Senior Sunday

 Class of 2024

The Last First Day

*squeeeeee* Here's my baby -- My Little One. This photo is the last First Day of School picture we'll take. I'm not crying; YOU'RE CRYING!

MLO's senior year will be one of late arrivals, no driver's license, half-easy/half-difficult classes: Anatomy & Physiology, English, Economics/Government, 2D Studio Art, AP Ceramics, Audio/Visual somethingsomething, the next class after taking the intro class last year.  No math! No foreign language! No physical education! 

There will be random metal detectors erected to search for guns, knives, vapes, e-cigarettes & I don't know what else -- aren't those things (scary) enough? Is it any wonder teens today feel so anxious?? 

This child marvelously talented & insightful young human is exceptional. Yeah, yeah, all parents say their kid is exceptional, I know. I know. I do! But this one IS! The old soul, then depth & breadth of subject matter we discuss, the deep & wide empathy they possess -- makes me cry. I cry from humility and awe, joy & wonder. I absolutely LOVE watching them grow up. The mere fact that they include me in their life fills my heart with a kind of happiness I don't really know how to describe. My heart is FULL. It's swollen. I FEEL it in my chest when I laugh & cry & listen & learn with them. 

It's been an interesting couple years...

Super Bowl Sunday 2022, MLO decided to take a stand and refuse to go back to their dad's house & hasn't been back since. It was very rocky for a while. My anxiety was heightened. My fear that he'd kill my kids and/or me was palpable. Neighbors and friends were notified to be on the look-out for erratic behavior. Family was notified. Therapists and employers were put on notice. The pulse has stabilized over time, but I stay vigilant. There've been phone conversations and texts exchanged on special occasions, but that's about it in terms of MLO being in contact with their dad. I remind them I will support any decision they make regarding if & when to see or talk to their dad, and I always will. I'm grateful he's honored their decision all this time. If the tables were turned, I know I'd be fraught with sadness.

The gaslighting he pulled was sickening, trying to tell MLO they're 'crazy'. He questioned her mental health & tried to use religion, psychology & family to manipulate her. But she did her homework, man. She sought counsel with a family law attorney to ask questions, understand their rights & obligations, talked to her therapist, got a script prepared. The resolve they continue exhibit is nothing less than remarkable. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far, we're holding steady.

They were seeing a psychiatrist and a counselor, taking anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medication. Now, they're med-free & feel happier, healthier. MLO is so close to being free from the legal monkey on their back. So close. There's still a long way to go but they're thriving!

We'll take this a day at a time, feeling each emotion, honoring it & processing it as it presents. I hope this year will be filled with their favorite things, foraging new memories, absorbing excellence academically and humanistically. I'm not sure which will make them happier: being free from the divorce decree or graduating. Either way, it'll be a good year. 

Love & be loved.

x

Microwaves

 I bought a house!

YaY!

There's no microwave.

hahahahah!

I'm laughing because My Girls don't know life without one. 

I've been in the new house about a month or so, but have had a fridge for about 2+ weeks. We ate out almost all our meals, which was expensive, bloating and convenient.

Now that we have a fridge, I make food (or order it, sometimes, still - sadly). Leftovers! Leftovers get stored in the fridge. Yet, for some reason, leftovers can't get warmed up because we have no microwave. 

"Should I just throw the rest of this (entire meal) away since we can't re-heat it?"

Ummmmmm...... NnnNnnnNNNNNNNnnoooOOOoOoOooooooo.

YA RE-heat it!

So, guess who is getting lessons on how to warm up food? MY GIRLS.

The delayed gratification is so uncomfortable. "When are we getting a microwave???" and "Are we even going to get a microwave????" and "What kind of microwave are we getting? When's it get here?".

*SMH*

I think I'll keep the microwave purchase on hold a little while longer, so when the end-times come, My Girls will know how to cook for themselves. :P

 

Learning Quarterbacks

Remember these? If you're a football fan, you likely had a set of these or know someone who owned a set. My brother had a set. The Dallas Cowboys was the coveted pencil, of course. The Houston Oilers might've been a distant second.

