Some say Thank you faster than others....

Many of us, dare I say all of us, take our parents for granted. Once we have our own children we start to see how hard it might have been for our parents and that maybe, just maybe, we owe them 100 million thank you's. Better late than never.

Some of us feel this even before we have our own children. Personally, I was somewhere in between, my kids are as well. Unfortunately I didn't hear the parenting advice to stay silent until after my kids were grown. I wish I had heard this over and over again while they were still little so that by the time why were in middle school I was prepared not to speak when they finally started to talk.

Regardless, I am not sure I would have heard this piece of advice. I am a living breathing connect the dots. As soon as someone mentions they are looking for a job I am ticking through an old timey rolodex in my brain. Who did I talk to that said....I just saw an email that said.....where was I the other day when.....

And it doesn't stop at a job, or a place to live, or a babysitter. It goes for every subject. "How was school? What are you learning in physics class?" "Like you would understand Mom!" insert hysterical laughter here "So teach me?" I genuinely want to know, I am curious. I like to learn new things to add to the rolodex. All of the information becomes a dot at some point. Maybe it's number 5 maybe it's number 2,379.

This habit of curiosity and connect the dots has to be annoying as hell for my boys. When all you want to do is be heard and your mom is asking you 150 questions and telling you about someone she knew in college once, a podcast she heard, and a book she read 10 years ago but can't quite remember exactly. Annoying!

I do my best these days to be silent. Just listen. Hear them. And they do their best to say, Thanks Mom. I slip up from time to time and go all "I was just listening to a podcast about this...." and they go all "Mom I am not a child! I got this!" Overall there are more Thanks mom, for everything. I'll take it.

Hi, my name is Trisha. I'm in AA.

It is time I own up and start apologizing - I am a lifelong A-hole. I am finally admitting it in public so that I can sincerely apologize and let others hold me accountable to my A-holeness. No more excuses. I'm officially in AA - A-holes Anonomous.

Anxiety makes me an A-hole, so does: stress, hunger, thirst, frustration, tiredness, heat, traffic, long ques, whining children, soccer tournaments, swimsuit shopping, servers who address me as "we", anything to do with insurance, taxes, hospitals, people who don't use turn signals.....you get the idea.

In other words I have spent my life being an A-hole and decided I hate it. For years I didn't know I was being an A-hole, those years being 0-12. It wasn't called A-hole at 12 but other things like annoying, hellacious, difficult, high maintenance, demanding, terrible, exhausting, problem child. I felt the consequences to that deep in my soul and because of it I became an even bigger A-hole.

I am truly sorry. First and foremost to my parents, siblings and family who have had to suffer the longest. To all the friends who endured as long as possible before giving up and walking away. I hold no ill will or disrespect, each of you taught me something valuable. To my husband of 30 years, you give as good as you get but I am still sorry for my part in our Lucy and Ricky lifestyle.

I am most sorry to the 2 most amazing people on this planet - my sons. Knowing how much my A-holeness has hurt them let alone affected them breaks my heart into a million pieces. I can wish all day that I had known, or learned, or started sooner however it does no good. As a wiseass once said - You can wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first.

The first thing I learned in AA is grace. Before I could stop being an A-hole to everyone else, I had to stop being an A-hole to myself. That was the hardest thing I have ever done. It's not easy changing the raging voice in my head. But it no longer serves me. I am not a terrible sleepless baby anymore, I am no longer a hellacious child dancing in front of the TV for attention, I am not a tattletale, troublemaker, or tantrum thrower. (OK well still maybe a tantrum thrower...)

What I am is human. What I am is normal. What I am is: strong and sensitive, confused and compassionate, troubled and trying, overwhelmed and awed, grateful and gracious. What I am is trying my best everyday to be a little better than I was yesterday - to myself and the ones I love.

*DISCLAIMER

I in no way want to diminish or disrespect the original AA. It is not only a lifesaver but a lifeline for millions of people whom I admire for their strength and courage in the face of a devastating disease.

**ADDENDUM

I heard someone much smarter and more eloquent summed me up in a nutshell. I thought I would add it. ShoutOut to Max Trombly for posting on social media.

A defensive person is a liability..

You hurt my feelings when..."Well I can't help what you feel" "I'm sorry you feel that way" "Get a thicker skin". I don't like it when you talk to me that way..."Oh what like you? You started it? You do it to me all the time!". Can we talk? "Oh, here we go again" "What did I do now?" or insert Eye Roll. I just want to be heard..."I heard you! you said it like 1,000 times". When you say..."I didn't say that."

The reason a perpetually defensive person is a liability is because when in conflict they are not participating in the communication being asked of them. Defensiveness is an amour that hides the real issue and makes it about ME ME ME ME. It is the same with shame and these go hand in hand.

When they do that they are not We, we are not in resolution, we are not in I hear you or I want to understand you. Defensiveness, shame are a liability because when a person is in relationship with someone who is constantly defensive it is not a relationship. At some point the other person is not willing to sit around and tolerate the defensiveness, the shame spirals, the lack of remorse, or insincere apologies. It's exhausting, disappointing, and hurtful.

And more important - it's not even REAL! All of the drama that comes from the persons defensiveness and shame is just the internal stories from their childhood playing over and over again in their head. It is not real and it is not based in reality. It's based on their "felt" experience and until they can separate themselves from the wound/incident and see reality is different and they are different and they can create powerfully for themselves something different....

If you were a plant, what would you be?

Growing up I was sent to Catholic school. Not the uniform kind. Not the nuns in habits kind. It was just like a regular school only we had one day of mass every week, religion classes, and our nuns wore regular clothes.

One nun in particular Sister Caroline even played the guitar and sang each week at mass. She had a song in heavy rotation I remember fondly..."Friends are like flowers, beautiful flowers, Friends are like flowers in the garden of love. Are you a daisy are you a rose, are you a dandelion. You can be what you are I'll be what I am, and we can be friends in the garden of love."

Like a parable, the idea was to be a rose! Never a dandelion because they are weeds. 

Fast forward to this morning.

My husband and I are sitting on the front porch watching the sunrise and I am looking at the clover popping up through the 3 inches of mulch I put down. So, I asked my husband, "If you could be a plant what would you be?" He looked at me like I had three heads and then said, "A planned?" 

Not that he didn't hear me, it is just his accent. Which always makes me smile because it does make us sound a lot like Lucy and Ricky Ricardo. "Yes", I said, "a plant". 

"Well, I don't want to be grass because everyone will be spraying me with chemicals!"

"I think" I said, "I would like to be a dandelion or clover". 

"Then everyone will always be trying to kill you!?" He thought I had lost my mind.

