And if you Google it, well, I'm  the only one that shows up.  Not so with Kelly Patterson.  Will I get lost in the sea of Kelly Pattersons that have had the name so much longer than I?  Will I be compared?  Are THOSE Kelly Pattersons SO MUCH COOLER than me? 

It wasn't incredibly difficult to become Kelly Tilyard.  I didn't have many things to change.  My social security number and my driver's license were the biggies.  Now, I find that I am overwhelmed with the VAST list of things I will have to convert to my new name.  I imagine I'll get around to all of it within the next, say, five years.  I'm really on top of things like that.  (No, no I'm not.)

I never liked being called Mrs. Tilyard back in the day, but I find that I am looking forward to being called Mrs. Patterson.  As a young woman, I was highly irritated that someone would identify me only as my husband's wife.  "I have my OWN IDENTITY," I scoffed.  I didn't like to open mail addressed formally to Mr. and Mrs. Tilyard.  It didn't help that, as a newly married couple, I was a Navy Wife.  You can't do ANYTHING as a military wife without your husband's permission and/or social security number.  I couldn't get a military ID without him signing for it.  It chafed and I balked.  I had my OWN life, thankyouverymuch.  I've softened in the last ten years and I think I know what it means to become a wife a bit better than I did when I was much younger. 

I am not chattel but I am a partner.  And I am honored to take on my new husband's name.

I'm looking forward to being a life partner with Mr. Patterson.  I like building dreams with him and I'm excited about the Great Adventures we're already planning.  He's the yang to my yin.  The black to my white.  The pepper to my salt.  The Mr. to my Mrs. 

And I'll begin to get used to being Kelly Patterson.  (Do you hear how that just rolls off the tongue?  Kelly Patterson.  Dreamy.)

What a Great Adventure this marriage will be all on its own.  I do.  And I will.  Always. #PathtoPatterson

We Are Family: Lost and Found Sisters

“If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.”

― George Bernard Shaw

I am a word person.  Always have been.   I've been in love with vocabulary for all of my conscious life.  And, for that reason, when I want to get to the heart of the matter, I always go first to the dictionary.  Merriam Webster dictionary defines family in this way:

As you can see, MOST people don't need to look this one up since its popularity is pretty darn low.  Only 1% of people who consult MW are looking for the word family.

"Family" is a deeply personal word and one that conjures up a lot of different images for people.   It can be a warm word that means love, laughter, Thanksgiving dinner, adventures and fun.  It can be a sad word conveying loss or shame.  Or, it can be painful and filled with scars, tears and silence.  It can even be hopeful, fat with the promises of marriage, babies and future domestic bliss.

For me, family is a complicated word.  My mother was never married to my biological father.  My stepfather told me when I was six that HE was not my father but didn't bother telling me who was and threatened my life if I told my mother I knew.  And I spent more than half of my life wondering about who the REST of my family was.  What was my father's name?  What did he look like?  Did he ever think about me?  Did he have a REAL family?

The truth is simple but often complicated when it comes to families.  In truth, my biological father held no legal or moral responsibility for me.  He walked away clean after signing away his parental rights at the request of my mother.  He was kind enough, along with his lovely wife, to meet me when I was 36 and came looking for him.  We have developed a nicely loose relationship over the last years and I am grateful that I now have answers that haunted me for so long.

But life is never neat and tidy.  I met B, one biological half-sister and connected immediately with her.  Nature vs. nurture was answered immediately for me when I met B.  We have so many similarities from the rhythm of our speech to the fact that we both named our youngest sons "Jackson." B had a full sister, L, who wasn't ready to meet me all those years ago.  Two other half-siblings were (and remain) lost to me.

My life, since meeting my father, has changed dramatically.  It was the impetus for change in me and in my choices.  It was almost as if I needed that missing piece to clink into place before I could get down to the business of living.  When you know where you come from, it seems to be easier to envision where you might go.

A few weeks ago,  I heard a ding announcing I had a new message.  I looked and the message was from Kelly L.  Kelly.  She told me that she was the biological daughter of JL and was looking for other siblings she might have.

Kelly L.  Kelly L.  Kelly L. 

My breath caught in my chest.  She HAD MY NAME.  I have always joked that Tilyard is the only legitimate name I've ever had.  I was Kelly S. on my birth certificate.  My mother started calling me Kelly N. after she married.  When I found out my biological father's name, I said I COULD be Kelly L.  And, finally, I took the name of my (now ex) husband, I legally became Kelly Tilyard.

But Kelly L.  Kelly L...

After I breathlessly read the message to The Boyfriend, I must have looked at him somewhat wild-eyed.  He gently said, "Well, are you going to answer?"

I did answer.  I told her that I was his biological daughter and that SHE was, indeed, my half-sister.  We connected quickly and I spoke to her the first time the next day and we pieced together the little we both knew.  I found out that she had met my biological grandmother also and had pictures of our biological father from when he was in her life as a young girl.  I won't share her story here because it isn't mine to tell, but I know that we were mutually thrilled to have found another long-lost half-sibling.

She wanted to meet.  After all, she was finding a sister whom she didn't know existed and...well, so was I.  And, after all, we share a name!  We arranged a meeting of a big group of our family,  our father, his wife and their two children...our two half-sisters.  I had already met B but was thrilled that L was ready to meet me, too.

We had a good day, the six of us plus Kelly's fiancé.  We found many, many commonalities among the four of us sisters as well as some marked differences, too.  (OK, I just don't like the VIOLENCE of football...)  But that's just the way it is with all sisters, isn't it?

