These are the Moms of My Life

I am a mom.  To be specific, I am a Boymom.  Mom of two boys.  And it is absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, trying to be a great mother so I can teach these two amazing kids how to be the best men they can be. 

Had anyone told me when I was 20 that I would relish this role, I would have called them a crack smoker.  But honestly?  I can't imagine doing anything different with my life. 

So while I take a few minutes to prepare for the onslaught of effort that will be made on my behalf to make Mother's Day a special day for me (from church programs sang by fidgety kids to funny, little handmade gifts and a burnt toast breakfast), I want to take a minute to smother the mothers I have in my life with oodles of love and appreciation.

Some of you know my life history.  Life's circumstances meant I lived in a few different homes growing up, so I have had the blessing of having more than one motherly figure in my life.  I want to take a minute to honor them all.

My "foster" mom is an amazing woman who opened her heart and her home to welcome my sister and me when we needed somewhere to go for a a few months because my mother's work took her out of town before our high school year ended.  D and her husband gave us a room and a family and a home life that we had not experienced before. 

I didn't appreciate how difficult it must have been for D to take on two more kids when she already had her own family.  I also didnt appreciate how much work she did to keep her family going.  D worked full-time outside of the home, then came home everyday to cook dinner and do laundry and assign chores and keep the house running.  

We didn't have a lot of heart to heart talks while I lived there because I was struggling with my own issues and didn't always see the wisdom of her ways.  Honestly, I wasn't sure she even liked me.  I didn't think she hated me, I just didn't think she cared one way or the other about me.  So it didn't seem like I'd be missing much when I decided to leave home and live on my own at 17 years of age.  I quit going to D's house and disappeared into the world to try to get away from my past. 

Imagine my surprise and amazement that D was one of the first people to welcome me home when I finally decided to quit running.  There was this wonderful woman, who had, unbeknownst to me, worked so hard those first few years that we lived there to be an example and model of what a mother should be.  She wasn't worried about being my best friend, she was more concerned with teaching me how to become a good woman, a loving wife and a successful mother.  And I was so busy rebelling and hurting that I missed it when I needed it the most. 

But D is a kind and forgiving mother who received me with open arms and unconditional love.  She has become one of my best friends.  I turn to her and her husband often for advice and they continue to include us in family events and offer us support as if we are still part of their clan.  Her faith in God and devotion to her own children and grandchildren continues to inspire me to work hard to create the kind of loving, eternal relationships that will always exist in her family.

My dad's sister K is an amazing woman.  My husband calls her "Mom to the World."  Her capacity to love is bottomless and she is one of the most non-judgemental, kind people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

We went to live with K when I was about 10 or 11 and we stayed with them for 4 years, while my Dad was supposedly getting his collective crap together.  Life at K's house was normal, which was a good thing for us.  We hadn't experienced normal up until then, so it was nice to relax and feel safe where we lived. 

K went out of her way to make sure we felt loved and appreciated and did it with very little help from her husband (who was an OTR truck driver who was hardly ever home) and very little monetary support from my dad.  It wasn't easy for her or for us on many levels.  She took care of 6 kids everyday.  She was up before us every morning with breakfast on the table and made sure we ate dinner as a family every night. 

Looking back I can see now that we were pretty poor.  There was very little money for anything other than basic necessities, but K always managed to find a way to make sure we had what we needed.  Best of all, she treated us like she treated her own kids.  She made us her own while we were under her care and we never felt like we didn't belong.  I love K.  K is a caretaker in every sense of the word.  She nutures and loves and gives with all of her heart to anyone who needs to feel the healing powers that love creates.  She truly is "Mom to the World."

Finally, I want to send a giant cyber hug to my biological mom.  My mom had a rough start in life herself.  She was forced to leave home at a very young age when her father had an emotional breakdown and became physically abusive.  She had no support from my grandmother, who I suppose was scared for her own life at that point and my mom ended up becoming a teenage mother at the age of 17.  She did her best to make things work with my dad, but in the end I think lack of maturity and support led to their divorce.  I was 5 yrs old at the time and didn't see my mom again until I was 10 or 11 years old. 

I used to wonder why she didn't try harder to get custody of us.  A few years ago I ran across some letters she wrote to my dad right after they split up.   She was asking to spend some time with us.  She had tried on more than one occasion to see us, but it seems my stepmother wouldn't allow it.  That was a big moment for me.  I started to realize that some of my resentment and frustration about her not being there for us was probably misplaced.  Suddenly she was not as much of an uncaring mother as I thought she was and I had to kind of adjust my thought process regarding her departure.

