A wiggly tooth can throw you off balance

Tonight is the night. It finally came. My son. My easy-going, easy-to-please 5-year-old son finally lost his first tooth.

He got his first wiggly tooth about five days ago. He’s been sitting idly by watching his older sister pop out teeth like popcorn lately. After each tooth fairy visit, he would do a check.

Nope. Nothing wiggling.

Poor guy. He so desperately wanted a wiggly tooth. And then, the other night… it was there. I went to help him brush and he had a tooth nearly sideways. He didn’t even know it. When I told him, the sheer look of joy on his face was just too cute for words. He was sooooo excited!

And so was I!

Then, I realized. The next day he would go to his Dad’s. For four days. And most likely lose that first tooth. Without me. I know it’s selfish. But I was unbelievably disappointed.

It’s the first time in a while that the ‘unfairness’ of divorce hit me again. Unfair that I may miss my son’s first wiggly tooth. And I’ll admit it. I was upset. Especially as I just LOVE the tooth fairy visits.

While the precedence I’ve set makes the whole process more difficult, I love it. Love telling the story of how the tooth fairy brings special little gifts. Because the tooth fairy is tiny and her little wings aren’t that strong. I love listening to the kids dream up what might be small enough for her to carry.

I love the tooth in a bag. I love the special placement under the pillow. The expectation of what may be and sneaking in, in the night to carefully pry the tooth out from under the sleeping head. I love discussing the order of finding the present. Will he wake me first? His sister first? Look at the gift by himself first?

I was downright bummed thinking I was going to miss it. This was one of those times, I really hate divorce. A time when I can get really angry about the parts of my kids’ lives that I have to miss. I know it’s my reality. And I’ve accepted it and feel we are really in a good place. Finally found a way to make it work well for all of us.

But not for the first wiggly tooth.

So, I was angry for a bit, (mostly at myself for being angry) but then got over it. And tried to make the most of it. Because, really, what else can I do?

I called each night. Asked for ‘wiggly tooth updates’ and did my best to stay involved. And the days ticked down with the tooth still intact. I’ve been searching for weeks to find the perfect tooth fairy gift. My little guy, the guy who barely asks for anything, is hoping beyond hope that the tooth fairy will bring him a ‘teeny, tiny garage to fit his teeny, tiny car in.’

Guess what? They don’t make them.

Yesterday, the kids came back. And surprise of all surprises, that tooth was still there! So, I encouraged him to wiggle it, fed him pears and had corn on the cobb for tonight.

Then, when I picked him up after school… he had the tooth in a bag and a smile on his face. I tell you, it made my whole year!

As I finish this blog, waiting to make sure he’s sound asleep, I can’t wait to sneak the ‘teeny, tiny garage’ under his pillow that I happened to stumble upon today. (Ok, so it’s a dog house, but it’ll serve the purpose, I know it will!) I can’t wait to see his face.

That adorable little face that now has a gap in the center bottom. I know I’m his Mom no matter where he is. I know I’m a part of his experiences whether they happen at our house or at his father’s.

I know that in my head, but I don’t always feel it in my heart when I have to miss out.

But for that first wiggly tooth… I’m so grateful I got to tell him it was there. So happy he got to tell me it came out. And so thrilled the tooth fairy happened in our house.

It’s true. There is something magical about the tooth fairy.

Relationships are like TVs

Look at this. My sad, sad old analog TV. Just recently, I finally got rid of it. Replaced it with a flat screen.

It’s a little sad as I have some nostalgia tied up in it. Well, maybe not nostalgia. I’ve just had it so long, I’m used to the crappy picture and poor sound.

I haven’t even really questioned whether or not to keep it because I’m just used to it being there. I guess it’s comfortable.

Nothing wrong with that, right? Until it becomes more work than it’s worth.

You can see where this is going, can’t you?

Lately, this TV has been a TON of work and getting more expensive. And why was I doing this? Oh right! To spend more money and time to keep a crappy picture and poor sound.

Ridiculous. Time to cut my losses. It’s no longer working for me. And I’m tired of trying.

Sometimes relationships work the same way. Romantic, family, professional or friends. Without even realizing it, I can sometimes put a lot or work into a relationship only to realize… it’s not really working for me. I’m just keeping it around because I’m used to it being there.