And had I said this to Sister Caroline or Sister Victorien they would have said the something similar because they used the "weed" to demonstrate what is bad, annoying, or wrong behavior. But as I looked down at those weeds growing up through the mulch, I saw perseverance, strength, gumption, fortitude, and tenacity. I saw a living creature with an unstoppable drive to live, grow, and thrive no matter what the conditions.

That is why this morning I decided if I were a plant, I would want to be a dandelion. They have been around for thousands of years and across all continents. Ancient Greek cookbooks have recipes for dandelion tea. My grandmother talked about eating dandelion salad growing up. Dandelions are not a pest but a source of life, health, and sustenance. They can and WILL grow anywhere with any amount of soil, water, and light. They bloom a beautiful yellow puff ball flower that when at its end will keep giving by sending all of itself into the wind to spread its seeds.

Yes, I want to be a dandelion. I want to be able to thrive under the harshest formidable conditions and still bloom. In my last hours I want to spread the seeds of myself out into the world through my children, grandchildren, former students, friends, family, people I came in contact with. 

Happy Easter -Spring - Everything

It is Greek Easter, and Spring, and we are all home together for the first time in a long time.  I have chicken and pork marinating for tonight as well as all of my thoughts.

I woke up before the boys and wrote for an hour and started an art project. My oldest and his girlfriend rose first making breakfast and chatting about their plans for the day. I went upstairs and woke my youngest who was out until 3 a.m. but promised me he would not sleep ALL day. We talked about his evening and quickly veered off course into all the worlds problems that need solved.

My husband was already out mountain biking, the kids went in different directions, and I took off for a walk combined with an errand. It is such a beautiful day! The temperature is just perfect, the grass is vibrant, all the spring flowers are in full bloom, and my heart is full.

Our neighborhood is now full of children and as I left I saw three young boys playing football together. It was the cutest thing because they were all in a pile when I walked up. Then they helped each other unpile, shared the ball, and guided each other through the play to the touchdown all celebrating together.

My boys are no longer young but I still love hanging out with them more than anything else in the world. Starting my day chatting with my son and his girlfriend as they make breakfast, sitting on my other son's bed hearing all about the college bar scene makes me happy.

Growing up catholic Easter was a time to think about starting over, or rebirth. As I was walking and looking at all of the new life around me: green grass, tulips, dandelions, henbit, magnolias, red buds and my boys. Their new life, this new chapter. I can't wait for it! 

Boys to men.....

 It's Christmas break and both boys are home. It's hard not to think back to the days when we filled the time with playdates, baking, watching Christmas specials, sledding if there was any snow, and hot cocoa.

I sit alone in a full house now. No one coming out of their room unless they need food, laundry, or money. It's lonely. Aren't they lonely? I love spending time with my kids they are the coolest human beings on earth! (most of the time) What do grown son's do with mom??

If it were up to me, we would still do all the things - and MORE. Go out to eat, cook, go see a band, museum, art exhibit, show, go on a road trip, shopping trip, European trip, try glass blowing, axe throwing, ziplining, go hiking, canoeing, sledding, birdwatching.... you get the picture.

But my boys are not in that phase, yet they are still a chrysalis.  Wrapped up, hibernating, morphing, figuring out how to grow their wings let alone use them. I know I need to let them be, but I miss them, all of them.

The little boys that wanted to play a game every day when it was time for me to start cooking dinner. Or who could have played in the sand for 3 more hours with the diggers. The boys who looked forward to reading books together so much they would beg "one more, please, just one more". The teenagers I demanded eat dinner at the table all together and even though they fought me we were all still at the table 2 hours later talking, laughing, listening to stories, and hearing all about their lives. It was just easier to make time or maybe it was making rules when they were under my roof. Now they are guests in their old home.

It will always fill my heart when I get a call and hear, "Hey Mom". Whether they are texting, can you talk? Do you have a minute? or What's up? My whole body reacts. I know I immediately smile, my heart beats faster, I feel lighter and the answer is always YES!

Modern psychology says I too am in a chrysalis stage. This is my time to morph myself, find my bliss, my tribe, try new things, find my new self. I've been looking for myself for 53 years if I haven't found her now - forget it!

I hope my boys will always know how much they lift my soul, light my heart, and make my days better. And whenever they call, whatever they need, it is always- YES! ....and let's get ice cream

What was my mom like as a 4 year-old?

 As my mom lay in the hospital again, the Alzheimer's ravishing the last of her brain I sat staring at the monitors listening to beeps and wondering - What was my mom like as a toddler? As hard as she fought this disease, as stubborn as she was, and the sarcasm! What in the world was she like as a child?!

I lay my head back against the chair and closed my eyes picturing a toddler with the wit and wisdom of an old woman giving everyone the What For as I drifted off to sleep.

I was aware of being in a house but could not for the life of me figure out what house I was in.  It looked like it had not been updated in 80 years. There was knotty pine paneling on the walls, a large stone fireplace with a huge mantel, and a picture of a pastural scene. The couch was a low sleek design covered in black and white fabric with what looked like the Chevrolet symbol. Identical chairs flanked the couch and a long low coffee table sat in front of all of it.

As I scanned the room again looking for a real clue to where I was I heard the clicking of high heels. I noticed the floors here were tile butting against wood floors in the next room. Maybe seeing someone would give me an idea of where I was.

Then my grandmother appeared. Seeming to be in her 30's she was dressed impeccably not a hair out of place with an apron wrapped around her waist. I was in awe, in love, and heartsick. Seeing her again was amazing but knowing I couldn't hug her to sit down and tell her all that  was in my heart was hard.

Just then another woman walked into the room silently. Her shoes, it seemed, were made of much sturdier stuff. She was very plainly dressed in a shapeless gray dress, her hair pulled tightly back in a bun at the base of her neck and not a lick of make-up on.

"Mrs. Kerns, I believe that Barbie is up from her nap if she ever had one. I can hear her talking a mile a minute. Should I fetch her before I get the laundry?"

"No that's alright I will go look in on her and the baby."

Who called my mom Barbie? Grandma left the room and returned with a 4 year old Barbe on her hip. It was incredible to see this child, while I knew it was my mom, she didn't yet have the features that I have memorized as my mother.

"Barbara Cheryl if you don't take a nap you won't grow big and strong" my grandmother chastised as she put her on the rug with a small toy baby doll.

"I big and strong enough" my mom retorted and I had to laugh. This is exactly how I imagined my mother would be as a toddler. Sassy. Feisty. Full of it, whatever "it" is. Mom toddled right past the doll and straight toward the fireplace. She almost had the fire poker in her hand when my grandmother proclaimed "Barbara Cheryl you will be the death of me!"