We spent a few summers with her when I turned 10 or 11 and then when I turned 15 she decided she wanted custody, so we left my Aunt's house and went to live with my mom.  I won't lie.  It was a tough transistion.  My mom hadn't been around kids or raised kids before and she wans't used to having to share her time or space with two teenage girls.  We had no real previous relationship with her and it wasn't easy to create one, for any of us.  

I try not to blame anyone for how things went down, my mom and I were victims of a lot of bad circumstances.  What I realize now is that for all of the hard times we had with each other, trying to figure out how to live together and bond, I know deep down my mother really cared about me.  She just didn't communicate that very well, or at least the way that I needed to hear it. 

The fact is, as I look back, I can see she was doing her best to show me she cared by trying to help me become a self-sufficient, competent, hard-working person.  I didn't always appreciate how hard it must have been for her to overcome her upbringing (or lack of) enough to try to share herself with two girls who really would rather not have moved in with her in the first place.  I wonder if she laid there at night sometimes thinking that she'd made a huge mistake.  It didn't help that she worked 7 days a week and didn't have a lot of time to help us acclimate to our new surroundings.  We didn't know to ask for what we needed and she didn't understand how badly we were struggling.

I ended up going my own way and trying to create the kind of life I wanted, but always at some point in my travels, I ended up back at home, close to my mom.  Because I really didn't know what else to do.  Something in my heart just wouldn't let me give up on trying to figure out how to love and be loved back by the woman who brought me into this world. 

There's so much more to this story, but the bottom line is this:  because I am a mother myself, I am finally able to see things from a different point of view when it comes to my mother.  She is no longer the person who left me, who wouldn't take the time to understand and help me when I was a scared teenager.  She is an sensitive and kind hearted person who could not take one more bit of pain in her life and so she became tough to survive.  She did the best with what she had and she took responsibility for her children when she was finally able to and raised us the best way she knew how.

She really IS the female John Wayne.  Tough as leather on the outside, heart of gold on the inside.  I'm glad her heart has finally been exposed.  It's a good heart. 

She has become a wonderful grandmother who is working hard to love and support her grandkids and she has a wicked sense of humor.  She taught me a lot about fighting injustice and taking a stand and speaking out when someone needs defending.  She taught me how to work hard, although I think she wonders if I have learned that lesson sometimes, as I can't seem to find my place in the world when it comes to providing for my family.  I won't go into that now, my mom deserves her moment in the sun. 

When push comes to shove, the bottom line really is this:  She has never given up on trying to be my mother.  She could have walked away so many times, starting with the day she found out she was pregnant.  She didn't though.  She chose to have me.  She gave me life.  And then she tried, time and time again to be a part of my life after we were separated.  And despite all of our struggles growing up together, she continues to try to understand me and all of my issues.  I know it's hard for her to watch me struggle.  I know she wonders why I can't get my crap together.  I wonder myself.  But that doesn't keep her from staying in touch.  

She tries to offer advice without being judgmental and she offers financial support when she knows it will help.  I think I'm her problem child and I know her life would be easier if she didn't have to worry about me.  But she's still hanging in there, trying her hardest to fill the role I need her to fill. 

I suck at telling her how much I love and appreciate her because it's just now becoming ok for us to talk about stuff like that and sometimes it still feels awkward.  But it shouldn't be awkward anymore. 

Which is why I want to publicly thank her and the other women in my life who continue to rally around me and my family.   Thanks for the love, the patience, the examples and the support.  I would not be the mother I am today had you ladies not been part of my life. 

Happy Mother's Day! 

   

Late Merry Christmas Post!

It seems like this entire year has found me constantly running behind, in almost every aspect of my life.  It has been a chaotic, unpredictable, rough and tumble year for Boymom and my family!  So it seems fitting that I should end the year like I started, frantically trying to pull together a Holiday blog post before the year ends and I miss the opportunity to thank my friends, family and my wonderful readers for sticking with me and coming back here from time to time to read my...stuff.

So...how was your Christmas?  Ours, although hectic, ended up being a pretty good Christmas.  This year we really tried to focus more on the spiritual aspects of the holiday and less on the gift giving (lack of money was how that idea started, we decided to run with it!).  The gifts we did give were a lot more practical than in years past and thanks to the generosity of friends, family and a Secret Santa, the boys got more than they (or we) expected.  By the end of Christmas Day, I was feeling pretty grateful and extremely blessed.