We skipped all the years of petty jealousies, of fights over clothes and boys.  Of pecking order establishment.  But we also missed that bond...that "us against them" mentality.  We missed years of laughter and of tears.  We missed marriages, births, trials and triumphs.  Kelly and I both have brothers whom we are grateful for.  But neither of us has ever had a sister.

I don't know what causes a parent to walk away from a child.  I know that I have no animosity toward my biological father.  Life is complicated.  And it's messy.  I get that.  He did what he did.  And I am who I am because of...or perhaps in spite of...never knowing him growing up.  I know that I can love him for the now that we have.  And I have nothing to forgive...because he did nothing wrong by me. 

But sisters.  I have sisters.   And I have a promise for them...for B...and for L...and for K.  I will always love you.  My door is always open to you. I don't always say the right thing.  I am selfish and opinionated and often wrong...about everything.  I am not great about keeping in touch and birthday cards sometimes remain unmailed for years at a time. But, I will always be on the the other end of the phone or the road or the thought.  Sisters.  From now on.

We are family.  I've got all my sisters with me.  

Thank you, Kelly.  Thank you for being brave.  Thank you for finding me.

Author's Note:  This was a tough post to write.  It's taken me a week to sort out how I feel about meeting two new sisters last week and I feel like I have to be very careful because, again, these stories don't belong to me alone.  Like I said, it's complicated.  But I needed to write it out.  And to share it.  Because families, like life, are sometimes messy.  And it's good for all of us to understand that we are not alone in navigating the chaos.  I, personally, like to bring the chaos close to me.  When I see it up close, I can better understand it.

How do you handle your own complicated family?


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5 Things You Should Never Do During Chemo Treatments

“Cancer. The word meant the same to me as tsunami or piranha. I had never seen them; I wasn't even quite sure what they were, but I knew they were bad and I knew in many cases they were deadly.”
― Natalie Palmer

One of my very, very good friends has gone and gotten breast cancer.  She's now inundated with appointments, information, more appointments and the well-meaning actions of the few people she has told.  She's living every single day by putting one foot in front of the other and just getting through it. 

Because she's just not ready to go public, we're going to call her MGFWC (My Good Friend With Cancer) for short.  Actually, we'll just drop it down to MF to keep the character count down.  MF has been through a lot these past few years and cancer is just the icing on the sh*t cake she's been living.  (Yeah, I said "sh*t cake."  And I meant it.) And just a few weeks ago, she had been presented with the chemo treatment facility where her doctor has privileges to treat.  Laughing, she told me about her visit with the Chemo Nurse who showed her around. The sad little room was barren with a couple of chairs and no television or any artwork on the walls.  It was a dreary room intended for an even drearier purpose.

"We have Wifi," Chemo Nurse said proudly.  I think MF (who, I just found out, has her nephew download things onto her computer because she just doesn't "get it") was singularly unimpressed.  The nurse THEN said that they strongly encouraged interaction between patients during treatment.  MF may have mumbled something about having enough friends and the average age of the other patients being old enough to remember the suffragist movement.

MF then said perhaps I should write blog posts to entertain her during treatment.  So, I shall.  The first one is all about Things You Shouldn't Do During Chemo. I mean, she doesn't have TV.  But she DOES have Wifi.  And she's a freakin' troublemaker.

1. Porn.  The very first thing you should not do during chemo is surf porn sites with your tablet.  If you accidentally knocked the headphone jack out of your tablet, then everyone (including that Chemo Nurse) would hear the...well...whatever sounds it is that people in porn sites make.  Also, I hear those things aren't free and you should probably be saving money for your deductible.
2. Sing out loud.  OK, I REALIZE that when we were little kids Karen Carpenter encouraged us to "sing, sing a song...sing out loud...sing out strong" but, c'mon.  Unless your name is Beyonce or Kelly Clarkson, no one really wants to hear you singing.  Especially during chemo.  Because for goodnesssake people are SICK.  They're already feeling nauseous from that chemical cocktail coursing through their bodies and you over there belting out "My Way" isn't going to help anyone.
3. Scratch yourself.  You might be itchy.  And uncomfortable.  But did you ever notice how, when you're in the room with people who are scratching themselves, all of the sudden you feel itchy, too?  I feel kind of itchy just WRITING about scratching.  Oogie.  No one needs cancer cooties.  
4. Cry.  Nope.  Not the time and not the place.  We'll go to another oldie but a goodie:  "Don't Cry Out Loud," that old Melissa Manchester favorite that begs you to very healthily stuff everything inside.  "Learn how to hide your feelings."  'Cause that's totally what well-adjusted people do.  Like baseball, however, there is no crying in chemo.  Crying is for later with a pint of chocolate ice cream and Lifetime Television for Women.  ('Cause just THINK, YOU could be imprisoned for a crime you didn't commit or have a cheating husband just like those poor chicks on the Lifetime Movie Network.) 
5. Call me.  Whatever you do during your treatments, you should probably avoid any phone calls to me.  This is not only because I'm now working in a highly library-like environment but it is also because I am likely to be fairly irreverent and make wise-cracks about cancer and the other people sitting beside you and Nurse Ratchet and pretty much raise holy heck on the other end of the phone.  And because you're getting cancer treatments and not treatments for some kind of bladder problem, you probably aren't wearing Depends undergarments. This can be a problem for excessive laughter. And I will not be held responsible for the stains on your seat because of that fact.  

I love you, MF.  I truly do.  And I have a lot of faith that you're going to make it through this.  And that your life is going to be amazing.  And that we'll be sitting together in rocking chairs when we're 102, drinking tequila and telling dirty jokes to the staff at the nursing home.

You've totally got this.  And when you don't have the strength...you've got a lot of people who will carry you.