With a look I haven't seen in many years but know very well my mother turned and glared her mother. Then she pulled the fire poker out anyway and used it to push some logs off the hearth onto the floor. Just then the large nondescript woman in gray came back in and saw the results and said calmly "Well Barbie I see you would like to help me build a fire?"

My mother looked at this woman with so much love and affection in that moment, she dropped the fire poker and quickly toddled over to her enthusiastically.

"Me do! Me Do!"

"Ok Barbie you can do it right after we take care of this laundry, come help me in the kitchen an maybe I can find you a snack."

"SNACK!" my mother squealed as she ran to the woman and clung to her legs.

"Oh, Mary Agnus if you keep feeding her between meals she is going to be as big as a house."

"I have some nice apples from the tree outside my back door. You know what they say, an apple a day." My grandmother heaved a heavy sigh and checked her watch. Then she quickly tore off the apron around her waist.

"I'm going to be late for Bridge at Gert's house. You have the telephone number if you need anything. I will pick the girls up from school since I will be in town. Do you need anything from the store?"

"No ma'am. I will get dinner in the oven right directly."

"Thank you Mary Agnus, your a Dear."

I listened to the clacking of my grandmothers heels knowing those would become a distant memory for her in the next 20 years as arthritis destroyed every joint in her body, but the perfect hair and every present Sally Hanson pink lipstick and nails would stay until the day she died. MaryEllen Kerns was the epitome of a Lady and my favorite person on earth.

The older woman bent wearily, scooped up my mom and began to bounce her.

"Trot trot to Boston. Trot trot to Linn. Look out Barbie you might fall  INNNN!" and she plopped her on top of the laundry basket.

"Would you like a ride Barbie?" she asked with mischief in her eyes and my mother squealed again with glee.

Off they went into the kitchen. This was once again a room right out of Better Homes and Gardens 1948 complete with an apple pie cooling in the window sill.

"Snack?!" my mother bellowed from her perch in the laundry basket.

"Now, you must'n tell anyone else", the woman whispered bending close to mom who leaned in and listened intently, "but there is always a little bit of pie crust left over and I can't waste it, that would be a sin. So I made you a bitty hand pie all your own. There is apples in it so I didn't fib."

"Me pie! Me pie!" mom sang as she waved her hands in the air.

Mary Agnus lifted her out of the laundry basket and placed her in a high chair. She put the little apple turnover in front of her and mom ate greedily.

"There is nothing wrong with eating Barbie you remember that and some of the best people I know are big as a house." I don't think my mom heard a word over the chewing as she devoured the secret snack. Knowing that my mother would live the next 70 years of her life battling an eating disorder, her weight, and her self-image I wish she could have truly heard this.

The woman knew her way around this kitchen pulling out an ironing board and iron while also getting a large cut of meat out of the refrigerator. When the iron was hot the woman proceeded to iron every single thing in that laundry basket including the underwear. I had only heard about this type of thing in my life time. 

"Will you help me with these chores Barbie?"

"Chores!" my mom squealed as if she was chosen for to win a prize.

The woman wiped down a very sticky Barbie and handing her a spray bottle moved the high chair closer to her ironing board. She would point and mom would spray water on the clothing she was ironing. Mom chattered away the entire time. Talking about baby and sissies which took me a minute and then I realized her older sisters would have been at school right now and Uncle Chris would have been a baby. In between talking she would start a random nursery rhyme or song and the woman keep up with all of it while pointing and ironing.

after they finished she deposited all the laundry back into the basket and turned to the large cut of meat on the counter.

"Me help to!" my mother squawked and the woman took her out of the high chair and set her on the counter. She trimmed some fat and then placed the meat in a large roasting pan that looked oddly familiar but far to clean to be the same one my mother used all my life. Then she took out some carrots and potatoes and gave my mom a dish rag. What is she going to do I thought?

"Barbie you have to clean those vegetables real good before we eat them. Make um' shine."

The she proceeded to peel some carrots, potatoes, and onion and put them all in the roaster with salt and pepper. All the while asking Barbie questions.

"What sound does that there Moo Cow make?"

"Mmmoooooooo!" my mom would recite.

"What sound does that there kitty cat make?"

"Meooooooowwwww."

After they finished in the kitchen, they made their way to the other side of the house where she put some of the clothes away and then held her finger to her mouth.

"Be very quiet Barbie we need to look in on the baby." My mother mimicked the gesture and loudly said, "Shhhhhhhhh." The woman smiled and patted her head.

They went into a small room with just a crib and a rocker. The minute they stepped inside my mom said in a stage whisper "Is Cwrisafer sleeping?" The woman nodded her head shhing Barbie once again. They walked out and she said still whispering "when the baby is sleeping we have to be real quiet."

"I quiet!" Barbie huffed with a glare and hands on her hips.

"Let's go out side and clean some string beans for dinner." The chatter never ceased all the way.

"What this? Why you do that? I do- I do. Me play outside. Let's go. Where is doggie? Doggie! Doggie! Where is Connie and Jackie? Why they no here? I wanna play outside." The woman was unphased an answered every third or fourth question and always referring to my mom as Barbie.

She took my mother outside and deposited her on the ground. For a moment I was startled and then I realized this was possibly a sand box. It was not big and there were no toys in it but my mother immediately started to push and pull at the dirt making noises, talking, calling out to the woman from time to time. She sat on an old wooden chair snipping the ends off of a large pot of green beans smiling and humming.

Then I heard a beeping sound so out of place and I looked all over trying to find it....Trisha? Trisha?

I blinked open my eyes realizing I was still at the hospital next to my mother's bedside. The nurse was asking if she could get me anything.

All I could do was shake my head and smile politely because I still felt a million miles away. I had wondered what my mom was like when she was 4 years old and I had been disappointed. 

What will they say about me.....

If you have never watched the movie Auntie Mame - You Must! "Because life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!"

I have an Auntie Mame or rather and Auntie Carole. Since the day I can remember sitting at her knee at family Christmas I have been enamored with her. Everything about her. Her beauty, her voice, her laugh, but particularly her way of making me feel like I was The Most Special person in the world. I wanted to be her. Our time was always limited but I soaked up as much as I could hoping it would rub off.

Growing up in the 80's I was a huge fan of Different strokes and Facts of Life. So, I dreamed of one day getting to live with Auntie Carole! Or at least get sent to Boarding School, preferably on the East Coast near her. I didn't know how else to be her if I didn't get more of her?

Life marches on. I am 50 years old now and still wondering Who am I? My Aunt and Uncle have celebrated 55 years of Marriage. As I watched the video their son made of the party and the speeches I was brought to tears. Auntie Carole is still the most amazing human being as was remarked upon over and over but it is so clear....she knows who she is. She knows how to move through this world with remarkable grace, kindness, elegance compassion, bravery, independence, charisma, and authenticity. There is No One Else like her.

