If you give a Mother a strawberry margarita pouch....

If you give a Mother a strawberry margarita pouch

She’ll find it is too frozen to drink and place it in the refrigerator

She’ll notice a few stray items left from dinner and clean them up

She’ll go to take towels to the laundry room and see the basement lights on

She’ll realize the windows were left open and close them

She’ll reminiscently look at old photos in frames and remember the years past

She’ll hear her daughter ask for help with her medication

She’ll assist her son in a nightly sip of water when he hears her in the kitchen

She’ll turn to find her other son pointing to the milk cup not yet washed

She’ll step on a toy as she retreats to her recliner

She’ll soon be accompanied by her oldest son to cuddle for a bit

She’ll wake up in the middle of the night with her hand numb

She’ll realize that she never got to drink her margarita pouch

She’ll silently say ‘There is always tomorrow’ as she carries a sleeping boy to bed

Kindergarten Day!

Today was Boy 1's first day of Kindergarten. He was a fidgety mess. He kept putting his arms in his shirt and pulling the strap off his backpack. He rarely looked up but answered clearly when the teacher asked for his name. I luckily wore my sunglasses as my eyes pooled up with tears, so he did not fear that this was a bad thing. It was all good. Familiar school, familiar teachers. I knew he was safe and what was to come the next years of his life because Daughter paved the way. Brave girl. So I suppose IT DOES get better. The hot mess I was years ago dropping off a pretty 5 year old to her first day in a brand new, strange building....was long gone. I was....stately. I was calm, I stood tall and when it was time for the parents to skedaddle...Hubs and I did. And although my eyes shed a few tears on the way to the car, it wasn't an ugly cry. I feel like I should graduate to the next belt color like in karate or something.

1st day of middle school

Where the heck does time go? It seems like not too long ago I dressed Daughter in a red, Hawaiian style dress on her first day of preschool that I paid $1 for at the thrift shop after her father walked out and left us with nothing. This morning I helped her choose her outfit, custom picked by her from the mall, for the first day of middle school and gave her an ankle bracelet of mine. I told her that every time she felt the bracelet move with a step, it was me helping her put one foot in front of the other. She needs all the good vibes she can get…Lord knows middle school was rough. Maybe y’all could send some her way too. *wink*

The What?! Factor

I know the old saying goes something like “You can look, just don’t touch” when it comes to the opposite sex while in a relationship and many people agree with that sentiment. I, being the product of divorce by unfaithfulness, do not agree wholeheartedly with that statement. In my experience a look led to a touch, led to unfaithfulness, led to the demise of a marriage. I have always said celebrity crushes are a-okay. Those people are on a different level and the odds of ever contacting someone with celebrity status are astronomical. But….the young female who prances around, locally, who does not have thinning hair from years of supporting a failing family business, who does not have body aches from keeping up with the mountains of laundry…the daily meals…the housework, who does not have Goodwill clothes on due to sacrificing so her family can have better….is off limits. To me. Nothing anyone can say will ever change this feeling for me. This may be from the residuals of a failed first marriage but whatever the case finding out that your spouse sends a text message to a friend that this female has ‘The Wow Factor’ and you have not received a compliment since Obama’s first term in office….it hurts. The very same way stepping on a hidden Lego on the floor feels. I, too, still desire that passion. I crave that animalistic draw. I want to feel not only needed…but wanted. To be craved. So I suppose I am putting this out there for any guy who reads this. Go home tonight and tell your wife she is hot. That she is stunning and you desire her even when it doesn’t seem it. And for all the ladies out there who feel unappreciated and undesirable…you are not alone.

Donut Week!

I felt like a dead man walking this morning. You see, it is the last week that Boy 1 is in preschool before he starts Kindergarten and Hubs will start taking him due to a later drop off time. So that means my little co-founder of Donut Fridays won’t be there to accompany me anymore, it’ll be just me and Baby Boy. So I decided to make this final week… DONUT WEEK. The problem with that is Boy 1 didn’t want to get dressed, he didn’t want to brush his teeth and moved slower than a snail’s pace. All things that are no-nos for the reward. I thought long and hard as we made the drive to school. I looked at him with his head hung from disappointment in the rear view mirror as he barely glanced at the gas station as we passed. I couldn’t do it, ladies. I know most people would say ‘Stick to your guns!’….’Be consistent!’ but as tears flowed down my face thinking that all this would be over entirely too soon I knew I had to put my parental mind to rest and go with my heart. My heart said Dunkin Donuts….a treat he never gets. And just like that we were in route to school, with chocolate frosting all over his face and a twinkle in his eye….everything was right in the world again. He won’t grow up to be a serial killer because I didn’t following my discipline through this time….so I am okay with that. I didn’t really think the last week would be this hard. I have cried less when family members passed away. I decided that it can’t be over after this week, it won’t be over. The last Friday of every month I will take a shorter lunch to arrive a half hour late to work so we can still have a little Donut Friday time. It makes it a bit easier knowing it won’t be over completely. This whole change thing is tougher than I thought it would be.

Virtual Vacay

We arrived to hop our connecting flight from the Midwest to LAX and since the layover was so lengthy, Hubs and I decided to do some power shopping in sunny CA. We enjoyed several hours of shopping at the most exquisite boutiques, where everything fit me like a glove. We then boarded our flight to Tahiti, first class, and were welcomed with a flower lei. We settled in to our one night stay, comfortably, as we indulged in some adult spirits and long overdue conversation. In the morning after a long night of enjoying each others company, we boarded our final destination flight to Bora Bora. Once arrived we were carted off in a water taxi and the golden sun bathed my pale skin with a glow that warmed me inside and out. Hubs exited the taxi first, then turned for my hand as I smiled and put my hand in his to assist me on to the indescribable beach. We slowly walked to our private bungalow as he affectionately placed his fingers on the small of my back. This...is...the...life....I reflected......

Then the co-worker came back, the telephone rang, my Outlook reminder to complete a report popped up, an employee came in to tell me his life story and POOF I was back in reality. Maybe tomorrow I can return...or the next day...or the next day.....

The 'F' word....Fat

Today started rough. We staff a major temporary event every year and one of my perks of the job is I receive a very pricy promotional shirt from the event, compliments of Boss. The problem is through the years; through the pregnancies…my body has changed. So as a coworker (who is male) and I take part in ‘Vintage Week’ he looks the same but my appearance varies greatly each day. Two pregnancies ago me, postpartum me and what is left of me now do not provide a great background for the array of shirts. So, as I put one on this morning, Boy 1 stated that ‘I looked like a boy’. Fair enough. It’s a polo shirt so I can see his angle. In the GW pile it went. Shirt two goes on and as I debate its future….Boy 1 declared “You look fat. You are fat Mommy.”…and giggled. I know I am no supermodel but fat? I tried to figure out where he got the idea to call me fat while I desperately tried to look presentable for work. Then it hit me, all the times I irritably dressed and remarked “I hate this! I have no clothes! I look fat!”….it was me. It was MY fault. Ashamed of what I subjected him through, I vowed to keep my comments to myself going forward. Out of the mouth of babes was no longer funny. It was hurtful. As I scrolled my Facebook newsfeed this morning, I saw an article I will link in comments that fueled me to take a few minutes out of my busy schedule and give a little PSA to all my friends around here. Love yourself, love your body….and if you don’t….do NOT let your children know how you loathe your body. Love to all my beautiful ladies reading this today……