I think this year, more so than any in the recent past, I truly felt the Spirit of Christmas in my own heart.  Maybe because I quit focusing on what we didn't have and what wasn't working and started focusing on what I could give back.  It was a joy and a pleasure to watch my boys get excited about our own Secret Santa project, which didn't amount to a whole lot of money, but definitely showed my boys that there are people in the world who are so much worse off than we are.  Little Man almost broke into tears when he realized that there are people who literally have nothing other than the clothes on their backs.  Listening to him pray that night for the well-being of a stranger we met who was living under a tree in a park is a Christmas experience his dad and I will cherish the rest of our lives.

I'm glad we took the time to help my boys understand that it's not about the gifts.  It's about being a good human being during a season when we celebrate the birth of one of the greatest beings ever to walk the earth.

(Ignore the tighty whities and focus on the Nativity, please.  The nativity set, people!!!

Merry Christmas, my dear bloggy friends.  Thank you for your wonderful examples, your kind and caring words, your generosity of spirit and good will.  You have made a difference in this Boymom's life.

Mom Strength

This is a hard post for me to write tonight. And I'm writing for purely selfish reasons, which is the last reason I should be writing, given the subject of this post and the example that has been set for me today. Selfishness has no place in this drama I have watched play out over the last few days. And yet, here I am, with my high maintenance ways, selfishly working through my issues at the expense of my readers. Sorry...the grief is too much to bear alone.

Having said that, the grief and sadness I feel today is NOTHING compared to the loss and suffering my friends have had to endure the last few days as they deal with the tragic loss of their 2 year old son. What makes the loss even more unbearable is that the little boy's caretaker was the one who unknowingly took his life when she backed over him in the driveway. In an instant, 2 families who are the best of friends have been changed forever and a little bundle of energy and mischief is gone.

As I sat at the church waiting for the funeral to begin, I was immediately struck by the fact that the large chapel was full to capacity. That was not surprising. My friends are amazing people who are so easy to love. And the town where they live - where I used to live - is a kind and giving community, full of people who truly care about one another and who delight in serving and supporting their neighbors. I miss my old town.

The service was full of spiritual moments and incredible music that sounded as if it had been flown in on the wings of angels. The people who were there to support this dear family, including those of us in the congregation, offered our hearts and our voices, doing our utmost to usher in a feeling of love, reverence and faith though melody and lyrics that brought even the strongest man there to his knees.

As I struggled to maintain even a modicum of composure, thoughts raced through my head at a breakneck pace. How does a person even begin to deal with the loss of a child? How does the babysitter ever recover from the guilt she must be feeling? How is my friend still standing and talking? Why has she not fallen to the ground by now in a broken, sobbing heap?

I stopped to think about that last question for quite awhile. The question arose when I watched my friends get up to speak about their son. The father did such a great job of supporting his sweet wife. He was trying to be strong for her, for his other children. He spoke with great tenderness, then broke down for just a moment.  As he regained his composure, he had no more words, so he turned to his wife - my friend.  She stood there in front of a few hundred people with quivering lips and swollen eyes. That's when I wondered if she was going to collapse under the weight of the situation. I watched with tears streaming down my own face as she put her hand out on the podium to steady herself. Two or three times she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out, only choked back sobs. She hung her head for a few moments and her shoulders shook visibly as her body tried hard to fight back the grief. We all felt her pain and sat helplessly, offering our heartfelt love and support through silent prayer.

After a few moments, she stood up straight, wiped her tears, took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphone. She had a renewed strength about her. It was her Mom Strength kicking in. It's that strength that magically appears when we are beyond exhausted and longing for peace and sleep, but we keep going because a sick child needs us. It's the kind of strength that allows you to sit back and watch your child make mistakes, even when you know it will cause them great pain. It's the same strength that God gives you to keep having babies, even when the pain is so unbearable that you think it might kill you. Her Mom Strength was getting her through this. And with everything she had, she began to offer up her thoughts, her memories, her feelings, her testimony and her thanks to God for the precious gift of motherhood that she had been given. She recognized that it had been their privilege to bring that sweet little child into their home and thanked Heavenly Father for blessing them with the opportunity to share in their son's short life here on earth.