It’s not even a particularly good relationship.

Sometimes I forget that simple little question… is this working for me? Coupled with… is it worth the energy I’m putting in?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m willing to work. I’ve worked my butt off for some really great relationships that I have in my life that went through some really bumpy times. Many times, I nearly threw in the towel out of sheer exhaustion. Now, looking back? I’m really glad I didn’t. I’m glad I stuck it out and worked to make those relationships stick.

And then there are those other times. The times I haven’t thrown in the towel soon enough. Knocked my head against the wall until sheer exhaustion strikes.

Isn’t that the million dollar question? When do you quit trying? When are you just stubbornly trying to fit a square peg in a round hole and when are you persevering?

I don’t know. I don’t have those answers, but it’s always worth a good look.

So, with spring coming, it’s a good time for me to go through clothes, TVs, clean-up and re-evaluate. Where do I want to put my energy? Where do I want to invest my time? 

Honestly, it’s often clearer than I give it credit. If I only see what is there versus seeing what I want to see.

Kinda like the crispness of a new digital picture.

Sometimes a new fresh look puts the old one in perspective.

New places, new faces

Married with children. Didn’t someone do a sitcom on that once?

When I was ‘Married with Children’… I’ll admit. I got comfortable. Not as in sitting-on-my-couch-eating bon-bons type of comfortable. More like sprinting in a crazy-rat-race-of-expectations-to-try-and-be-everything-to-everybody type of comfortable.

It doesn’t sound too comfortable, does it? But what happened was that taking on anything new was out of the question and completely uncomfortable. So, I just… didn’t.

Nowadays, I have a different perspective. I’m mostly out of ‘that’ rat race but maybe in a different kind of race. The single-Mom-with-shared-custody-race. It’s completely different with its own sets of challenges and rewards. Not better. Not worse. Just different.

But in some ways, I feel calmer, in general, knowing that sometimes I will fail. Even fail big. But knowing it won’t be the end of the world if I do.

Given this, these days I find myself ‘game’ for all sorts of new places and new faces.

One important piece of this is the job I started last year. One that has been a pretty good fit  especially as my old job was comfortable. This one has me out and about around town, involved in the business of the city and meeting lots of new people, learning lots of new things. Whether I want to or not. It’s an adrenaline high just to keep up and manage my schedule with my kids.

But what I’ve found is that I actually want to. Keep up, that is. And it’s not a deterrent from my kids or my life. I actually have capacity.

In addition to that, I’m lucky to have great groups of friends. Long-term friends and new acquaintances, in all walks of life. Inviting me to places when I used to say no.

No, because I ‘shouldn’t’ take time away from the kids.’ No, because I ‘felt guilty not spending the time with my husband.’ No, because I ‘should get things done around the house.’ And the list goes on. All, primarily self-induced. 

Now, as a single Mom with joint custody, I recognize the choices I have. Choices, frankly I had before but thought that I didn’t.

The map to new places.

I can sit in my house and stare at my walls, never to be seen or heard from again. Or get out there and explore. What’s the risk? I might look ridiculous? As I’ve said, been there, done that. Got the complimentary t-shirt.

A few years ago, I had to be dragged out. And my friends and family obliged.Then, I started to go, more willingly, but still with trepidation.

Now, I really enjoy the new places, the new faces. And sometimes, I even seem to be the instigator.

In this process, I have to say, I’m acquiring some really great stories. Some that are downright hilarious. Some almost unbelievable. But most are just truly great experiences. With fun new people in fun new places that I would probably not have explored when I was “Married with Children.”

And the fact I didn’t explore them before is not the fault of my ex-husband. Not the fault of having children. Not some type of cosmic circumstance that I was dealt. It was my perspective, my capacity level and my  moment in time that I mistook for forever.

Ultimately, it’s what I chose for myself.

So, now I’m choosing differently. What’s next? What will be my next new place? My next new face?

I really have absolutely no idea. But as I’ve said before… there’s only one way to find out.

Remade

Holidays. I love them. The family. The tradition. The magic. The nostalgia.

Holiday always seems to make me philosophical. Easter Sunday was no different this year.

We had a fabulous day. Finding baskets. Finding eggs.