These pencils played a different role in my life.

I was able to use these pencils to learn the names of all - what were then - 28 teams of the National Football League.

The National Football League was the entertainment my dad most enjoyed, it seemed. I'm sure his life was more exciting that watching dudes scrap around some field over a pigskin, and his interests more varied than that, but to his young daughter, the Sunday event of watching football as much as possible from any area in the word to which he was stationed, these were a key to a connection that sparked a life-long interest well into MY adulthood. Watching a Cowboys game in Germany was no easy feat back in the 70s! So you can see why this made such an impact on me.

I remember looking at the team names on each pencil and memorizing them. I'd look up where the cities were located. I then began learning the names of every starting NFL quarterback based on the team names I extrapolated from those two-toned, team-colors-reppin' sticks of wood and lead. I'd memorize a few (Staubach, Pastorini, Griese, Bradshaw....)  then go ask my dad for a few more (Morton, Whitehurst, Theisman, Stabler....). I don't know if he enjoyed the challenge or was annoyed by my inquisition, but I managed to get the names of each quarterback out of him. In retrospect, this was the first "memory" I have of "bonding" with Dad. 

Dad and I remained loyal Dallas Cowboys fans. Dad parted ways with them when Jerry Jones fired Tom Landry, but I manage to hang on, sometimes by a thread. I've grown into an avid football fan (I can do without college, though); I've played in and won a couple fantasy leagues, and I run the work One Pick. I'm no expert but I know enough to hold a more-than-casual conversation with a fellow sports nut.

Furthermore, a little giggle on my part: I noticed these pencils were made by Faber Castell. This is the same brand that My Little One buys for some of her sketches, anime drawings and other art work. A bit of a thread to bind us all together, wouldn't you say?

GO COWBOYS

Friday Funday: If My Daughters Were Alpacas 🦙

Happy Birthday, America! 🇺🇸

Snapchat is fun! Kids're keepin' me young & hip (or relevant?)!

Wordless Wednesday: My Two Blondes

Throwback Thursday: Dancing Blondes

Wordless Wednesday: Ken

Moving: An Attempt at Empathy

As THEY say, "Home is where the heart is".

As a kid, I moved around depending on where the Army sent my father. My family would arrive at a destination, we'd move in, get familiar with the schools, teachers, and various surroundings. Each new-turned-old destination was the same process: pack, process out of school (whatever that entailed), move, travel via plane or automobile, visit friends and family if the opportunity arose, arrive at next assignment, unpack, in-process for school, meet a new teacher, see faces of names unknown, get familiar with a new routine. The very words are rather clinical, no?

(Today, as I type this, I'm wondering if the generic physical structure of a house built on base helped our 'home' feel notsohomey so it was easier in some subconscious way to depart.) 

I'm in Texas now -- most of my life; I consider myself Texan*. I've planted roots and they have grown deep. My tree stretches as far west as El Paso, as far east as the piney woods past Winnsboro, as far north as Midland and Amarillo and as far south as Corpus Christi. The home I bought in the DFW area, I lived in for 10 years. There is a sense of HOME. Might be the aging, the life experience and wisdom gained, but I enjoy what I've seeded and 

During the mediation of my marriage dissolution, I walked away from any ownership of our home that we shared for 10 years. While I have sentimental ties to it, I was able to move out with relatively little look-back. Toward the end of my stay there, so many negative experiences occurred and the house itself didn't *feel* like home; it had physically changed to something resembling a clash of prison and half-assed DIY.

That's MY perspective. 

When I left Number Two ("NT"), I actually, physically, LEFT. I moved The Girls and I into an apartment. This is the first, real move they experienced. Now, NT has a new home & will be selling the only home those kiddos've ever known. I imagine they are pretty shaken.

By the time I was 16, the age of My Eldest, I had lived on two continents, moved five or six times in at least three states (Dad tried to get stationed in Texas as much as possible). When I was 11, MLO's age, I was living in Hawaii, surrounded by families I didn't know, in a culture I'd never seen or heard of, on a rock far away from the mainland. Thankfully, for the most part, I didn't have a hard time adjusting to new places and faces. My brother did, somewhat. My Girls -- I really don't know how they feel about their two moves from one house. I wonder if they even know how they feel? I worry, you know, about how this will fuck them up or make them better people.