And then, this incredible friend of mine, this broken, hurting human being, did the most humbling thing I have ever witnessed. She looked to the babysitter, who by some miracle had managed to drag herself to what I can only imagine must have been the second most torutuous event of her life (the first being the horrible drive backward out of my friend's driveway), and thanked her for taking such good care of their son while my friend went to work each day. She offered her love and condolences to the caretaker, knowing that she too must be consumed with grief and overwrought with sadness. My friend did the most unselfish thing a person can do...she reached out and offered a hand of forgiveness to someone that others might have cast off as unlovable because of a life-ending mistake. There was no hate, no harsh words, no blame. Only solace. My dear, sweet, incredibly strong friend rose to the occasion and offered the ultimate sacrifice and example of Christ-like love. She laid her anger at the alter so that everyone could heal and move on.   

You would think I would leave there trying to live up to my friend's example of strength. And yet, here I sit, in my own selfishness tonight, sobbing like a baby. I lost nothing because of this tragedy. In fact, it opened my eyes and I gained a much better perpective of what matters and what doesn't. But I still sit here with giant tears pouring out of my face...horrified at the thought of having to go through something so traumatic with one of my own children; racked with guilt that I did not make a bigger effort to spend more time with my dear friends since moving from that little town; overwhelmed with homesickness and a desire to move back to the only place that ever felt like home; heartbroken for a friend who suffers so greatly and for whom I can do nothing to ease her pain; and finally, feeling incredibly moved by my friend's selfless actions.  All of which keep the tears flowing.  I guess this is how I process.  I write and I ramble and I cry. 

So thanks, dear readers and friends, for indulging my need to sob on your shoulders. I hope I cry enough tonight to wash the selfishness and grief away so I can be a source of support for my friend and her family. She gave me a great gift today when she offered up her example of courage, faith and selflessness. I would like to return her the favor.

This Post is For My Friend at Work

You ask me sometimes about marriage and kids.  About what it's like to be tied down.  You have not found your soulmate and you wonder if you ever will.  That's what you tell me.  I've watched you for a few short weeks as you choose your dates and search for "the one."  I don't always get your choices, but I get the need to feel wanted and needed.  I know that you are a real catch and one day you will make someone very happy. 

You tell me you aren't a kid person.  One day I watched you get really annoyed at some kid whose mom was letting him run amuck in a restaurant and you started to get loud about it.  I kind of told you to calm down, but realized that you had a point.  The kid was out of control and the mom was really lackadaisical about her kid ruining the atmosphere for the other diners.  So I see that maybe you really aren't comfortable around kids.  And I understand why you might think all kids are like that little dude.  But they aren't.  There are some good kids around.  Kids like the kind of kid I think you were when you were little.  I hope one day you get to experience the love of a really good kid.  It changes your heart.  It changes your life.  Ask your dad how it feels.    

You also mentioned that it seems like I am in prison sometimes because I have all these family obligations that keep me from really letting loose and being who I am.  You are right...I have felt like that sometimes.  I have felt like I was trapped and struggling to live a life that makes me happy.  But the truth is, my kind friend, if I have ever felt trapped or imprisoned by my life as a wife and a mom, it has nothing to do with my kids or my marriage.  It has everything to do with who I am and the choices I have made.  And more importantly, the reasoning and logic I used when I made those choices.  

Let me clarify.  Yes...when I was single, I could come and go when I pleased and I could spend my money the way I wanted to and I NEVER had to worry about having someone attached to my hip 24 hours a day (except for an occasional clingy friend).  My life was my own, my choices were my own and my mistakes were my own.  Rarely did I have to worry about others, unless I chose to do so.  Sometimes I do miss that freedom of not having to worry about anyone but myself. 

But I can honestly say that I never miss that feeling so much that I would give up the experience of being a mom and a wife to have that freedom again, no matter how much the choice to have a family costs me.  Maybe "cost" is the wrong word.  It's not so much a matter of how much the choice cost me, it's more a matter of how much of myself I chose to give up in trying to make a perfect family and live a perfect life.

We have these ideas of what relationships should look and feel like and so we go into life situations with expectations and pictures in our heads about what a perfect marriage and family unit should be.  And my choice was to set really high, pretty unrealistic expectations for what married life would be like for me. So when life happens and it's really hard?  Yeah...I have felt trapped.  Why?  Because I loved my husband so much when I married him, I never foresaw a time when we would not be as close as conjoined twins.  We would never tire of each other and we would have the best relationship EVAH because he was perfect and I was perfect and together we would be double perfect!  Whoo-hoo!  Even though I knew deep down we were far from perfect. I know...it was naive.  All I knew is that I didn't want to have the kind of relationships I had seen growing up, so I went into marriage hoping and praying for the best and thinking that if you love someone enough, the rest just kind of comes together.  I had no clue that I would have to have an advanced degree in human nature and psychology to navigate my new life with a man and kids!  I know.  I KNOW!!  Naive.  Too bad Dr. Phil wasn't around then to help me out. 