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Learning To Be A Hugger

“I don't do hugging. I don't like people touching me ever when there's no treat involved. It's too intimate and it bothers me.”
― Katja Millay

Hugging practice.

I am not a Hugger.

There, I said.  I 'fessed up.  But here's the tricky part:  I so desperately WANT to be a Hugger.  All the Huggers I know are terrific people.  They basically pull you into their very essence and transfer a little bit of love into the nonexistent space between your bodies.  I want to be like them.  I want to be warm and cozy and invite people into my personal space.

And, yet, I can't. 

I didn't grow up hugging.  I can't recall every really being hugged as a kid.  I mean, there were awkward, arm-patting, loose "hugs" when people you knew were leaving for a long time.  But there were no loving, squeezing, "ohmygoodnessIloveyousomuch" hugs.  My mother was never a hugger so I didn't get that "precious little girl" doting either.  And so, I didn't hug.  Hugging was weird to me.

My roommate in college was (and, frankly, still is) a Hugger.  She was confused by my standoffishness because she is one of those serious Huggers.  She respected my space for many years but has since told me on various occasions that she will violate my personal boundaries sometimes when circumstances require it.  And, secretly, I like it.  Shhh.

When my children were born, I was determined to make them Huggers and wrapped them up in hugs and squeezes as often as I could.  Making them feel cozy and loved was my number one priority.  I succeeded with one who hugs continually, firmly and with wild abandon.  The OTHER would prefer that you keep your distance, thankyouverymuch. #Fail.

With The Boyfriend, I am a terrific hugger.  I hug him all the time.  And HE is one of those good huggers.  He's a wrap-you-up kind of hugger.

With other people, I'm working hard on becoming a hugger.  There are so MANY people in this world that I absolutely LOVE.  I adore them.  I kind of think that standing awkwardly two arms lengths away while offering them a smile and a firm handshake is probably not conveying the message I want to communicate.  I want to say, "OH, how I LOVE you, you incredibly person who I am so blessed to be a part of."  Instead, I smile abashedly and shuffle my feet while mumbling something about the weather.

When I am face-to-face with an actual Hugger, I get a little giddy because I know that I have NO CHOICE but to be swept up in their warmth and delicious expression of human joy.  I wait for it and then, after a nanosecond of tension at the space invasion, I fight every instinct in my rigid body and allow my arms to wrap around them and...for the briefest of moments...I squeeze.

So now I practice.  I offer awkward hugs to a variety of people in a variety of circumstances.  I'm getting a little better.  My hugs are a little firmer.  My tension is less noticeable.  I'm working on it.

It's a goal.  I'm gonna be a Hugger.  Someday.  Somehow.  So, watch out.  Next time I see you, I may just wrap you up and squeeze you. 

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Missed Connections

“Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
― Mitch Albom

“We often forget our human connectedness. Throughout my life, I have felt the greatest beauty lies in this connection. It has been in the deepest connections with others that I have experienced the greatest degree of learning, healing and transformation. This connection is a powerful thing, with the ability to transform lives, and ultimately transform human experience.”
― Kristi Bowman 

Photo courtesy of photostock/freedigitalphotos.net

Last night, I dreamed of an old friend.  She is a friend I haven't seen since I was a teenager.  We have no current connections.  She isn't a "Facebook friend" nor have I searched for her name on Google.  Many, many years ago, we shared a table in a classroom and, while she was an important piece of my world then, she is simply a memory to me now.

But last night, there she was!  She hadn't aged at all.  Her skin was still perfect.  And she was inviting me to a party.  How lovely!  It didn't seem unusual in my dream and, as I eyed the invitation list,  I spied a variety of friends, past and present, and wondered aloud at the connections.

We spend our lives weaving in and out of memories.  We share pieces of our day with veritable strangers who become part of the background noise of our lives.  We wave at neighbors and exchange pleasantries at the grocery store with the parents of our kids' friends whose names we can never quite remember.   We recognize the faces of people we see across the aisles at church.  In and out.  They come and go. 

But what happens when one of them disappears?

Today, I received some terrible news about a colleague I worked with not too long ago.  He died last night after a car accident.  Unforeseen.  Unexplained.  Here yesterday.  Gone today.

I don't have the audacity to say he was my friend, although I liked him very much.  His true friends, I am sure, are missing him terribly already.  He was a handsome guy with a quick, broad smile.  He often had positive things to say even when things around him were gloomy. I saw him almost daily for many years as we drudged through our workdays. 

I liked him.  And now he is gone. 

This news has hit me very hard, even though I wasn't close to him.  He was a part of my world.  And I am sad that I will never get the chance to know him better.  That was my loss.  Because of my faith, I believe that he is now in a wonderful place...but my heart breaks for his wife and for the children he has left behind.

I saw him last Thursday.  He smiled at me and we exchanged hellos but I didn't stop to speak with him.  You see, I was on my way to something else.  I was Busy With Important Things.  There were too many people that day that I didn't pause to speak to.

We go through our days, often hurried and harried.  We complain about our partners, our children, and our jobs.  We bend over our smart phones, inhaling social media without pausing to be a part of our own lives.  We nod and smile and wave.  Or we grimace and frown and avoid.  But we don't connect.

Life is precious.  And it is fragile.  And we are only here for a short time.  We have this one life and this one opportunity to connect.

Jayan, you and your smile will be missed...by everyone you touched.


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Still on the Outside Looking In

“The past,' he thought, 'is linked with the present by an unbroken chain of events flowing one out of another.' And it seemed to him that he had just seen both ends of that chain; that when he touched one end the other quivered.”
― Anton Chekhov

I am often surprised by the profound sense of loneliness I feel when I am surrounded by people.  During my much anticipated high school reunion in early October, I was flooded by the realization that I felt disconnected and disjointed in the midst of all the frivolity.