I DO believe that roots are important, valuable, needed. I also believe change is unavoidable and though roots run deep, there is no reason to fear the winds of change, because we are seeds, fruit-bearing beings. No matter where you are, you can plant roots and build a forest in this world.

* Not the oil-wealthy, gun totin', horse ridin', look-at-everyone-as-a-conservative-or-we-are-enemies, boots for kicks, twangy southern drawl tawkin', bible-thumpin' kind; NOR the kind that plays for the NFL franchise in Houston.

Our Bucket Lists

I recently asked The Girls what they would have on their Bucket List. The three of us quickly jotted down a few things. Here's what we have (so far):

Boa:

Got to every country in the world

Go to every state in the U.S.

Go to the National Museum of History

Meet One Direction (including Zayn)

Go to the Super Bowl

Join the FBI




MLO:

Skydive

Get a puppy

Go to France

Go to Egypt

Meet a Biologist

Go the Four Corners

Learn to draw Anime

Get a Master's Degree (or at least a degree)



Me:

See an NFL game at Lambeau Field in the winter

See Duke basketball play at Cameron - Coach K Court

Take the Amtrak train on a trip

Tandem skydive

Zip line

Finish my undergraduate degree

Happy MOMster's Day

You can have your flowers, chocolates, brunches and day to yourselves. I am the recipient of the best MOMster's Day gift: a self-created Happy Mother's Day gift from MLO:

Life Lesson #1 for 2017: Detergents Matter

December 31, 2016, I was pretty sick. I guess it was a 24 hour bug or something.

I managed to stir out of bed to run the kiddos to the store so they could pick up a couple things, one being dishwasher detergent (I've caved. I don't mind hand washing, but the dishwasher is a friend now. Life happens, things change, y'know.).

The Three of Us get home & the Little One places a pod in the dishwasher & starts it.

I fall back asleep for a bit.

My Eldest, she's making lunch & as the oven beeps, she steps into a watery kitchen floor. I hear her gripe so I get out of bed & sure enough, there's dishwasher overflow. The garbage disposal has erupted foodgoop, there are frothy bubbles in the sink & a slow-stream finding its way along the tile caulking.

Eldest stops the dishwasher & I tell her to flip the switch to the garbage disposal. She does as I go fetch towels to soak up the waterfloor. I come back and spread out the towels; each of us using our feet to dancemop. Eldest says, "You're so brave!" I guess she thought it was a pretty big deal to run the garbage disposal? *laughing*

We finish the clean up and start the dishwasher again. It finishes its job & we are all merry again.

As I fade back to sleep, I thought it was weird that there was so much froth in the sink.

Sleep.

Today, I awaken and sluggishly start picking up around the house. I venture to the kitchen to do dishes, empty the dishwasher. I open the dishwasher door and wow it smells AMAZING! And the dishes were SO CLEAN; I mean, like, superextrasparklyclean!

My thoughts: Gosh, this smells like laundry! What scent is this?

It rushes in: OMGOSH, did they buy LAUNDRY detergent instead of dishwashing detergent?!

I open the cabinet and sure enough, it was laundry detergent! ha!

At least they're clean. :)

PRACTICLE LIFE LESSON

Dear Daughters: Be careful about the type of detergent you pick & how you use it. :P

Dear Me: I guess we have a Plan C?

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Happy New Year, All!
~~WHOOSH~~

Taller

Two nights ago, My Little One - a mere nine years old - was helping empty a box of groceries I ordered from Amazon Prime Pantry (which, by the way, is GREAT!).

To my surprise, she was able to put a bag of chips on top of the refrigerator, and I totally stopped my cooking, mouth agape, then commended her for growing up!

