family, humor, motherhood

Better Already

Throughout my life I have had many best friends.

Some real, most imagined.

Sarah Jessica Parker, Princess Kate, and Abby Wambach are a few examples.  These are the women that inspire me and help me to dream bigger dreams for myself.

My current ‘best friend’ is Melinda Gates.  While it is mildly possible the Gates Foundation has slightly more monetary resources than the giving fund Mad Dog and I started, Melinda’s philanthropic sensibilities are the paragon I hope to follow.  She grew up in Texas and, when the world was accessible, I would drive by the high school she attended on my way to workout. This makes our ‘friendship’ seem all the more real.  I live near where she grew up.  I live near where she learned how to code.  I live near where she became the person she is today.

See?  Anything is possible.

Mad Dog recently sent me an article about books Melinda recommended.  Since she is one of my very best friends, I immediately bought them.  One in particular, The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo, has daily entries to help open your mind and heart to a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you.  It is awesome, but honestly, my best friend wouldn’t recommend anything subpar I can promise you that.

Since I am deep in the self-quarantining phase of life, I have several books that I am reading simultaneously (I kind of roll like that anyway in regular life, too), and found myself with this glorious recommended book in serious need of a bookmark (as all others were in use).  Ever the problem solver, I marched back to the game room and announced the boys needed to make me one.  Yes, there was some serious pause and a healthy dash of attitude thrown my way, but I persevered.

“I gave you life.  Because of me you have life.  Make. Me. A. Bookmark.  Now.”

It took them a few minutes, but they did it.  I also made it clear, please, take it seriously.  Write something thoughtful and inspiring on it as I will be reading this book every day.

First up, I read Full Speed’s side:

IMG_8503He did not let me down.

Well done.

Next up, T.Puzzle:

It’s super emotional so if you are the sensitive-type, gather up your courage before you look at it:

 

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Look at that, you just read this whole post.

The world thanks you.

I thank you.

Don’t you feel better already?

 

 

dogs, humor, motherhood

Love is All Around

I love Love.

I really, really do.

I love it so much in fact (Star Wars spoiler alert), I still held out hope Kylo Ren and Rey would get married at the end of the Rise of Skywalker.

#ReyloEverAfter

Love shows up in all forms.  That’s what makes it so incredibly awesome.  Snuggling with a favorite pet, having lunch with a best friend, even sunshine breaking through the clouds on a rainy day all feel like love to me.

Whether you love Love or not, you may agree there is value in expressing how we feel to those we care about.  I make it a point, and happily so, to tell my boys how much I love them on a regular basis.  Being that they are teenagers, as you might imagine, this goes over like gangbusters.

“Full Speed, Full Speed, Full Speed!” I said.  I love to say his name several times in a row because it bothers him.  This is how I know he will pay attention to what I have to say next because, really mom … stop.  Just. Stop.

“Full Speed, Full Speed, Full Speed!  I love you so much!  I really do!  I love everything about you.”

I held my breath in anticipation for what was sure to be an articulate and wondrous response:

“Okay?”

Well, not exactly the enthusiasm I was looking for so I move on to my next target son.

“T.Puzzle!  I love you so much!  You know what I love the most about you?

(wait for it … )

Everything!”

T.Puzzle heard me, took a moment to process and, as he backed slowly out of the room said, “Well that just warms my heart.”

Yep!  That’s it.  That’s all I get.

I am so ready for Google translation to figure out dogspeak.

I know Max wouldn’t let me down.

#TrueLove

#FurEver

#IAlsoLovePuns

#MadDogIsAHottie

#HappyValentinesDay

#YouRock

#YesIMeanYOU

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humor, motherhood

Zen Training

I plopped down next to Full Speed to help him sort and fold some laundry.  Every once in awhile I like to help the boys with an occasional assigned chore.  My hope is that it teaches them to help others without being asked.

“What is your plan for me to come get you for the dentist tomorrow?” I said.

“What time is it?” said Full Speed.