I realized, standing in the middle of a room with the pounding swell of dance beats and laughing former classmates, that I still, after all this time, do not belong.  I didn't know the great majority of the people who were at the reunion with me during high school.  Oh, I could recognize some names and faces but, I'll be honest, as a teenager I probably only had had an honest-to-goodness CONVERSATION with a very small handful of the people at the event.  And even THOSE conversations were, at best, perfunctory.  In high school, I wasn't interested in getting to know people and I never really truly "fit"...I never had a place...in the grand scheme.

And now, even in my forties with all my enlightened perspective and my improved sense of self, I am still very much an outsider.

So what did I do?  I fled to my comfort zone. 

I sought out the friends I have made over the last several years and I settled into them.  My discomfort vanished and I enjoyed talking to them.  I had FUN with them.  They know me.  But I did not venture out into the crowd.  I smiled shyly if I absolutely HAD to go inside but I ducked my head down and avoided eye contact if at all possible.  None of them, I feel assured, knew who I was.  And I certainly didn't know them.

I realized something that Saturday:  there are times in our lives when, no matter HOW well-prepared we are and no matter how eager we are to prove to ourselves that we are dramatically different, we simply ease back into the roles that we were programmed to long ago.

I was programmed to blend in.

So, now that we're past the reunion, here's what I want those people to know:

• I didn't know how to be a part of you back then.  And I still don't.  I have trouble fitting in to groups.  I work so much better in a one-on-one situation.  I am INTERESTED in you.  I want to learn how you like your coffee and I want to know what you wanted to be when you grew up and how that all turned out.  But I don't know how to be a part of your groups.  I am not great at small talk and I don't know what to do when I'm faced with a big giant wave of you.
• I am not a bitch.  Well, OK, SOMETIMES I am.  But when I seem like I'm standoffish, it's really because I don't know how to connect with you.  I don't know what you want from me but what I want from YOU is to feel your vibe.  That sounds really hippie-like, I know.  But I desire strong connections from people.  If I think I can't get that or if I simply don't know how to approach it, I shut down.  And I appear standoffish.  But it's just that I don't know how to reach you.
• I can be clique-ish.  I'm not talking about the Mean Girls kind of clique.  But I retreat into who I know...BEHIND who I know...because I know them.  Because I feel accepted there.  And I can be MYSELF there.  And I don't want to put on some charade for you because, above all else, I HAVE to be myself.  And I have to be accepted for that.  It makes me tired to think about putting myself on the line only to face the possibility of being rejected.  It hurts my feelings when people don't like me...but it's SO HARD for me to truly get to know people because I have to take down ALL my protective barriers.  (And, quite honestly, those barriers are incredibly well-built and time-tested.)
• I'm not great at small talk.  I want to deeply connect with people.  So, sitting around talking about the weather makes me very, very uncomfortable.  I CAN do it but when I'm making small talk there is only a very small piece of me that's present...almost like a Kelly Veneer. Unfortunately, small talk is how people tend to make friends.  So, that's probably why I have like (what?) maybe four friends??
• I vow to do better.  And that's all ANY of us can do anyway, right?  

 I look forward to our post-reunion committee meeting...because I'm starting to KNOW some of those people.  And I LIKE them.  And, maybe, someday, somehow, I will feel like a part of them.


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Reframing the Problem

“Every problem is a gift - without problems we would not grow.”
                                         ― Anthony Robbins

If you were in a locked room with no windows, how would you get out?

At first, the answer may be that you COULDN'T get out.  I mean, how on earth could you manage to escape a locked room with no windows?  Do you imagine an empty room?  Do you imagine that you are alone? 

At second glance, however, there are a myriad of possibilities.  I didn't say that no one else ever entered the room, did I?  I didn't say that there wasn't a trap door that you could use to escape from below.  Or perhaps there's a ceiling above with removable tiles and you could stack books or blocks or bedding to reach it. 

I don't believe in insurmountable problems.  I believe that we can always re-frame the problem and search for the creative solution.  I faced one of these problems over the last year that really had blown my mind for quite a while. 

I had an issue with my Ex-Boyfriend.  (We'll just go ahead and call him "Ex" because there is no real chance of reconciliation and, thus, the name "Off Again" no longer applies.)  I believe he is of the mind that I am a lunatic.  Granted, he is the recipient of about 1,000 texts over the course of several years (1,000 MIGHT be an exaggeration) with me ranting LIKE a lunatic.  He is also the beneficiary of calls where I say "I am on my way to see you to discuss [insert A, B, or C]..."  I have wept and gnashed my teeth on more than one occasion. At first glance, it would appear that I am, indeed, a lunatic.

But, when you look around at ALL the facts, you will see that I was under undue strain during the course of our relationship. There are many intensely personal reasons behind my unraveling in this relationship that I won't share publicly but I think you get my meaning that there are multiple arguments I can use against the idea that I am a lunatic.  I don't know that he would accept any of them.  I don't know that he should because, quite honestly, there were times when I did BEHAVE very much like a crazy person.  Hint:   If you are behaving like a bonafide nut job in any relationship, you should probably go ahead and realize that relationship probably isn't healthy.  You should go ahead and end it.  If you find yourself hanging out a window and biting soap you MIGHT have a bit of a problem (I couldn't resist throwing that in...I have a friend who's going to LOVE that! And, to be clear, I have never hung out a window nor have I bitten soap.).  Just a little tip.