As I watched their 55th Anniversary video I was thinking of Auntie Mame and her charge Patrick Dennis. Patrick had all of Auntie Mame and didn't soak it up right away. He went in the opposite direction first before he came around the bend to see the gifts in Auntie Mame. I'm beating myself up for not being more, not doing enough, for not eating at the banquet of life instead of starving to death! I am not giving myself any grace for coming around the bend.

Watching my mom disintegrate from Alzheimer's has been gut wrenching. Every day I do or say, or more like can't say because I can't think of the word, something that sets off alarm bells in my head. Instead of thinking "Life begins at 50!" I start to lament that is all downhill from here and once again I am at the banquet watching, wishing, waiting.

What will they say about me? When it is my turn will there be anyone there? Maybe if I start to picture that party it will motivate me to step up to the table, take a plate, and stop starving.

Raising your parents

 Watch for my first book titled "How To Raise Your Parents".

Taking care of my aging parents has been quite a trip. As my brother who was a Grateful Dead fan would say What a long strange trip it's been. It has definitely been stressful, but that is to be expected when you are also raising teenagers, working, and trying to get your marriage out of the toilet.

A lot of this experience has been enlightening. These years have not only given me a chance to see my parents in a new light but also to finally set up boundaries in our relationship. Our family was far from perfect. I was far from perfect! I have spent a lot of time and energy in healing the hurts, calming the chaos, and figuring out how to forgive. Forgiving myself took the most time.

I know for a fact I would not be this far without this time of vulnerability with my parents. Helping my dad navigate the decline and disintegration of my mom. Being there for both of them through surgeries and recovery. Holding my dad's hand when my older brother died from cancer while they were still estranged. It was during these times I witnessed my parents at their most vulnerable and caught what I think is a glimpse of who they were before me.

My dad has been in and out of the hospital in the last month and recently someone asked me, "How can you take care of a parent who never took care of you?" It's a valid question it's just not an easy answer. I am not sure that I can explain it, but I will try...here is what I know. 1. We do not get to pick our parents. So, I do not belabor the point. Like I tell students every time I pass out popsicles - you get what you get, and you don't throw a fit. 2. I want to live by the Platinum rule. Treat others the way you want to be treated, No matter how they are acting! 3. It is important for me to live my integrity, truth, and values. I believe taking care of your parents is fundamental. and I guess I know firsthand 4. Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. Plato.

It is an undeniable fact - I was an extremely difficult child. I didn't sleep over 2 hours in a 24 hour period until I was 3 years old. I screamed constantly. I was inconsolable. I was child #3. I was hyper and clingy and anxious. And I was (am) and asshole when I'm anxious. I have two older siblings and when I was four mom got pregnant which could not have been easy because little did she know she was having twins. Dad was self-employed and sold Real Estate to keep us all fed so he was always working and rarely home. At 52 years old with only 2 children I can give them both grace that they did the best they could! It sounds massively overwhelming considering all the other things we all know about married life. In-laws, siblings, birthdays, holidays, their own parents, sports, school functions, homework, broken arms, stitches, bills, etc, etc, etc....

They did the best they could. They gave me what they had to give. The atmosphere may not have been perfect but I had dance lessons, new clothes, vacations, over the top Christmases, boats, snowmobiles, cousins, and all 4 grandparents. Now, as an adult I have a choice to make be angry and resentful for I didn't get or go find it myself. My toolbox was pretty inadequate. I use the analogy that I had metric tools for a US system but there were some good tools in there. Loyalty, hard work, acts of service, contribute to your community, and love your family. Both Grandfathers were entrepreneurs. Both served their community, one as County Auditor-one as president of the Kawanis, and both as members of the church. My grandmothers were also forces to be reckoned were just as respected in the community and even more by their families.

As I said there's no easy answer. Like life and people, it's complicated. I am grateful for what they gave, sacrificed, and did. And I grateful for all of the opportunities and people along the way that showed me what was possible. Maybe now I can be there for them in the ways I wish could have been for me. 

Where are you TED??

 As my boys got older, busier, bigger it got harder and harder to find time to write ab out all their antics, angst, and anti-parentalness. Along with it came taking on helping my parents, more and more every year.

What a ride! I have wanted for quite a while now to sit down and think about those times and tell the stories they will want to hear in 20 years. Or more importantly the stories they partners and kids will want to hear. The hardest part about this time is that taking care of others - all others - leaves me with very few memories.

My boys made it through junior high and high school so there is that! 

My oldest made his mark in junior high by winning the American Legions Citizenship Award, the basketball team, and playing the Bari Saxaphone particularly in the jazz band. He solidified his love for running and debated soccer or Cross Country in high school but never questioned his place in the marching band. In high school he tried out for the Honor Band his freshman year and when he failed brilliantly vowed to work as hard as it took to get the honored seat. Which he did twice, however Covid messed up the first year. Covid, as well as building construction, made my oldest son's high school experience a minefield. He navigated all of the extra curriculars; soccer, track, marching/concert/jazz band, Hope Squad, AP classes, no friend group, and only one girlfriend that ended in disaster - with his own brand of overthinking, overworking, and OCD.

My youngest son struggled to follow in his brothers' footsteps finally finding his own footing. He would not choose cross country either but knew immediately band was not for him. He would gladly take a leadership role but seeing as he was the son who was determined to speak truth to power, he was rarely gifted those roles. He also wasn't gifted the coveted basketball spots in junior high school because as my neighbor liked to say - "you can't teach tall". Soccer didn't go much better in high school because the coach wanted a clone of his brother and was not sure what to do with the opposite. Also the whole speaking up thing wasn't on the list of characteristics the coach appreciated. He wasn't concerned with the honor roll, or AP classes, or service organizations. And no amount of screaming on my part made him concerned with getting a job either! This child created a whole new meaning of the word Strong Willed Child.

One thing I can say about both of my boys throughout junior high and high school. They were kind. They went out of their way to take care of and stand up for students whether it was special needs or special circumstances. They were respectful. Not just to authority to everyone. They were not afraid of standing alone. Neither of them really had any solid friends or friend groups during high school. They didn't drink or date and it was their choice not our rules. They hung out with us as we had dinners together and long conversations around the table. We watched movies some of them again, and again, and again! The summer of Battleship 15 times and AC/DC on repeat.