A note from the Easter bunny answering the kids’ questions. The new tradition from my sister of  planting magic jelly beans that grow into morning surprises. And Easter Sunday church service. 

I love the holidays.

And lately, it seems each holiday holds a new little lesson for me. A new perspective on life. I’m not sure why.

Today’s church service had the message about being ‘remade.’ No surprise with Easter, the service was about renewing, rebirth. (This isn’t a blog post about church and religion… I’ll leave that for anyone else but me.)

But the ‘remade’ part. It’s such a great term. That’s exactly how I feel.

Remade.

Sometimes I feel remade into a completely different person. Others times I feel remade into someone I used to be. And other times it’s a combination of ‘new’ versus ‘old.’

Enough people have told me that I have to believe it is true. (And I don’t think it’s the change from blonde to brunette!) I get lots of comments about how different I am these days from four or five years ago.

I’m not always sure how to take that, but I have to agree. I feel different. And I wish I could specifically say how. But I can’t always articulate it.

Today, I finally could. I feel remade. Remade by life. Remade by determination. Remade by life events. Remade by my own choices… some good… some bad. But remade, none-the-less.

And I don’t think the process has a beginning or an end. I think it’s lifelong. Many times, I think the remaking was gradual over my life. Sometimes I probably tried to force a ‘remaking’ when it wasn’t there or wasn’t time. I just don’t know that I ever paid attention to it or thought about it before. 

The last three years… was probably a warp-speed remake. But it’s been interesting however I look at it. 

So, it begs the question, am I better than I was?

I feel if my answer isn’t a resounding YES!… then I’m lacking some type of self-confidence. But the truth is, I’m not sure if the answer lies with a better or worse ‘than before.’

For me the answer lies with who I want and need to be today.

What about tomorrow? Will the remaking be appropriate tomorrow?

I’m really not sure. I don’t have that answer.

But I do know… there’s only one way to find out…

A Happier Medium

Is there a ‘non-traditional’ way to have a long-term, committed and intimate relationship?

Something that falls between casually involved and married under the same roof?

It’s what I’m referring to as ‘a Happier Medium.’

I tried the ‘traditional and socially approved’ route that goes something like this:

• Meet THE GUY.
• Fall in love with THE GUY.
• Introduce THE GUY to friends and family. (Ta-da! It’s…THE GUY!)
• Get engaged.
• Get married. (Insert monochromatic bridesmaids, groomsmen and cake.)
• Get house.
• Get dog.
• Have kid #1.
• Have kid #2.

This is where the ‘socially approved’ stopped for me. Divorce came two years later.

So, now what?

Any relationship for me now involves a man who is not the father of my kids. A man who may potentially have children of his own and his own ex-spouse. Which also means navigating custody schedules, child support, shared holidays, not to mention all of the emotions of the kids and how everyone feels about it.

Whew. It’s daunting to say the least.

Therefore, ‘traditional’ is off the table. Which isn’t a bad thing. ‘Traditional’ didn’t equate to happy for me. So, I’d like to try something different. I’m bound and determined to learn lessons from my previous relationships and apply them moving forward.

Married with kids. Divorced with kids. Single. Dating. Never been married. Whatever your relationship status, it has its pros and cons.

And I find it interesting. Talking to people in different relationship statuses. What works, what doesn’t. Expectations and perceptions.

One such conversation sticks in my head. It was with a gal pal who is twice married, for more than seven years. I asked her, now in hindsight, would she get married a second time?

Her answer was simple. “It’s not the marriage, it’s the living together. I’d do two houses. Side-by-side. Maybe with an adjoining walkway.”

We laughed about it, while recognizing the brilliance of it.

Is this it? The Happier Medium?

I’m a huge fan of her idea! It doesn’t have to take away from the commitment, the intimacy or the sharing of your lives. It also doesn’t have to take away from good old fashioned time together, meeting each other’s families or knowing each other’s kids.

But what it does provide is:

Very.

Clear.

Boundaries.

You take care of your stuff and I’ll take care of mine. We can choose to share and help. But the boundaries are clear.

Takes away a lot of the things couples argue about, doesn’t it?