I have, however, re-framed this problem.   Around other people, I do NOT behave like a lunatic.  Oh, sure, I act silly sometimes and I'm a little (maybe a lot) on the bitchy side sometimes but I can say honestly that most people do not believe that my marbles are rolling around loosely in my head.  This is because I don't send other people 1,000 texts.  I am not constantly trying to figure out if other people are lying to me.  I don't weep around other people and apologize constantly and profusely for every real and imagined transgression.  I don't beg other people to love me (yes, literally...not figuratively...beg). I tend to trust other people and acknowledge that they enjoy my company and, therefore, I am at my sane best with them.  In short, with other people I am my authentic self and not some shell-shocked unrecognizable version of me. 

The problem, in this instance, lies in the relationship OR, if you want to be honest, the lack thereof.  See, I THOUGHT what we had was a real honest-to-goodness relationship.  But we didn't.  There was no foundation...no solid ground.  And when solid ground does not exist, structures built tend to be a little shaky.  Or, in this case,  A LOT shaky.  The problem wasn't ME...and it wasn't HIM.  The problem was US.  Co-dependent much? 

I am seriously gun-shy after this relationship.  I don't trust myself to make good choices and I don't trust anyone else not to hurt an already bruised and battered heart.  I think it will be a while before I hit the ground running.

But by looking at the problem in a different light, I can at least acknowledge what I'm not looking for.  And I know how I shouldn't feel in a relationship.  The creative solution in this instance was NOT to try to patch up the plethora of holes.  The creative solution was for both of us to run in opposite directions from each other.  Being away from that relationship helps me to sleep easier and feel more like myself.  And I know that if I have the urge to send 1,000 texts, I should probably run as fast as I can in the other direction...or at least be sure that I have unlimited texting on my phone plan.

So, here are a few hints that you might need to re-frame your relationship issues (and when I say "re-frame," what I really mean is "get the hell out"):

• If your partner ever uses the phrase "I don't really CARE how you feel."
• If you ever find yourself misspelling texts because you are crying so hard you can't see.
• If you feel the need to send more than 3 texts in one minute that include the words "a--hole," "WHY?" and/or more than one "please."
• If you ever feel the need to ask your partner if they really love you.  Daily.
• If you automatically assume that your partner is lying.
• If you ever withhold thoughts and/or feelings from your partner because you're afraid of how they'll react.
• If your partner controls when, how long and where you see each other.
• If you ever spend more than 5 days not talking to your partner.  (For me, this is one day.  I really need communication..)
• If you ever question the fact that you might actually be losing your sanity.

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Living the Journey: Defying Gravity

“Your mind can grasp intellectual ideas, but it is in the FEELING where the transformation takes place.”

― Stephen Richards

I have been on this truly amazing journey over the last eight or nine months.  When I started, I was almost completely depleted of any shred of enthusiasm or energy for anything other than weeping.  And, while I was intellectually aware of my own personal responsibility for my own life, I really was trapped in this terrible cycle of blame...

• "...if HE had done this..."
• "...if SHE hadn't said..."
• "...if THAT situation hadn't been quite like THAT..."

Sure, deep down, I was fully aware that my life is my own and my choices belong solely to me.  But I was making bad choices and I was accusing other people of not quite being what I NEEDED.  Here's the kicker:  No one is responsible for meeting my needs.  

WHAT??  (I KNOW, right?  Can you believe I just SAID THAT?)

I realize that I'm SUPER IMPORTANT.  I mean, every action EVERY person I know has to deal DIRECTLY with me, right?  If my friends looks at me funny, she is almost certainly thinking something terrible about me.  "Do I look really fat in these jeans??  I MUST or she wouldn't be looking at me like that!"  If someone didn't call me back right away, it was almost certainly because he was mad at me.  "He must be really upset that I forgot to run that errand."  What I finally came to realize over the last several months is that I probably wasn't factoring into every decision everyone around me was making.

WHAT??

I decided to do a little self-probing.  I enlisted the help of my (very patient) therapist and embarked on a massive multiple-week self-esteem program.

I learned a lot during those weeks.  I cried a lot.  I researched.  I read.  I did workbook exercises (every one...no matter how foolish I felt).  I learned about setting (and keeping) boundaries. I learned about choices.  I learned about loving myself.  It was a crappy few months.  But it was the beginning of a transformation that I could not have predicted.

1. The world does not revolve around me.  OK, sure, THIS blog world that I've created TOTALLY revolves around me.  I realize people have read more about the inner Kelly world than they EVER wanted to know.  But the worlds of other people have very little to do with me.  People are out living their lives not even thinking about me, for the most part.   I probably cross very few minds very few times throughout the year.  The actions (and reactions) of people are centered in their own lives and have little (or nothing) to do with me.  This was totally mind-blowing to me as a person who has always focused on "but how could he/she DO THIS TO ME?" as if people were just walking around thinking about ways to get to me.  OK, I'm sure it's happened....but not NEARLY as much as I once imagined.  
2. I deserve healthy relationships.  I don't think I could have imagined that sentence a year ago, let alone actually type it on a page.  Here's the big piece I learned:  I have a responsibility to behave in a healthy manner in all my relationships. I have learned to be a friend who is open and honest WITHOUT being so sarcastic and cutting (although, let's be honest, I can never COMPLETELY cut the sarcasm!).  I place my trust in people and I deserve to have that trust honored.  
3. It's OK to say goodbye to regrets.  Sometimes I wish for a giant cosmic eraser to rid myself of my whole past.  I would like to be born today.  New.  Fresh.  I'd like to start from HERE, thankyouverymuch.  I faced my recent past today with an enormous bag of regret.  The bag hung over me, heavy with the watery memories of misplaced trust and unfounded hope, and it threatened to drown me with its contents.  But these days, I'm wearing grown-up lady panties with heavy elastic.  I looked up at the bag, snapped my trusty waistband and moved the heck on.  I am too busy dealing with my own issues to try to figure out why someone ELSE is so screwed up.  (That part IS all about me...MY part.  The part I own.)