If you asked me during this time what I most wanted to do I would tell you honestly, Hang out with my kids. I still would! I am amazed, proud, in love with the men they are becoming. I always learn something new when we talk. They are truly 2 of my most favorite people on earth. I could not be more proud of who they are but that is not taking credit for it because I don't believe I have that much power. I am making a pledge to sit down more often and continue to chronicle, my original plan, their childhood, adolescence, and beyond in the best way that I can....writing.

Menopause.....God's sense of humor is warped!

I saw a video the other day with a list of just some of the wonderful things you can experience while going through menopause. Itchy ears, feeling like bugs are crawling on you, sudden sharp severe pains, brain fog, blurry vision, OCD and MORE! More?! Seriously?? Like women have not been through enough during our lifetime as we near the end we get to spend 20 years with Menopause.

It is great we are talking about it finally and older generations are no longer hiding this information from us just waiting for it to happen so they can cackle. But knowing it doesn't make it any easier. I went for a hike this morning thinking 70 degrees would be a reasonable temperature to not disintegrate. I was soaking wet with sweat in 10 minutes in, my ears were itching, I had shooting pain all over my body not to mention every joint in my body screaming at me "STOP IT you idiot!"

The sad part was after seeing that stupid video I didn't know if all of the symptoms were menopause or signs I was having a stroke and going to die alone in the woods trying to stay fit. Stupid exercise. I wasn't the first person on the trail this morning but I was swatting at invisible bugs. Except the one that was very real and very large. A kamikaze insect dive bombed my face and hit me so hard I lost my balance sliding off the side of the trail flailing to grab hold of something before I fell into the abyss. Until I realized I was not near the abyss, I was near the meadow so I was only going to fall on my tuchus.

Why won't my kids hike with me anymore??

God must have a very warped sense of humor. Was he up there with all those other male angels and giggling. "What else can we do?"

"I know- I know! What about making them barren, crazy, AND hot as hell? Then we can call them Hag's. Hot. Angry.Girl's."

You know there was at least one female angel up there rolling her eyes trying not to shoot lighting bolts at their nether regions. But she was sweet, demure, trying to get God to see reason. "You know God, maybe we should spread these things out a little more evenly?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe both sexes could carry the burden a little more evenly, you know? Like if women get barren maybe men should as well? If women have to endure childbirth maybe men should have something equally as painful."

"Do you have any idea how bad it's going to hurt when they get hit in the rocks? It will be awful! But that men get barren idea - that's funny. that's a funny one! Hey guys listen to this one....she thinks Men should get barren as well!" 

Hence the saying God Forbid. 

One for the books!

 My youngest son has three cooking classes. Senior year is ALL about the fun, for sure.

We were both in the kitchen the other night which is rare these days. So I told him he had to help with dinner. As we were getting out ingredients, chopping, etc I asked what he learned in all his cooking classes. He sighed heavily and said "I've learned that everything I've been doing so far in my life is all wrong." I laughed and my first thought was that Food Network show where two chefs tried to teach normal people how to cook. The show usually ended in someone using the wrong knife, the wrong cutting board, or not cooking chicken to 165 degrees.

He was chopping something and I said "I am surprised that you are still willing to get in the kitchen, this hasn't scared you off eating!" That's when my son sighed heavily and said, "Listen Bitch." I busted out laughing. I couldn't stop laughing. My son was sputtering - "I didn't mean that! I'm sorry-I'm sorry!" Had I not been right next to him and watched the wheels turning.. and had I not just had the picture of that white haired female chef berating someone for using a saute pan for browning I might have taken pause. But I can only imagine a high school teacher trying to wrangle 20 teenagers making Pho.

I laughed all night long and will probably never let him live this down. The other reason this was not a huge deal-is because I know my son loves me. He tells me everyday. Usually not with a "Listen Bitch!" but....still funny!

Resolutions...my arch nemesis

New Years Resolutions are my arch nemesis. I've said this for years. But every year, I feel the need to push the reset button. To set a goal - however unattainable!

NO MORE TV! I know, if this lasts 30 seconds I will eat my hat. But I know the only reason I ever watch TV is to numb, escape, procrastinate. And if I have to read meme "Procrastination is not lazy, it is depression." I will scream - OK Universe, I got it!

Sigh. I am 51 years old. My marriage is barely OK 50% of the time, I have no career and hate my job. The only thing I am proud of is my kids and I can't really take credit for them! They are moving out into the world which is awesome but leaves me wondering -WTF do I do now? I have maybe two friends, I have 4 siblings left and only 1 of them speaks to me. I am taking care of my parents. Mom doesn't know who I am and now she can't even talk on the phone anymore. Dad has told me he is depressed and can't do this anymore but there is no money to pay for any other situation. My husband's mother is failing fast and now needs a live-in caregiver. We've been to one wedding in 10 years and 100 funerals.

I wanted to go to the HS in Fame, I wanted to be a dance teacher and bang my stick. I wanted to write Children's books and regular books and be on Oprah's Book Club list. I wanted to figure out this stupid anxiety bullshit, fix it once an for all, and no one would ever have to go through what I did. I wanted my Grandmothers to live Forever because they were the ONLY people who ever loved me, EVER!

No one tells you about this part....menopause, empty nesting, aging parents. We don't talk about how you wake up one day and think $%*@! What happened? Did I take a left turn at Albuquerque??? How did this get so sideways? And yet - I'd do it again mostly, I wouldn't straighten it all out. Don't get me wrong, there are a few moments I would absolutely call Do Over. But I do not regret my life.

I just don't know how I got to 50 so F'ing fast...and that means I am headed to 80 even faster. What do I want to look back on then? I'm going to start by turning off the TV, because I'm not finding any answers there. No Friends, no Fame, I'm not Dancing with any Stars and I am certainly not Solid Gold. Guess I need to accept the Facts of Life - Charles in not in Charge, these Happy Days are not all yours and mine but it is time for a Hart to Hart. Maybe a second honeymoon cruise on the Love Boat to Fantasy Island -or Maybe Dallas? Maybe I should start Moonlighting? Taxi? Mel's Diner? I mean who's the Boss here?? It's time for a Different World but with all change there are Growing Pains, all I can do is remember what matters most - Family Matters. I just know my life is feeling like one long episode of the Gong Show maybe it's time for a Little House on the Prairie?

Christmas Wishes

My mom has Dementia. She no longer recognizes me or any of her kids for that matter. She doesn't work, cook, or drive and she can no longer do things that require following a process like showering or dressing. She can no longer write and reading is hit or miss. Conversation is difficult because it is to hard for her to keep track of and understand what people are talking about.

What's awful about watching my mom disintegrate from dementia is knowing who she was prior. How does this even happen? Someone who taught 3-4 grade, raised 5 children, obtained her Realtor and Broker's licences and then bought a Century 21 Franchise, volunteered in the community, planned, organized, and cooked for every family function with a minimum of 35 people! HOW?! why......