Now, I’m not saying the theory is without potential flaws. And yes, any healthy relationship should be able to draw clear boundaries regardless of where you live. But as many of us know, it’s hard. Being roommates has foiled many a friendship and sunk many a marriage.

So, I’m curious. A committed, intimate, co-mingled relationship. You may spend every night together and be all up in each other’s business… if you choose. But you don’t live together.You don’t get married. You choose the commitment.

Can a daily choice work better than a forever choice?

Could it be? The Happier Medium?

What do you think?

The corner once turned

It was one of those moments. The ones I want to hang onto forever. I try to find ways to cement them into my memory for when the kids are teenagers and I need to remove the door from their hinges or ground them indefinitely.

And when one of those moments present themselves, I can’t help but look back. And see where we have come from.

It wasn’t so long ago when I thought I had ruined my kids forever. Shattered their lives and given them no chance to succeed. It’s honestly how I felt after my divorce. It doesn’t matter that I wasn’t the one who wanted the divorce, I felt like a failure. My failure would be their demise. And it became most apparent when I looked at my kids and the impact on their lives.

I remember being so devastated, so lost… I couldn’t handle their emotions, their feelings of loss. I tried and tried to ‘be there for them’ but I didn’t know how. People would tell me over and over again… love them. Support them. Give them stability. It’s all you need to do. Don’t compete. Don’t try to make every moment fantastic.

Just. Be. You.

Tall order when I didn’t know who I was. So, we muddled through. And we tried to figure it out. I was sure I was failing every day and failing miserably.

And then, when I wasn’t looking, we turned a corner. We moved forward. And we haven’t looked back.

The other night, during ‘a moment’ with my daughter, I realized how far we’ve come. We were snuggling. Having our usual pillow talk. That time when the lights are off and we can talk about anything. We’ve done it for years and it’s the time of day we both treasure.

During the snuggle, she matter-of-factly told me how much she likes solving problems with me, sharing her deep secrets with me. “I know I can talk to you about anything, Mommy, because you know me better than anyone else. And I know you will love me, no matter what, even if I’m being bad. I know I’m safe with you.”

So simple. But it was so important to me. After living through days of my kids crying, wanting to go to their father’s house instead of being with me. Telling me how much more ‘fun’ he was and how ‘boring’ I could be. Huge tears and hugs when he left. Nothing when I did.

It killed me. I doubted myself. I didn’t think I was ‘doing it right.’ And I thought I had ruined them, ruined their lives. People told me, stay stable. Love them. It will come around.

And now, today, not only have we turned that corner, I can’t even see it anymore.

We three?

We work. We’re solid. We’ve got each other’s backs. No matter what. And there’s no doubt. No question.

Sometimes we’re boring. Sometimes we’re crabby. Sometimes, downright mad. And I have plenty, PLENTY, of not-so-proud parenting moments.

But now I know. I didn’t ruin them. I didn’t destroy them. And I will pull them through anything. It’s a very comforting feeling. One I didn’t realize I had. One I have no idea how I got.

But it’s there. And we are, decidedly ‘just us.’ And I love it that way.

Especially when ‘those moments’ come around.

When the gal with a plan has none

“Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

Remember that book? It was custom-made for me. In fact, it was given to me. Maybe even several times.

I remember hating that book. Thinking, maybe even saying out loud, “That’s all well and good. But if I don’t sweat the small stuff, who will?”

I totally missed the point. No one will. And no one needs to. Duh.

But, I was the gal with a plan. Always. And a contingency plan. Reading the tea leaves, looking for hints, analyzing all details in case I needed to change the plan. I wanted to be prepared.

Then, life decided to teach me a lesson. Things don’t always work out the way you plan. And then, you have to start over. Right then. Right there. From scratch.

I didn’t plan on being a single Mom. Didn’t spend time thinking about it, worrying about it or planning for it. Yet. It came anyway. And here I am, figuring it out.

The sun still comes up. I’m still standing and my kids are still breathing. Sure, we have our rocky times, but all in all, we’re doing well.

And here’s the weird part. I’m actually getting comfortable, and starting to prefer, not having a plan. I mean, I have a semblance of a plan. I look at it as putting together a puzzle. I have my borders/boundaries put together. And I have some of the very important pieces that are shaping the picture. But, I don’t know exactly what the picture will look like. Every time I add a new important piece, I find the picture isn’t quite what I expected.