Me:  OMGOSH! You're tall enough to put the chips on top of the fridge?!?!?!?!
Her: Yeah. *shrug*

Clearly this is a bigger deal to me than her.  For a split second I wondered if she's been doing this for a while now and I just haven't seen it before. Then I went through a splitsplit second of feeling guilty, like I was too busy to notice her first step or something. But I've been doing a lot of soul work on not beating myself up so for a splitsplitSPLIT second, I kicked those negative thoughts to the curb and checked back OUT of *myself* and back IN to *her*.

Me: I had NO IDEA you were that tall!!
Her: *reaches with her finger tips to the top edge of the fridge -- on her tennis-shoed tippy toes, smiling PROUDLY*
Me: *smiles PROUDLY back*

Fast forward to this morning.....

She is fresh out of bed, wanders into the kitchen, hair in her face, slouching from notreadytobeawakeyetness.  I clear her mophair off her pretty face, revealing those gorgeous kissylips that's greeting me with a sleepy smile. I give her a soft kiss and tell her good morning.

Her:  I can't believe how tall I've grown! I have to bend down to touch the dogs tail now! It's like I have monkey arms.
Me: *laughs OUT LOUD* No, honey. Monkey arms are LONGER than normal. If you had monkey arms, they'd be closer to the ground.
Her:  Oh. Yeah. I meant T-Rex arms *she tucks her elbows into her ribcage, hands out front, waving them, talking in a babyvoice* Look at meeeee. I'm a T-Rex with baby arrrrrms.
Me: *giggling at her silliness*

Later, as I was on the train to work, I was reflecting on her perspective. We have a tendency to acknowledge the UPS of growing taller, but not acknowledge the DOWNS of growing taller. How many people would've thought, "I have to bend over to pet my dog now"?

I would've....at 44....when some kid brought it to my attention. But at her little nine year old mind, she was already cognizant of it.

Brains are awesome.
Thoughts are too.
And so is my kiddo.

~Whoosh!

On Wishes and Faith

I had a great time hanging out with Daniel. He's one of my verybestfriends that I met when I lived in El Paso. He lives out here now, a few 'burbs north of me. He's been married and divorced; the father of two lovely and bright children, one of whom is a daughter the same age as MLO. They get along famously singing their My Little Pony tunes, playing dress up and whatnot. They're the quintessential Two Peas In A Pod.

Daniel and I took our kids to play Lunar Minigolf at a local mall, then ventured to my favorite frozen yogurt place that's across the street from a park and fountain area. After finishing our yummy frozen yogurt, Daniel and I took the kids to the park area for them to run and play while he and I did some catching up.

Daniel's young son, a curious five year old, lost one of his flip-flops. The sun has set and the lighting is low along the benched areas. No telling where that flip-flop went. So, off goes Daniel, hunting a shoe with his little boy.

I'm sitting on the bench, alone, watching the goings-on, when the two eight-year-olds prance over to me with beaming smiles, palms filled with coins. 

"Look at the money we found!" they beam.

I ooooh and aaaahh and then make a bit of a sad face, as it occurred to me that these were coins tossed in the fountain with wishes attached to them. 

"I think those are people's wishes, baby," I tell MLO.

She realizes what I'm saying is probably true.

Her friend settles into that realization as well, but she's ever-thinking. Emotion was fleeting at that moment.  "Well. I'll put mine back if you put yours back."

I smile. I'm kind of proud of her for that!

MLO agrees and they talk about it all the way back to the fountain.

A short while later, they return with empty, damp hands, then go about playing other games.

Another short while later, MLO sits next to me on the bench and sneaks a nickel out of her pocket, "Don't tell her, mom. I saved this one for me."

I was a bit disappointed, but I also thought it was a little humorous. I did a silent chuckle inside my own head. "Secret's safe here," I assured her.

Finally Daniel and the boy return, both flip-flops accounted for, and I hand the nickel to the boy, "Go put this in the fountain. It's someone's wish."

MLO shoots me a pouty face and quickly gets over it.

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After saying our good-nights to Daniel and his kids, MLO and are reminiscing about her triple playdate day. The girl's dang popular these days, it seems. Anyway, one friend told her about the movie "Heaven Is For Real". Her friend said it was about a four-year-old boy who died, went to Heaven and was returned to life.  MLO boldly stated she believed that that movie was a lie. Her logic: there's no way a four year old kid who hasn't lived much life would be able to give much to God. A kid who has lived a lot of life, like her, would have given to poor boxes, helped kids and stuff like that. 

