It felt out of the ordinary arriving at our dinner destination without elevated blood pressure and a general crappy attitude about our impending meal. We walked childless through the tinted doors and Hubs took control, checking us in for our 5:30 reservation. Immediately I felt my head lighten and I’m not sure if that was due to not having three kiddos in tow or the fact that I saw Hubs at that moment as not only my husband and father my babies…but as a dominant. Now…I’m not getting all fifty shades on you but coming from the past few years of me ordering four fast food meals only to yield at the end to his order, it felt nice. We were led through the marbled floors, past tables secluded by curtains, to our half circle booth. The surroundings were magnificent. The black cloth napkins, the provincial style mirrors and the blue glow from the 1940’s reminiscent bar…it was like something out of a book. We settled at the middle of the booth, inches from each other. He looked striking dressed in the button up shirt I purchased for his Birthday and smelled divine. With the exception of one photo, our cell phones remained put away. We chatted throughout the meal, laughed and smiled…a lot. God I missed this. The food was exquisite. Hubs opted for the porterhouse steak and I chose a house favorite. It was a magnificent dish of lobster, shrimp, artichokes, prosciutto, cheese ravioli, and garlic cream sauce. Before I knew it, I took the last sip of my first ever martini; a delicious blend of Malibu Rum, Grey Goose Vodka, pineapple juice, and orange juice, then left the relaxed confines of our booth. As we loaded ourselves back up in the family car, I felt happy that we had the experience but disappointed that it was over. If we had the time and resources…I would date the heck out of Hubs. After all these years, he still makes my heart quicken and my breath hitch. I’m a lucky gal.

Maybe it was the extra strong Skinny Girl Margarita I made last night. Maybe it was the emotional reaction Daughter had when her father’s ex-girlfriends name was brought up. Maybe it was the glazed over / eye drop look Daughter gave me as she handed me the phone, knowing her father was on the other end cancelling another promise. Whatever it was I was angry. I sat for quite some time last night, alone in bed as Hubs took over five-year-old-night-terror duty. I really try to be a cheerleader for my ex-husband. I wait and hold my breath at every stage in his life. I brace to hear the deets on Daughter’s meets with the newest current girlfriend. My heart drops when the latest one isn’t the most welcoming. I am hopeful when he courts a girl who talks nail art and One Direction with her. But each time, he fails me. HE FAILS HER. The constant parade of the flavor of the moment is, even for a tween, unhealthy. She is forever fearful the newest flavor will be laced with spiteful tendencies towards her or me and take out her frustrations on her, physically, as a past one has done. The anticipation I feel, is multiplied many times over for her. She wants so badly for him to want to be a father. And, well, since he fails to want to do that a single gent…we both hold out for that one woman who will flip the tripped switch in the fatherhood fuse box. Until that day, I know my hugs are the best medicine for her. And for me, with this whole trying to eat better thing? Well, I better keep good tabs on the current stock of my home bar.

The oldest boy’s basketball coach is not…oh how do you say it…well, he isn’t very good. He rarely hustles from one end of the court to the other to assist the children. He doesn’t encourage passing the ball, instead he favors ball hogging and yelling “SHOOT SHOOT!” even when the referee orders differently. Hubs and I figure it is good exercise and a chance to hang out with his friends but thought there was nothing to really be learned from this six week experience. That was until this weekend. Time after time when the kids scurried to grab a loose ball he would shout “SAME TEAM! SAME TEAM!” It echoed in my head and I thought that isn’t a bad thing for Hubs and I to learn. The fights over money…SAME TEAM! The arguments over who does more around the house…SAME TEAM! So that’s the new thing. Next time one of these arguments approaches the horizon I’m going all Coach Jenn and calling out “SAME TEAM”!

I stared at his blood work print out and couldn’t help but fight back tears, filling with immense guilt. This is all my doing. I prepared the meals. I shopped for household food. And the nights I was so tired from juggling work and home duties? Well, I found comfort greeting the headset wearing fast food employee who dutifully executed our order. I knew the items I fed my husband and children weren’t of the best nutritional value. I knew Hubs lengthy family history with heart problems. I was so wrapped up in getting everything done quickly…I didn’t think about doing things RIGHT. I concerned myself with the moment, instead of the future. From this second forward I am not only going to take more care as to what goes in to Hubs mouth, but also my children’s and my own. We find humor after a long day of this-kid-killing-that-kid, the hustle and bustle of children’s sporting and musical events and all that whining, in imagining us…together…in an empty house. Finding calm in the ticking of a clock as my Grandparents did. In the excitement of an update on our children’s successful lives and that of our grandchildren. The pleasure of a weekend visit from a grandchild, or three or four, filling the house with love and laughter…only to return to their parents care before there was any REAL parenting to do. The traveling…the idea of us a little bit wrinkled and weary from the years of working and parenting young children soaking our old bones in the ocean as the warm sun soaks us with happiness, brings a smile to my face right now.