And that’s OK. I want to shape the picture as I go. It feels ridiculous to me to say what it will look like in 1 year, 5 years, 10 years or more. A new opportunity could change my mind. A new person could give me a different perspective. An event may throw me on a different, unexpected course. And I may re-evaluate and go after a new direction.

Which means, I guess, I’m living in — and enjoying — the moment more. And figuring out the tough stuff when/if the tough stuff comes along. I’m not quite sure when that happened, but it seemed to have happened when I wasn’t looking.

But I’m curious. Can you keep the perspective? Or does ‘life’ get in the way? When the pace picks up, do you return to your old habits? Or once you learn, do you keep it forever?

Now, don’t get my wrong. I’m not completely cured. There are times I find myself in search of my old crystal ball. Getting out my secret decoder ring and trying to read the clues for the future. But, I’m getting better at realizing how ridiculous that is for me and stopping sooner.

What’s the worst that can happen? I’m caught unprepared? I look a bit ridiculous?

Been there. Done that. Got the complimentary t-shirt.

There are a lot of good things happening in this moment. And many small things that deserve a laugh.

I mean who wants to be all sweaty anyway?

I was on the grassy knoll

Seriously. I’m the queen of taking blame for things that have nothing to do with me. On any given day, I might admit to the Kennedy assassination, even though I wasn’t born yet.

It’s something I’m aware of and that I’m working on. But, it’s slow going.

I know. It’s this enlightening, transforming, revolutionary new concept that I personally have created and aim to perfect. Ready? It’s called, Letting Others Be Accountable for Their Own Actions.

Hold the applause. I’m like Einstein. Stand back. I’m waiting for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Why is this so difficult? Why is it so easy to make someone else’s poor behavior my fault? Maybe I don’t want to recognize someone else is actually capable of being a jerk all on his/her own? Maybe I’m just unbelievably self-absorbed and think the world revolves around me?

Not sure, but I need to knock it off.

I have this friend who suffers from the same affliction. We played volleyball together for years. And without fail, every missed ball, every side-out was somehow his fault. Even if he was nowhere near the ball, he still apologized.

And it drove me crazy. Annoyed the hell out of me. Yet, here I am, years later, virtually doing the same thing. Annoying others (I’m sure, although no one has called me out on it) with the same behavior. Whether near the ball, on the bench or in the gym next door, I seem to think every side-out is my fault.

It doesn’t matter if it’s poor DNA, I’m working to stop it.

I have this exercise with my 8-year-old daughter… often. It’s when she is having a conflict, usually with a friend when her feelings have been hurt.

I’ll say, “What is your job?” The answer is usually to tell the person how she feels. That’s it. That’s normally the beginning, middle and end of it. Then, look at her own behavior, decide what she wants, what she doesn’t. (Again, rocket science, I realize.)

She’ll usually go into, ‘This person HAS to do XYZ’ in order for her to feel better. To which I normally pipe in with, ‘Ok how will you make them do XYZ?’

Startling. She can’t. She has to figure out a way to feel better all on her own.

And, so do I.

Sometimes people make bad choices and do hurtful things. I make plenty of them. Ironically, I never feel like my bad choices are someone else’s fault. Why do I seem unable to turn that lens on when the poor choices are someone else’s?

Well, it’s a work in progress. It won’t change today, but I’m going to be aware of it and work toward that goal.

So, I’ll start with… I actually wasn’t on the grassy knoll. I don’t have a Dallas police officer uniform and I’m completely unable to doctor a photo of Lee Harvey Oswald.

Whew. That was easier than I thought.

Baby steps.

Maintaining patience in high heels

My son needs a close look at the fix.

“When God was handing out patience, he skipped right over Mommy!”

This is a phrase I now hear my kids repeat. Apparently it stuck. Probably because it’s true.

Patience. Is not one of my virtues. Nor is asking for help. Stubbornness? I seemed to have acquired plenty of that. Great combination, don’t you think?

All three converged the other night when I came home around 10pm, still in my work clothes and heels to find a garage door that wouldn’t close. Again. This time, in 10 degree weather.

I was irritated. And then, determined.