The worst part though - are the days when she knows. She knows something is wrong with her and it tears her apart. Last year on the drive down to Florida it hit her when we stopped for the night that she had 5 kids and didn't remember them. "What kind of a mother doesn't remember?" she cried over and over for hours. This year, she became somewhat lucid when we were talking with a service that provides Caregivers. She said "What is this? What am I doing wrong? Why are you trying to put me in a box? I know you are talking about me - and you don't need to. I'm fine!" Dad is currently her main caregiver and it is wearing on him. I can see him slipping, especially this trip to Florida. It is no longer an option to leave them all alone. They need help and I need the reassurance there is another set of eyes on them.

There are a lot of awful parts about this disease, but I think when she knows she doesn't know, that is the worst. Because she just keeps asking - "Why? Why is this happening to me?" and I really do not have an answer for that, no one does. It's the 10 Million Dollar question right?! How do we cure Alzheimer's?

As hard as some of the moments were this week, some were awesome. We spent two whole days in the car singing Christmas Carols! Every time we went out for a walk we sang "We're off to see the Wizard! The Wonderful Wizard of Oz." In stores or  crowds when she would get anxious about all the people she would say to me "I'm trying to walk like you!" and then I would march, or wiggle my bum, or wave my arms and say in my best Steve Martin voice "Walk this way". 

Because I don't know their neighborhood in Florida at all I used the GPS to get even a mile and a half down the road to the store. GPS has always made mom and I giggle uncontrollably and even more so now that she always talks back to it. Add to that the fact that driving around in Florida is a night mare and the GPS was constantly saying to us TURN RIGHT THEN TURN RIGHT AND STAY RIGHT Whenever mom would ask "where are we going?" I would just say - turning right. And we would both dissolve into a fit  of giggles. My dad is extremely hard of hearing and much of our amusement is talking to him, him not hearing us, us laughing that he can't hear us, then making fun of him, then suddenly him hearing everything we just said.

For all the hard stuff, and there is a LOT of hard stuff, I try to hold onto the good stuff. The fits of giggles. The moments of lucidity. The way she gets excited about the green grass and the "pinkies". (every flower she sees) The fact that when she gets turned around she will say "Whoopsie doodle I'm off my noodle!" As soon as I say "I love you" she will say, "I love you more." And no matter how long I stay she will tell me to ask my mom if I can stay longer. I always say "I will".

We are so lucky because Mom is healthy and for the most part mom is happy. She smiles, sings, and sweeps a lot. She loves dad, life, babies, bright colors, soft things. Being productive and active is still very important to her and her biggest source of frustration. It can also be our biggest source of frustration in trying to find things to engage and occupy her. Dad is doing the best he can for something so out of his wheelhouse. He knows how to go out and make money so that mom can go buy whatever she needs including help. He does not always know how to be that help. Just like it does not help to get frustrated with mom - it does not help to get frustrated with my dad. (It doesn't mean that I don't) My goal is provide the support they need for now.

As I sit in the airport waiting for my return flight home and reflecting on all of this there is a knot in my stomach. I hate having to leave because part of me feels like I am deserting them but it is time to get back to my family. And part of me is so incredibly grateful for this time with mom and dad, all the memories. I will cherish them. These are the priceless little gifts I will hold dear this Christmas. 

Make some Jello...

I may have told this story before, but when I was in college and stressing about writing lesson plans, and a paper, and other homework I was complaining to my mom. At the time I was at my mom's Alma Mater and also studying education. She told me to go to the kitchen and make some Jello. WHY?! I hate Jello? Mom said it's not about the Jello. It's about getting unstuck, doing something where you can see results and knowing you can accomplish something. Then sitting down to write one lesson plan doesn't seem so overwhelming. If you write one, you can write two, and before you know it you have written the unit lesson plans. Just go make the Jello.

My mom hasn't given me advice for a quite awhile. My mom has Alzheimer's. She no longer really knows who I am. Memories like this one make my heart hurt, a lot. Because there are still so many moments when I wish I could ask my mom how to navigate this new place or just hear I'm not crazy. Just menopausal.

I still talk to my mom almost every single day, but it's not the same. It used to be her listening to me go on and on about the kids, my husband, and soccer moms. Now, I listen to mom go on and on about...anything. Sometimes she strings her thoughts together and I can almost forget she doesn't know I'm her daughter. Other days I sit patiently listening to her struggle to speak, think of words, and talk in circles that make no sense.

Once in a while, she will say something that knocks the air our of my lungs and the tears out of my eyes. Sometimes she says something like, Go make some Jello. And those moments are like catching a glimpse of an old movie. For a moment she's there-right there with me-then she's gone again.

My boys don't remember Nanna with out Alzheimer's. They don't remember the Nanna who read to them, and played trains with them, gave them a bath, and tucked them in. There are pictures but no memories of the Nanna who ran a business and community fund drives and every family holiday. It breaks my heart that they will never get that experience when she is still right here. 

I remember asking my mom, why Jello? She said "I just liked it." I still hate Jello, but I always have some in the pantry. Because sometimes, I just have to just- Go make the Jello.

Not until I say so...

Both boys suddenly have friends, who are girls, that they spend time with, alone. My husband is ALL for it. But he made it very clear to the boys - they are not girlfriends until he gets to meet them. I love that my husband thinks he has this much control!!

The boys response - " ok dad, she's not my girlfriend". There's no argument at all. "Bring them to the house!" Again -"ok dad". They are not phased. Dad holds no threat to his boys that both now tower over him. I have to admit this is a great source of mirth for me.

Last weekend my oldest texted me at 4:30 pm. "Hey mom, Any dinner plans? Just wondered if you wanted me home at any certain time?" So I texted back "No plan yet. What are you thinking?" So he called me and I was out with a friend at the time. I said, "I haven't gone to the store yet - what are you thinking?" and that's when my son said, "Well I was thinking of bringing my friend home for dinner..." Absolutely!

My husband was SO excited. He went into cleaning mode. Most women can relate and what you are probably thinking of is a quick pick up and Lysol wipe down. Nope. This is when my husband does things like vaccuum the basement carpet, clean out the refrigerator, trim the bushes, or wash a car.  The other factor of my husband going into go mode - he yells at everyone else to help him.

So I got my son's call at 4:30. We planned to eat at 6:30 pm. I had not yet been to the store and my son's girlfriend has food allergies. OH - and remember I was out with a friend at the time. I left for the store at 5 pm with the charge to make dinner for 5 that was gluten free and tree nut free (essential!) and for my family diary free and meat free options.