I intend to channel my inner Rizzo as my journey continues.  I am totally singing "There are Worse Things I Could Do" right now, in case you're wondering:  "I could stay home every night, wait around for Mr. Right. Take cold showers every day and throw my life away on a dream that won't come true..." Yes, I can hear the orchestra in the background.  

Or maybe I'll stick with Elphaba...

I'm through accepting limits, 'cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change but 'til I try I'll never know
Too long I've been afraid of losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if THAT'S love, it comes at much too high a cost
I'd sooner try defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye, defying gravity
And you can't pull me down.

Yes, I think that's it.  I think I'll try defying gravity. 


If you like my blog, share it.  Or Like my FB page to get updates.  Or subscribe to the e-mail list.  Or make a comment below.  If you don't like it, well...just try not to hurt my feelings.  I'm sensitive. 
And yes, there is a subtle "screw you" in this particular blog post.  I can totally channel my inner Taylor Swift, too.  :) 

Worst Parenting Fail EVER: The Target Story

“The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.”

― Henry Ford

One night last summer, Thing 2 and I headed out to Target to buy something or other we needed for the house.  It was paper towels or dog treats or something we probably could have done without for another night.  We got in the car and drove to the shopping center about 10 minutes from our home.

As we shopped, we laughed and teased each other.  Thing 2 is always good for a laugh and we never fail to banter back and forth whenever we're out and about.  After checkout, we were wagering if he could keep up with the car running beside it.

"You COULD NOT!" I bellowed.

"Yes, I TOTALLY could," he protested.  "If you promised to not drive as FAST as you COULD."

"Even if I drove under 10 miles per hour it would be tough for you to keep up!"

We continued debating as we loaded our bags into the trunk.  I unlocked the doors with the key fob and hopped behind the wheel.  The parking space in front of me was empty, so I eased the sedan forward and then drove out of the parking lot.

Thing 2 was too young to be in the front seat, so I chatted merrily away to the backseat.  I drove onto the highway, speeding toward home, talking away.  Thing 2 wasn't answering.  Sometimes he plays tricks on me, so I called his name.  "WHY aren't you ANSWERING me?" I complained.  I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see his expression.  It reflected an empty seat back.

I frowned. "Thing 2?"

Still no answer.

"Are you HIDING from me?"  Surely, I thought, he was scrunched down in the floor board.  I was started to get a little irritated with the game though.

"OK.  Joke's over.  Answer me, please."

Still nothing from the back seat.

I craned my neck toward the back, trying to make out a figure on the floorboard.

Nothing.

My mind raced.  Well, obviously he was IN THE CAR.  I'd been talking to him the entire way!  Perhaps he was hiding UNDER the seat somehow?  Was that even possible?  Did my car have one of those trick back seats where maybe he slid into the trunk somehow?

The reality was unthinkable.  My mind worked every POSSIBLE scenario except the only one that made sense:  I had left my child in the parking lot. 

I pulled over at the top of the exit ramp and hurried out of the car to peer into the back seat.  No.  There was no child.  My mouth went dry and my heart plummeted somewhere near the vicinity of my knees.   I had left my child in the parking lot.

Gulping for air, I did an illegal u-turn (sorry, police officers, I was PANICKING!) and sped back toward the ramp to the highway.

OMG.OMG.OMG.OMG. OMG.OMG.OMG. 

My thoughts were wild.  He had never been left anywhere!  I am the OVERPROTECTIVE PARENT!  He always wore helmets.  He only went to friends' houses whose parents I was SURE were fine and upstanding.  I breastfed him!  He didn't eat peanut butter until the doctor said it was OK.  I mean...I HAD LEFT MY CHILD IN THE PARKING LOT.

I have no idea how fast I moved my car down that highway, but as I sped along, an unknown number rang shrilly in the car, silent save for my wildly beating heart.  I answered quickly, hoping to find a Target employee on the other end.

"Hello!" I shouted.

"Mom?" A hesitant voice floated into my ear. 

"OHMYGOD, honey, are YOU OKAY?"

"You LEFT ME!"

"OH, I know, I know, I know.  I'm on my way right now.  OHMYGOD, I'm SO SORRY. I'm SO SORRY."

He told me that he recognized a kid from Scouts and his dad.  They had picked him up from his harried run after me through the parking lot and were idling in the lot while he called.

I hung up the phone.

OHTHANKYOUGODIPROMISEIWILLNEVERDOANYTHINGBADORWRONGAGAINIFICANHELPIT.   tHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU.

I careened into the parking lot and headed straight for the SUV idling there with lights on.  I screeched to a halt, flung open the door and, wild-eyed, walked toward the car.

The dad eyed me suspiciously.

"Rough night?" He peered closely at my face.  I'm certain if he was assessing whether or not I was addled by drugs or mental health issues.  (And, hey, I can't blame him!  I actually am GLAD he was careful about me.  Obviously, there was cause for concern here.)

I rambled on about something, probably doing nothing to assuage his fears.  He talked to me for a couple of minutes and then told Thing 2 to go ahead and get out of the car.  Thing 2 stumbled out of the car and ran toward me, tears now streaming down his face.  He had been brave as long as he could.  Now that mom was here, he could let loose.

We took this photo on our NEXT Target visit.

He got back in the car.  I took a few steadying breaths, thanked the Scout dad profusely and got back behind the wheel.  We went over how it had happened.  When I had unlocked the doors, I had only unlocked the driver's door instead of all four doors.  He thought I was playing a trick on him and ran alongside gamely, expecting to see my tail lights burn red at any moment.  But the car only sped up and away, leaving him running as fast as he could after me.  