I’ve been battling with this garage door and kept thinking I fixed it. See, I’m the third daughter of a mechanic, so I know just enough to be dangerous. And will often try to  figure things out on my own vs asking for help.

So, that night, I’d had it. I decided to stop with my lazy fixes and try to figure it out. Really, try.

I ripped off the bottom and started in. I was freezing! But I wasn’t giving up. Except to post occasional irritations on Facebook. A good friend offered to send over her husband, but I said I was fine. (Actually, ‘yes, please!’ would have been a better response.)

It seems, since I’ve become a single Mom, I’ve actually become worse at asking for help. And it’s not because I’m never offered it. I’m actually offered it a lot. But I’m not good at taking it. I feel this need to do things on my own. Even more so now.

Why? To show people I’m alright? To show I’m capable? Or maybe it’s the sense of pride I feel when I’ve accomplished the task without help? (I have to say, I was pretty proud of myself when I replaced the leaky kitchen faucet. Not so proud when I had to do it all over again.)

Maybe it’s because I do get some of the ‘aw, poor you’ type comments about being a single Mom. Plenty of the ‘keep your chin up’ comments if I’m not immediately in a relationship. And plenty of comments about my kids coming from a ‘divorced home’ any time they have a bad day.

I know. It’s the stigma and they are usually from people who don’t know me well. So, why should I care? Especially as I’m fortunate to have plenty who know me well, encourage me on and offer me help.

Whatever the reason, the garage door and I had it out that evening. When I finally figured out the why and got the stupid thing to close, I tell you, I nearly did a jig in the freezing garage. I was actually excited to show and explain it to my son!

Maybe this accomplishment will knock some gigantic chip off my shoulder? I doubt it.

But, good trait or bad, it seems I have to own it. So, chalk one up:

Single Moms – 1
Garage door – 0

Subtly smart or incredibly insensitive?

My daughter’s note. A kiss-up move that made me feel bad all the same time.

My kids gave me food for thought on the gender difference. How men and women handle emotional conflict. When someone is not only mad, but pissed.

As I was.

Is it an innate trait or a learned behavior? The classic nature vs. nurture?

Maybe it was just an age thing, personality thing, birth order thing… or just the day. But it got me thinking.

The basic gist, I was in full-on crabby parent mode due to excessive fighting, bickering and tattling from my kids. Both asked me if I was mad. Which I responded, “Yes!” Then, detailed as to why.

My 8-year-old daughter immediately went into overdrive with, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Can we start over? We’ll be good!” And went on to make the above post-it note.

My 5-year old son? He said, “Oh.”

And wandered off to play cars by himself. Completely unfazed. Not a second of angst.

Ironically, my son’s reaction actually worked better for all involved. If he wasn’t five, most would call it insensitive. He didn’t try to engage me. Didn’t try to talk to me in that moment.

In fairness, my son came around after I calmed down. Sweet little look on his face. Big blue eyes and a… “I’m sorry, Mommy. I’ll be better. I love you.”

Brilliant, that 5-year-old. (Or… a manipulator in the making!) But he acknowledged that he knew I was mad. Waited until I was calm. And then apologized when I could fully hear it.

My daughter, however, was bound and determined to make me… un-mad. The more she tried, the madder I got. The more I reiterated to her why I was mad, even though I had nothing new to say. Nothing beyond my initial outburst.

Then, she made me the above note. Very sweet, and I immediately felt bad for my ranting at her.

My point had been made. But given the opportunity, I drilled it home and made her feel worse than the behavior deserved. (Yes, a proud parenting moment, I admit.)

Hmmm… as much as I hate to admit it? I’ve done this. I’ll sheepishly admit to trying to change the way people think or feel. Versus just letting them be… mad. Or irritated. Sad or whatever emotion I don’t think they should be feeling. It’s not a conscious decision, but ultimately, it’s what I’m doing.

I’m not suggesting to ignore issues or not talk about them. I think communication is very important. But isn’t how? When? And when you stop, just as important as what you’re saying? If not more?

So, it is a female vs. male trait? Just one in my household? Ultimately, was my son’s reaction only better because he’s five and cute? Or is it a better approach in general?

I don’t have the answer but it made me think about how I handle emotional conflicts in my life. Makes me rethink my behaviors.

What do you think?