Meanwhile my husband cleaned things, barked and snipped at my youngest son, a lot, took a shower and stood by the front door waiting for them to arrive. When they pulled up the whole neighborhood was alerted as my husband started yelling "THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE HERE!" You have to love his enthusiasm.

We had a great dinner, I didn't send anyone into anaphylactic shock, and they hung out and talked with us for a while. My husband smiled all night long. My son's girlfriend is 6'tall. They are both in engineering and the marching band. They are both quiet, thoughtful, serious, kind, and probably more family oriented then friend centered. 

And now she is officially a girlfriend - according to my husband! My son's not big on labels.

Three Little Birds

When they hand over your child life changes, in many ways. The first is - you want every little thing...to be alright.  When things are not alright it's hard. Your heart and soul are screaming FIX IT!! Literally. Because your heart and soul are now outside your body. They are walking, talking, and living in a cruel cruel world. It is your mission to protect them.

My oldest son relived my exact experience on my first flight. On the first flight he would be able to remember his ear became inflamed causing severe pain upon descending. And then we had another flight to go. It was awful and there was nothing I could do.

Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I started to sing. Every little thing, is gonna be alright. Baby don't worry, about a thing. Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright.

Here is the thing. I knew that it wasn't going to be alright. Not for quite a while. But there was my heart and soul holding it's head, crying, terrified, and in pain. So I keep singing Baby don't worry! 'bout a ting. cuz every little ting, gonna be alright, mon.

For me, maybe not everyone, the hardest part of parenting is reliving all my childhood trauma. If I have to relive it all, at least I can help it turn out WAY better this time. What did I need to hear when I was a kid having panic attack after panic attack? I just needed to know Every little thing was going to be alright. Even if it wasn't, yet.

After that trip, I looked up the song not knowing the title is Three little birds. The verse not just the chorus are beautiful. If there was ever an anthem for positivity and gratitude this is it. 

Rise up this mornin'
Smiled with the risin' sun
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true
Saying', (this is my message to you)

Singing' don't worry 'bout a thing
'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Singing' don't worry (don't worry) 'bout a thing
'Cause every little thing gonna be alright

Even when maybe every little things isn't gonna be alright right this minute, what I know from life is - It will be. Tomorrow morning the sun will rise, the birds will sing, and at least one little thing will be all right. Never stop singing mon.

Facing your fears....

It is an absolutely gorgeous late fall day. It is 60 degrees, the sun is out, there is a lot of wind but being outside in shorts in the Midwest on November 6th! I'll take it. Ne excuse for not working out and for not getting in 500 words. New goal. 500 words  a day until the end of the year.

Face your Fears! Does not mean jumping out of an airplane, I'm not crazy! But it does mean do the stuff that is hard. Writing even when I want to pull the covers back over my head. Texting someone to see if they want to take a walk, asking my husband for a date, sitting down in front of a blank canvas. First world fears right?!

If I am writing this for my boys, then this is what I want them to know about fears. They never go away, just morph maybe? Human's biggest fear of all? Being alone. Truly alone, not 21st Century alone where you have TV, radio, 10 streaming services, iPad, and iPhone. That is anything but alone. The kind of alone where the only other person you can hear is in your head - YOU.

The people who say I can not mediate or I hate meditation. What they hate is hearing all the chatter of their mind. Their actual inner voice. Their deepest darkest wants, needs, desires, thoughts, and fears. That shit is scary. It is hard work to learn how to sit with yourself and not judge, just listen. Get curious. You can't not do it boys. Because here is what I learned way late in life. In order to fully give and receive love you have to be able to give and receive love - to yourself. Forgive the stupid shit you did, said, watched. Talk to yourself like you would talk to your best friend. Beating yourself up isn't discipline its dumbassery. How long would your friends stick around if you talked to them they way your talked to yourself???

All of us as humans could make a list of 100 things we fear. Not one of us would put "Myself" on that list. But that is ultimately what we are most afraid of - being alone, in our head, with our life movie on repeat. Reliving it over and over again...regrets, mistakes, F#@% ups. There is more though. If you learn to sit still, be still, get quiet, get curious, not judge, forgive, and talk to yourself like you would talk to your best friend. Then you can see the good stuff, the joyful stuff, the silly stuff. Then you can see yourself for who you are to the world.

This is why your parents, teachers, friends will say to you...I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.

This used to be easier.....

I haven't found time to sit down and write about my sons misadventures, milestones, and memories for quite a while. I would like to blame work, life, or my husband. But the reality is, it was easier not to. Sitting down and writing is hard and I stopped doing the hard stuff.

I told myself I WAS doing the hard stuff. Raising kids, working part-time, surviving a pandemic, taking care of aging parents. But that was not the reality. It was just to hard. My sons's did not stop growing and making memories....I just stopped writing them down.

I don't think I have written about my oldest son since he was in Junior High. He is most like me. He struggled with Junior High and High School, his first girlfriend, and perfectionism. Covid was horrible for him. All the hard work he had been putting into music was paying off RIGHT when the world shut down. The rug was pulled so far out from underneath him I am not sure if it will ever go back.

He is currently at University studying and playing music and still a perfectionist. He may have a girlfriend but he is certainly not telling us, so my husband told him it is not official until we meet her. Such a Greek father! Honey, he may not speak up until the wedding -?!

My youngest son has chosen a University. One and done. We went, we looked, we're done. Now, the after Senior year world tour is a different story. He has said for three years he is going to go to spend time with family overseas after high school. Now he just has to plan it. Part of his plan is to see if he can workout or tryout with Football clubs there. Good on'ya Mate! As long as he is driving this bus. I can't do it for him, but I will cheer the loudest. Guaranted.

I'm frustrated with myself for not writing more down. The boys deserve better. I deserve better. As I watch my mother disintegrate from Dementia I am paralyzed. What if that is me??! Just like that New Year's Eve question- What if I wake up tomorrow and forget who I am? Who will tell me.....what would my boys remember?

Will they remember all the trips to the zoo, the library, the parks? Will they remember all the hours I volunteered in their classroom and on school trips? Will they remember all the homemade birthday cakes, Halloween costumes, celebratory meals? Will they remember the hours we spent in the car - driving everywhere! To soccer practice, soccer games, soccer tournaments, soccer parties! and to be fair also cross country, basketball, flag football, and even dance classes for a bit. Will they remember awards, concerts, ceremonies?

If holding onto memories requires reliving them over and over again. Who will they relive those memories with besides each other? We don't have family, they don't have friend groups. And of course my biggest worry, they are too much like me. The only memories they will have are of the anxiety, disappointment, and trauma.