It was heartbreaking to hear his voice, small and scared and hiccuping through tears in the back seat.  I apologized a hundred times and told him that I would not make that mistake again.

He bravely wiped his tears as I watched him in the rearview mirror.  And then he laughed,  "I can't WAIT to tell Thing 1 that you LEFT ME AT TARGET!"

It's been a while since I left my youngest son in a dark parking lot.  But neither kid lets me forget it.  "Mom, I'm just going to take the CART OVER HERE.  DON'T LEAVE ME."  It's a little easier now that they ride in the front seat.  I can at least look over and realize that a warm body is occupying the space.

Life goes on.  And we fumble along with it.

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Lessons Learned from Dog Walking

“A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things-a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.”
― John Grogan

Sparky, Mr. McDougal and I have been awake since about 3:30 this morning.  After I finally gave up on sleep at about 4:30 a.m. and rolled out of bed, I put on my running shoes and shorts and headed downstairs.  The dogs know what it means when I put on my shoes first thing in the morning and they both skittered downstairs joyfully.  Little did they know I had a plan to get my OWN exercise in first thing this morning.  They looked at me sadly as I shut the front door behind me; Mr. McDougal stood there with his head cocked to one side as if to ask, "Kelly, dear, is it not morning?  Do we not walk WITH YOU?"
 

At the end of my 45 minute power walk, I was tired and my old arthritic knees were starting to swell just a bit and I decided that I would walk the furry beasts later this evening....and then I opened the door.  They bounded toward me, tails wagging, tongues hanging out as if to say, "Yay, yay, yay!  OUR TURN NOW!"

Who can say no to two happy dogs?

As we walked along this morning, I laughed at the two of them as I always do.  They just crack me up.  One big.  One little.  One strolling.  One running along with his tiny little legs a blur.  I looked up at the stars as we walked along and started thinking about all of the gifts my dogs bring to our family.  And, if we pay enough attention, they teach us valuable lessons even on something as simple as a morning walk.

1. It's always fun to venture out of the house.  Even if we're taking our customary walk route, those dogs bound out of the house like they are ready to summit Mt. Everest or chart an unknown territory.  Their noses go up and out and their tails wag and they pull at their leashes to GET STARTED.  They look forward to our walks every single time.  Fun is to be had around every corner even on something as simple as a morning walk.
2. Life is better with a buddy.  Even though I think Sparky was pretty happy as a single dog, he seems even happier with his trundle dog tripping along beside him.  They push their noses together as they sniff through the neighborhood and they each wait patiently while the other does his business.  As they walk, they keep pace with one another.  
3. Who you are is more about what's in your heart that what you are on the outside.  Sparky is a big dog at almost 80 pounds but he thinks he is the cuddliest lap dog you've ever met.  And when he meets people or animals during our walks, he wags his tail and begs to go and meet them.  Mr. McDougal, on the other hand, is a tiny Scottie whose legs lift him maybe four inches off the ground.  He thinks he is the biggest bad-ass to roam the streets.  He struts along at the end of his leash and just DARES other dogs to come over.  "You want a PIECE OF ME?" 
4. Everything is interesting.  They sniff.  They notice.  They look.  Nothing escapes their attention.  This morning, I took a page from their book and paused to appreciate the beauty of the full moon as it eased toward the horizon.  
5. If someone loves you, they are willing to carry your crap.  I do not LOVE scooping their smelly deposits into a bag and carrying it along with us.  But I love my dogs.  And I know that they love their walks.  And if I have to carry their crap...well, so be it.  I can take a little crap-carrying in exchange for all the joy I receive walking them.

I adore my dogs.  I hope that I give them one ounce of the joy and wonder they give to me every day.
Is it nap time yet?

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Dear George Clooney

“You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not.”
― Jodi Picoult

Dear George Clooney,

So, it's all over the headlines.  You've broken up with your latest super-hot girlfriend 20 or 30 years your junior.  Or did she break up with you?  I didn't get that straight in the snippet I got from Entertainment Tonight last night.  Regardless, you are now ON THE MARKET.  Just thought you'd like to know that I'm single, too.  Coinky-dink?  I think not.

I'm a REAL CATCH, George.

See, George, here's the thing: I think it's time you experienced a REAL woman.  Sure, you can argue that because you're a super-hot, super-wealthy, incredibly talented bachelor, you can have any woman in the world so why BOTHER choosing a real woman.  That would be ONE argument.

The other side of the coin, though, is all about what you're looking for.  I mean, you MIGHT be looking for someone just to have on your arm so that everyone looks at you and thinks, "Damn!  How do two such super-hot people not just burst into flames when they look at each other?"  I mean, if all you're looking for is someone hot and nubile to spend your time with then, by all means, continue to date these gorgeous women who want nothing more than your money and a position in the sidecar when you jet around the world.  

BUT, if you want something with a little more SUBSTANCE, then I suggest you give me a call.  Sure, I'm a little messy.  Maybe a little lazy sometimes.  I DO eat real food.  My diet consists of more than a few carrot sticks and an Ensure shake to provide nutrients.  Of course, that shows in my thighs...but, no matter.  We all look the same in the dark, right George?  

I can be a little demanding.  I'll need you to bring home some extra half-n-half for my coffee, if that's all right.  And, oh, there are these two kids who live in my house.  They can be a little loud and demanding as well.  But, if you'll just buy them a few video games, I'm sure they won't get in the way.  Here's the good news:  I don't want to have any MORE kids.  I heard that was an issue in your last relationship.

I have a job, which will cut into our travel schedule a little.  But I get three WEEKS of vacation...so, that should be plenty of time for that little Italian getaway.  