This is where time seemed to slow down.  I felt myself leaving my body, hovering over the scene as anger arose from within me.

“I know you are not asking me what time your appointment is.  The one that I told you about and ask that you develop a plan for when I should come get you.  The one that I sent you a text message with the details and reminded you to figure out when I should come get you.  I am trying really hard to not sound annoyed right now, but I realize I am not doing a very good job.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute! You know you have to tell me things at least four times before I actually remember them,” said Full Speed (for the record I did, probably more).

It seems I could tell each and every one of the men I live with about appointments a thousand times and it would not be enough.

Eventually, with some mindful breathing, I accepted the situation as it was.  I also calmed my mood by realizing that I won’t always have to be in charge of my boys’ appointments.  At some point, they will need to figure that stuff out on their own.  My guess is, especially in the realm their future dental care, scurvy could be a real possibility for them…

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Later that night, I was writing out an early dismissal note for Full Speed.

“What period will you be leaving?” I said.

“I’ll leave after seventh period,” Full Speed said.

As T.Puzzle sauntered in the room, he caught a snippet of the conversation.

“Why is Full Speed leaving early?” said T.Puzzle.

“For your dentist appointment,” I said.

“Wait. When is that again?” said T.Puzzle.

I would write more but for the safety of my children, I have relocated to a monastery to begin my zen training in earnest.

I have no other option.

 

 

 

 

 

 

happiness, humor, motherhood

How Do You Know? You Don’t.

We were at T.Puzzle’s thirteen year wellness check.  He was sailing through, crushing milestones and checking all the boxes landing him in healthy ranges for almost everything (screen time average was the only number in question).

The nurse turned to me and said, “Any concerns?”

“No. Unless you have a magic formula for getting a thirteen year old boy to articulate his thoughts,” I said.

The nurse could empathize.  She experienced a similar phenomenon with her now seventeen year old son.  Every question she asked him was met with an, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I don’t know.”

How is it possible that once boys reach the age of thirteen they don’t know anything?  Where does all their knowledge go?  How do they make it through the day not knowing anything?

As we waited in the exam room for the doctor to appear, I decided to investigate this communication/knowledge block.

“So, T.Puzzle.  Do you talk to your friends at school?” I said.

“Yes.”

“What do you talk about?” I said.

“Stuff.”

Wow. I could sense I was really getting somewhere.  I continued my sure-be-successful line of questioning:

“What else do you talk about?”

“Sometimes, we talk about things.”

Oh, the stuff and sometimes the things.  It all makes sense to me now.

“Why are you able to talk to them but not me?”

“Because they don’t ask me questions,” he said.

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  Oh no!  It’s happening.

I don’t know.

I really, truly don’t.

 

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humor, motherhood, parenting

My Brush with Danger

As the lone female in our house I get that I am more detailed oriented when it comes to self-care and the minutiae of running a home.  It then lands on me to decide how important I think something is and to the degree I want to pursue it.

Take toothbrushes for example.  I took it upon myself to buy everyone electric brushes because I believe (or at least believe the marketing) that these will improve my boys’ oral hygiene (especially with T.Puzzle newly in braces).  This particular kind sends you replacement heads every three months.

Great.

So the three month mark arrives and it’s time to replace.  Absolutely no one other than myself cares about this.

No one.

Either I replace them all or all three of my guys will use the brush they have indefinitely.

While I did drag my feet on principle I couldn’t take it anymore and set about getting new bristles in place.

The grime I encountered on the boys’ brushes as I did so made my skin crawl.  I’m not sure what it was or how my boys had not yet contracted a flesh-eating bacteria from it, but the muck and guck in and around the toothbrush holder and on the toothbrushes themselves, made me queasy, queasy, queasy.

How they saw that and still used the brushes is a mystery or a remarkable act of courage.

I now have a choice.  I can give them instructions on the ins and outs of daily brush care, or I can let it go.

If I let it go, which is the direction I am leaning, I am praying that I can Amazon Prime myself a hazmat suit for when the next replacement bristles arrive.

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Lucky to be alive