So I offered perspectives for her to consider: maybe God was using that boy as a messenger to teach someone something, in a way that only God and that person knows. 

Nope. Not how God works.

Maybe the parents made choices that included the kid, choices on how to serve God, and he did so by accompanying his parents.

Nope. Not how God works.

She kept calling it a lie. I told her I accepted her opinion, and she needed to accept that her friend has the opinion that what happened to the boy is true. It's okay to disagree, accept the difference respectfully.

We arrive home, each of us changing into our jammmies. I settle on the couch to write a blog about the wishing well stuff, but hadn't opened my laptop yet. She comes out, her face heavy in sadness. I see she's been crying.

I quickly drop everything and open my arms wide to her, "what's the matter, love?? Why are you crying?!".

"Mommy. I'm afraid. I'm afraid God will think less of me because I don't believe that story!"

*melt*

Oh, my sweet sensitive babygirl -- how could God possible love her less?

I showered her with love and loving reminders, sewing together her sweet but broken heart. She curled up like an infant in my embrace and I tucked her messy hair behind her ears so I could see her tear-filled eyes. I consoled her the best I could, hoping that she would hear the words and reassurances, absorb them and feel calm.  Eventually, she did.

"Mom, I'm going to go lay in my room and listen to my music on my iPod."

"Okay," I smiled, "I love you."

"I love you too."

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Place your faith somewhere, even in wishes.

So Crayons Can Become Lipstick. Or Can It?

My Little One and I went on a YouTube rabbit hole. We heard you could make lipstick out of crayons, so we set out to do just that. Below is a series of pictures of how we did it. It didn't turn out great, the colors weren't as pigmented as we had hoped. However, there was some color and for our first time doing something like this, we were quite pleased! Plus, we enjoyed spending time together!

Set-up

Coconut Oil

Vaseline

Stir crayon, coconut oil and vaseline together

Place in refrigerator for 15 minutes

Time to try it on!

I look GOTH

Holes

Rainbow of Lipsticks!

Would You Rather....?

MLO had her friend April spend the night last night. These two girls are the most creative pair I've ever met. When they get together, there's very little television to entertain them. They dress up and prance fashion shows, create scavenger hunts, play with their endless supply of Big-eye creatures (for whom they are making a home out of shoe boxes and other odds & ends), and ohhhh all the My Little Pony you can handle in 15 lifetimes! They do some computer things, but mostly it's very imaginative play, and it's freakin' adorable. They get along swimmingly, and it's tortuous when they have to separate from one another. As of I often tell April's mother, I hope our daughters are always friends like that to and with each other.

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As I was preparing breakfast for MLO and April this morning, they struck up a game of "Would You Rather?". You've played this game, right? It's a game of hypotheticals -- and a choice has to be made. Often the hypotheticals are the lesser of two evils.

Here are April & MLO's "Would You Rather" scenarios:

MLO:  WYR drink strawberry milk with poop in it or eat a dissected frog, eyes on the side?

April:  Frog. Definitely frog.

-----

April: WYR play vampire baseball & you're the only human & they want to suck your blood or play five whole seasons of kickball without say a word?

MLO:   Vampire cuz I talk a lot.

-----

MLO: WYR catch on fire or explode in a pit of lava?

April:  Catch on fire cuz I can jump in water or wear fire-retardant clothing.

-----

April:  *whispers* WYR be dunked in the Pit of Pain or kiss a man's buttocks?

Yes, I heard it.

Yes, I made her say it out loud.

Yes, I laughed right along with them.

This question remained unanswered. 

-----

MLO:  WYR ride a magical unicorn, it zaps you & turns you into werewolf or eat a cinnamon roll made with poop?

April: Unicorn. Definitely unicorn.

-----

MLO:  WYR become a non-flying Rainbow Dash or kick Fred in the face?