Coming off a rough weekend, I really needed that twenty minute drive to work. The negativity from the days before had started to consume my every thought and breath. Hubs and I are pessimists by nature, him more so than me, and with the past month of several tough blows we were in full Oscar the Grouch mode by Sunday. I’m just not one of those people who can let things roll easily off my back. I analyze over and over and over again. I was affectionately dubbed a ‘Worry Wart’ when I was 13 and never outgrew the mentality of scrutinizing every mundane decision in a day. So I am not going to fight it any longer. Instead of hearing the constant preaching of therapists, parents and loved ones commanding “You are blowing this out of proportion!” and “Stop worrying about it!”….I will instead take mental notes of a positive moment for each negative moment in my life.

Negative-I received my first paycheck of the year with our medical insurance increase. It now takes 60% of my gross income to provide medical insurance for my family. I now technically make less than the federal minimum wage.

Positive-My daughter now plays Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ fluently on her clarinet. The sound gives me goosies and I feel a warm rush through my veins as it resonates in our house.

Negative-Someone hit our family car at some point in the last week. The damage is to an area I recently paid out of pocket to fix.

Positive- Watching my oldest son’s face and gestures as he cheered on his basketball team, as well as watching him play….quite well.

Negative-The Birthday Dinner from hell.

Positive- Instead of prying my little guy from my arms with tears at daycare, he walked to the gated opening and paused. He then lifted his face in my direction and ever so faintly puckered his lips for a goodbye kiss. After our morning smooch, he walked over to his teacher with no incident.

A positive for a negative. MY new form of therapy. I’d say call me Dr. Jenn but I am sure there are a whole ton of liabilities in doing that. Call it a two step program….compliments of the founder of Pessimists Anonymous, Moi.

I envisioned my Facebook feed this morning would be full of parents complaining about the local school district not closing due to a bout of freezing rain overnight. I rolled my eyes thinking….if they cancelled school in Iowa each time we got winter precipitation the kids would rarely go in winter months. Personally between school breaks and sick kids that is enough to put a target on my back at work having to miss work so often. So I was elated when our district did not scroll across the screen and dutifully went about my morning routine. I noticed our driveway was slick and so was our side road but I was careful in navigating the hazards. After all my entire life has been spent in Iowa or Colorado so I know winter weather. I dropped the baby off at daycare and spied another parent who had crashed in to landscaped area. Going no more than 7 miles an hour I approached the intersection that connects the school to a very well traveled road. I applied my brakes further back than I normally do and I immediately felt my brakes kicking back. I applied firm pressure because that is what Drivers’ Ed told me…or did they? Do I have anti-lock brakes? Two lanes of traffic were heading straight towards me. I didn’t know what else to do…I cried out ‘STOP!’ in the most uncontrolled fashion and quickly yanked the wheel to the left. I came to a stop; sideways….mere inches from the steady flow of cars. Once I regained my composure I turned on to a neighboring street and stopped my car. My foot hurt, my back was full of tension and I was out of breath. But I was there…alive…unharmed. Dramatic? I don’t know…but it was scary as hell. It definitely made me think about all my actions the past week with Hubs and the children. In an instant….it can all change. Maybe a bit deep for this early in the morning and I am not exactly the most religious person but something…someone…even if just my inner strength was certainly guiding me through.

Today I will not stress eat.
Today I will not stress eat.
Today I will not stress eat.

I was just about on my fourth repeat when I glanced at my cell phone, which I had just removed from my purse upon entering work. Two missed calls. One from Hubs….the other from daycare. Crap…crap! As if we weren’t skating a thin sheet of ice already, Hubs and I, the stress of the impending who would leave work to care for a sick child fight suckerpunched me in the gut. And just like each time before it lived up to all the four letter word laced times before. And just like each time before, the baby wasn’t really sick….just a case of too much liquid/food/baby phlegm-it is caused him to expel his stomach contents. But instead of calmly assessing our employment needs for the day we went all Braveheart battle scene on each other. Oy, oy….this parenting stuff is hard. Keeping the kids happy, the spouses, the extended family, the bosses….and somehow remember to keep ourselves happy by not using a crutch that at the time gives us a reasonable accommodation….but in reality it just causes more problems. So, at least for this moment, I am choosing not to stress eat. I am, however, taking out all my December frustrations on this piece of peppermint gum. Poor gum.