Oh, and I don't really wake up pretty.  I mean, my hair is a little crazy and I walk like I'm about a hundred years old immediately upon waking.  These old joints just don't respond as well as they used to.  But, in no time, my hobble increases to a slow crawl.  You'll get used to it after a while.

Bonus news:  my hair isn't gray.  Yet.  Yours is...but I don't mind, George, because you're a guy.  A super-hot, super-wealthy, super-talented guy.  I can overlook your grays, George.  That's just how generous I am.

I'm sure we can take care of that extra little jiggle I have when I walk the red carpet with you.  Spanx are perfect for that kind of thing and I already own some in nude AND in black.  So...we're totally covered there.  My vocabulary MIGHT be a little larger than what you're used to but we'll get you a Scrabble board and start practicing right away.  I don't want to be bored on all of these nights we'll be spending together, George.

So, listen.  I'll just be waiting for your call.  Text is OK, too, because I DO have a job.  I'm really excited about our future together.  I know you are, too.  

With love,
Your future amour

We Are Family

“What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.”
― Mother Teresa

I have spent the past week entirely in the company of my children.  I am currently locked away in my bedroom with a glass of wine and two dogs with the television blasting the third season of the Gilmore Girls.  After seven days, suffice it to say that I am finished with family time.

Rock, paper, scissors during the Fourth of July Festival

Don't get me wrong.  I adore my children.  I do.  But I would currently like to adore them from a distance.  Preferably with them downstairs pursuing their own activities and me upstairs not having to talk to them.  People say that I will miss them when they're gone.  And I'm sure I will.  (Surely.)  But, for now, I need some space.  And some quiet.  And a few minutes where no one is farting and then telling me about it.

We had a lot of terrific conversations this past week and we endured some fun (and some not-so-fun) activities together.  I learned more about these growing strangers in my home and I feel closer to them after hours in the car and in the house.  We've had junk food feasts, marathon movie sessions, car rides in the countryside and a variety of learning activities disguised as fun.  We didn't get to nearly all of what we wanted to do but that's typical of life with me.  One day, we decided to wake up when we wanted to and we stayed in our pajamas and ate ice cream.  We didn't have a typical "vacation" but it was one that may have been the most valuable yet.  And I'm leaving it feeling fulfilled and rested and ready to get away from these two.

I came to an interesting conclusion here at the end of the week.  For a long time, I have yearned for an adult companion to share our vacations and, in truth, our lives.  I told my Ex Husband the other day that I am glad for the ability to come and go as I please, to do what I want and to not share my bed with a snoring man.  But that wasn't really the whole truth.  I have wished for that very thing over the past several years.  I tell myself (and others) that it's better this way.  It's better to be single and do what I wish.  But I have longed for a man who loves me and, most importantly, loves my children as his own.  And, as much as I like to ignore it, I am a woman who was made to be loved by a man. 

This may really not happen for our little family.  Thing 1 will be up and out into the world in only five short years and Thing 2 will be not far behind him.  During this week together, I found that I enjoyed their company wholly and fully and we were able to be loud and silly together.  I found myself wondering if a blended family would somehow change that.  The answer is undoubtedly yes.  It WOULD change it...now, I can't say if it would be BETTER or WORSE.  But the change would be inevitable.

So I came up with a few good reasons why it's OK for me to remain a single mom for the next seven years:

• I can make all the decisions.  Let's face it.  I'm ALL ABOUT control.  And being right.  And, if I'm the only adult present, I can sing Janet Jackson ALL DAY LONG.  "Now I know I've got to take...control.  Now, I've got a lot..."  I can say yes.  Or no.  And we can have ice cream BEFORE dinner.  
• I can roll my eyes when Thing 1 has an adolescent throwing-things-in-his-room-fit.  This morning, Thing 1 woke up on the WRONG side of bed.  Thing 2 and I were downstairs hearing thuds and thumps.  I knew Thing 1 was just working things out and allowed the behavior because he wasn't harming anyone...he was just getting out his feelings physically without being destructive.  That's totally allowed in my home.  When he came down and slammed his breakfast dishes on the table, I addressed the behavior quickly and it ceased immediately.  I worry that another adult might escalate poor behavior instead of addressing and defusing it.
• We can eat cereal for dinner.  Rules are present in my home but I'm not a stickler for some things.  I see no reason to cook a meat and two vegetables for EVERY SINGLE DINNER.  Sometimes we have cereal. Sometimes we have nutter-fluffers.  And, while we almost ALWAYS eat at the table, sometimes we have TV dinners.  Flexibility is my middle name.
• There is no drama.  I'm not always the best at choosing partners.  I don't want to cry in front of my kids because my feelings are hurt.  I don't want to lose myself or sacrifice myself for another person.  That wouldn't be good.  When the time is right, I will be in a HEALTHY relationship with someone who respects me and loves my kids.  As it is, we have zero drama.  Zero drama is an important part of family life. 
• They get all of me.  I can focus on my hoodlums.  My time and attention belong to them.  OK, I understand that it's important for them to see how healthy relationships function.  But they can get that from their dad and his girlfriend right now.  Or from their grandparents.  They don't have to model relationships from me.  What I can do is give them my energy.  I can laugh at their jokes (but only if they're funny) and play games with them and talk with them about their ideas. 

 Sure, part of me is still a bit sad that we don't have a fourth wheel with a wheel or two or three of his own.   But that's just not in the cards for us.  At least not for right now.   And that's OK. (I mean, I wouldn't say "no" to, you know, a real-life Prince Charming or anything...)  Our little family is chugging along just fine.  As long as they stay downstairs for a little while...

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