April: Don't mention his name, please. Seriously, don't.

-----

MLO:  WYR be a bat that lives on planet Mmmhmmm or become Superman?

April:  *eats fourth doughnut*

-----

MLO:  WYR poop out rainbows and flowers or ride on a unicorn that turns into Rainbow Dash?

April:  I'm prolly gonna choose A.

------

So that, my lovies, is an a-typical, typical Saturday morning spent with MLO + April.  

Now....YOU play!

Whoosh!

Elf on the Shelf - A Tongue-In-Cheek Post

A friend of mine posted this picture on her Facebook page this morning. I don't know from where it originated, otherwise I'd give due credit. It's brilliant!

I don't understand the fascination with Elf on the Shelf. I hadn't even heard of it until about five or six years ago, but apparently it's been around for eons. I guess I was such a good child that my mom and dad didn't need to coax me to behave, and I'm raising such good kids that I don't need to trick them to stay on Santa's Nice List. :P 

I almost think this is become more about the parents than the kids, meaning, the creative process of how to change the Elf every night -- where to put him or her. I've seen hanging from the chandelier Spidey-style Elf, reading books to Barbie & friends under the Christmas tree Elf, cooking Elf, and various others. You grown-ups are very creative!

And thanks to all of you Shelved Elves Enablers, My Little One is feeling left out. She keeps asking me how come we don't have an Elf on the Shelf. I keep telling her it's because I shouldn't have to trick her into being a good girl, or I'll use the scare tactic of "isn't it creepy to have a tiny elf trolling around our house while you sleep, getting into things and then freezing when you look at it the next day, acting as if nothing's abnormal about it being in our house and then becoming inanimate when you look at it?" *laughing* Having Santa come one night versus having Santa's elf roaming around our house for a whole month isn't so bad now, is it, you nay-sayers of "lying to your kids about Santa".

Now, those of you reading this who use Elfin Magic, I'm not judging you. This isn't an indictment of your parenting skills, nor is it an indictment of your child's behavior. I'm totally fine with you using it and if it works for y'all -- more power to ya! I'm so busy at this time of year especially, that keeping up with an elf is one less (or shall I say 25 less) thing(s) to do. So, again, it's all about me. #selfish

Merry Christmas, y'all!

Insight

Boa and I were headed to Mass yesterday. She's applying her makeup, blending liquid foundation, studying her movements and placement in the tiny visor mirror.  We stop at a red light or two and she applies her gray eyeliner across the top lid with delicate care. She turns to me, showing me those gorgeous caramel colored eyes she has and says, "I'm getting pretty good at this."

I chuckle.

"Yes, you are! The more you do it, the better you get, and the more you'll experiment."

She turns her attention back into the mirror, unscrewing the mascara lid and applicator from the Maybelline tube and begins to paint her exquisitely already-naturally-long lashes.

"Anna says makeup is made just to make you feel bad."

"Awww," I bitterly retort.

There was a pregnant pause.

"You know," I begin, "that's pretty insightful."

"Yeah," Boa calmly said, still lengthening the long lashes, "she's pretty deep like that."

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While I don't agree that the original design of makeup was to make a person feel bad; in fact, I think quite the opposite, I can certainly see how a woman would have that thought. I am impressed by Anna's maturity and depth. I appreciate the friendship Boa is developing with her.....just need to meet this girl now. :)

Often times, MLO will ask me why I even wear make up. Why do I have to wear it to work? It's a difficult question to answer. It's hard to say, "baby, just be natural. You're so beautiful the way you are!" and then have them plugged into a society where external beauty is valued.

Living in duality....such is life.

A Reminder To Be Patient

My mother posted this on my facebook timeline today. I needed to be reminded of her patience, so that I may be patient with her.

Love you, mom.

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LETTER FROM A MOTHER TO A DAUGHTER:

"My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”... Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep.

When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl?

When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way... remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day... the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.

If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you.

And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked.

When those days come, don’t feel sad... just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love.

I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you... my darling daughter."

- Unknown



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Hope this serves my own daughters someday when I am old and needing their patience. 

Love you, Daughters!