There are two reasons I am angry at myself because ultimately I let myself down. I let Anxiety and depression win. I stopped writing and stopped reliving the moments to cement them in memories. That's all on me.

My poor kids!!!

 I am no better at keeping this up to date and giving my kids a written account of their childhood as I am taking pictures and giving them a photo account of their childhood - I suck!!!

My youngest is 16, lordie day,  soon to be 17. (where did the time go!) He is still set on getting into college as a D1 athlete and going into life a Professional Soccer player. Sigh.......but maybe I should go back a bit.

My youngest came out screaming and hasn't stopped. He knows what he wants and he can be relentless to get it whether it was a cookie right before dinner or a ForteNite game (thank god that phase is over), having a friend over or not taking AP classes. Tenacious! Except for studying, practicing, or working hard. Thus the reason we find ourselves where we are today. He only made Varsity soccer as a Junior and we have little to no playing time to prove it. Barely any AP classes and no extracurriculars to speak of. D1 college resume material - Zero, Zip, Zilch.

However we did make it to Cyprus last summer to see my husbands mom and family and if I had to choose someone to get delayed in a foreign country - it would be him! Because I know he would be totally OK, more than OK. Quite possibly he would end up Prime Minister before it was all over. He has charisma for days, can talk himself out of/or into anything, he is genuinely kind hearted, loving, and passionate. He is so passionate about fairness or maybe good versus evil. Turned in the right direction he and Pinky COULD TAKE OVER THE WORLD!

When this child started High School I thought for sure it would be about 5 minutes before he had a girlfriend or three. But seeing as he started HS in the midst of the Covid Pandemic he took social distance very seriously. No socializing seriously. It is hard for me to get to upset over it because the social scene has not changed since I went to HS and it is still all about drinking, getting high, and having sex. It does make me sad. It hurts my heart that neither of my kids have friends or a social life because they wanted something - different.

I am sure I am not the first parent less than satisfied with my performance. There is a list a mile long of what I wish I shoulda, woulda, coulda done better. But when my son wants to hang out with me, hugs me out of the blue, goes with me to help at the store, or talks to his Nanna or cousin Liam on the phone. I stop for one minute, take a deep breathe, say a prayer to my angels and wonder to myself - Did I get the big stuff right? 

When the boys were little I would say to them, "It's my job to keep you safe and make you a gentleman." I feel as a parent the most important job I have is teach them - show them the importance of Love. Life is all about love and that is WAY more complicated than it seems. On this journey these boys have taught me just as much about love as anyone or anything, my youngest has taught me the most.

I know I don't say it enough to him. I am so incredibly proud of the gentleman he is and the Gentleman to come. Whether the Premier League calls or not Damnit!!

Yes - That's why I became a mom. Because I love cleaning toilets, said No One, EVER!

Why did I want to be a mom? Evidently because I love to clean toilets. I am now what is referred to as the sandwich generation, raising my teenage boys and taking care of aging parents. I am blessed to have a part-time job where I am off on Friday and I usually take that day to travel two hours to check in on and take care of my parents.

When this started I would get up an hour earlier and clean my own house, get my kids off to school, then take off for my parents where I would -you guessed it - clean their house. Over the summer it finally dawned on me, I am a very slow learner, instead of me maybe my family could clean our house. Or so I could hope.

Someone who's children were older than mine said to me when I had two small boys, "How do you raise boys to be good husbands? To understand it's a partnership, they should help clean, they should change diapers, they should think about the needs of others? I don't want my future daughter-in-law to say 'God you raised a monster!'" I didn't know either, but it was a very good question.

My father was an only child who was extremely good at getting others to do things for him and had a wife that did everything. I married an only child who moved 5,000 miles away from home very young so he was a little better, but still really good at getting others to do things for him. I was raising two boys who were watching me take care of everything - this might not end well. That's when I decided Saturday morning cleaning time would include them. I put a tube sock on their hand and sprayed it with furniture polish and sent them around to wipe anything made of wood. I gave them the vacuum and taught them to make lines. I had them bag up recycling, collect trash, sort laundry, make a bed, etc. Now I can not be sure anymore but I feel like I have taught ALL the men in this house how to clean a toilet. Even showing them how to get your face right next to the toilet bowl to scrub the pee off the sides of the toilet, their pee by the way. Yet I am still the only one that ever cleans a toilet.

Cleaning my parents house went faster if I just got to work and plowed through it myself but that really wasn't the point of going to spend time with mom and bringing purpose to her day. So like our Saturday morning cleaning I would give mom a job. Dusting, trash, laundry collection, or vacuuming. She loved vacuuming. Who doesn't love vacuuming? If you have to do a chore, at least you see and hear (sucking up a Lego or coin) immediate results. And it is not putting your face damn near in the toilet bowl to clean up OTHER people's waste. "I love cleaning toilets!" Said No One Ever!!

My husband and I recently got in a loud, heated, cussing discussion about chores in our house. He said for the 10,000th time in our 25+year marriage. "I help! I do dishes, laundry, vacuum." Yes. You do all the things you want or need to do - not all the things that need to be done. No one but me cleans a toilet. God love him, he really is a slower learner, he said "I clean toilets." I said when? There was a huge, very pregnant pause...because the one and only time he cleaned the toilets was when he told me they were gross and I was 8 months pregnant. I didn't kill him, but had one of our loud, heated, cussing discussions where I said "You do it!"

My best friend of 25+ years and I have discussed how growing up Midwestern Catholic girls left us with a few ridiculous ideas. One being that life was not about joy or happiness but serving others. Shut up. Clean it up. Offer it up. We were not exactly told to be a mom, have babies, serve your husband -but that was the reality of our lives. It was the 70's and we were told we could be "Anything you want to be" but not really shown. And it makes me wonder- is how I am perceived by my kids? That I am a mom because I love to clean toilets.

I can not put into words all the reason why I wanted to be a mom. But I just spent two days with my mom who has basically Alzheimer's disease. She doesn't always know who I am or what I am doing there. I know this. It's gut wrenching. But what I do want her to know when I am there is that she is loved, she is safe, and she is OK exactly the way she is. When I was leaving yesterday she asked how long of a drive I had and quickly pressed several granola bars into my hand. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her very very much.

She said "Tell your mom thank you, she did a good job." I said "I know she did" She said "I bet she is a good woman." I said "She is the best, I love her more than words can say."

Why did I become a Mom? Because of her. She showed me this kind of love. The kind where you clean the pee around the toilet even if it is not yours, because it is the right thing to do. Because it is taking care of the people you love, keeping them safe, showing them how to love even the hard stuff that is not as immediate and gratifying as vacuuming. And because of love, I continue to do it. Hopefully, one day if I am there, my boys will come to clean my toilets.