So being the optimist that I was at the time, I chose to set up my relationship with my husband on the highest freaking mountain peak I could find.  "Let's shoot for the stars, Honey!"  Then, I expected him to want to climb the mountain, and to be able to reach the peak with me where we would experience the pinnacle of "perfect married life."  Angels would sing and the clouds would part and the finger of God would reach out to bless our union with love and harmony and we'd buy everyone a Coke and there would be singing and laughter throughout the world!   

Except I never bothered to stop and ask him if he knows how to climb mountains.  I just assumed he knew how because he's smart and funny and he has goals and aspirations, so...cool!  Seemed like a good assumption.  Let's go, Dude!  Up the mountain!  Then one day it occurs to me he's not making much vertical progress and he's miserable and I'm getting angry because I'm tired of dragging him up the hill and when I finally take the time to ask what his problem is, he says he hates climbing mountains!   WHAT!?!  How did I not know he hates mountain climbing?!  In all our years of dating, how did this question not come up?  Not slightly dislikes it...HATES IT!  So now I'm married to a guy who is not a mountain climber.  He is something else.  Maybe he's a swimmer or a flyer or a runner.  Whatever he is, he's not a mountain climber.  So I end up being pissed that he sucks at climbing mountains.  Can I be mad at him for that?  Well, I can be, and sometimes I am mad at him for it, but should I be mad?  Probably not.  I made the choice to marry him and I made the assumption that he would and could climb mountains.  And I geared my whole life around making sure we got up the mountain together, at the same time, the same way.  I became his Sherpa.  I thought that's what I was supposed to do.  So I did it. I never gave myself the option of taking another path.   I also never considered that he might have his own life path to take.  I never thought about letting him fly to the top of the mountain while I climbed and then meeting him at the top, where we would both be happy with the separate paths that we took and then the clouds and the music and God's finger and the Coke....you get the idea.  But the key point here is this...I CHOSE to do all of this.  I chose to set it up this way, I chose to assume the role I did, I chose the path.  I chose. 

Then my kids came along.  And when they came, my heart turned to jello and everything in my entire body screamed out with joy and fear and the most fiery hot intense love that I have ever felt in my life.  And in my zeal to give them the kind of childhood I wanted, I threw my entire being into making sure they get a fair shot at being normal and functional as they grow and face life in an adult world.  I want them to have choices that I never had.  So I sacrifice. 

I sacrificed my business and my career.  I sacrificed my body.  I sacrificed my wardrobe, my health, my happiness.  I put everything on hold for my kids and my husband.  I thought it was the right thing to do and at first I was really, really happy with my choice to walk away from everything that took my focus and attention away from my boys' well-being.  Because remember...my mission is to give them something different than I had - a solid home life where they feel wanted and loved and safe, no matter what is going on in the world around them.  It all sounds so noble, right?  I should have been so happy making these sacrifices, knowing they would give my kids the kind of life I didn't have.  Everything I did was for my kids, and sometimes my husband. I never did anything for myself.

But I wasn't happy.  I was mad that no one appreciated my efforts.  And my being a martyr was not noble.  All I was doing was teaching my boys to feel guilty for having a good life that I was giving them!  How whacked is that?!  I was constantly angry that I was not finding any joy in my role as a wife and a mom and I was blaming everyone but me.    

 

Then one day the realization hit me:  I asked for this.  I told God what I wanted and he gave it to me.  I wanted a husband, I wanted children and I got what I wanted.  I asked to be a stay at home mom and I got what I wanted.  These were my choices.  I can tell you they were and still are the right choices.  I know that with every fiber of my being.  But somehow my choices left me feeling trapped and unhappy and wanting to escape my reality to just let loose and be who I really am inside. 

 

The truth is I chose to give up that "fun, crazy, impulsive, creative" part of myself.  No one asked me to give it up, I just assumed that part of my self would be counterproductive to raising a family.  And really, I don't want my boys to have to go through some of what I went through when I was crazy and impulsive, because frankly, it was kind of scary to figure out how to navigate some of those situations with no one to turn to for advice and counsel and help.  So in my mind that meant I have to be a different person now so my kids have a good role model.  Because I'm setting the example for them, right? 

So somewhere during my life journey, my values changed.  Actually, they didn't change, I just finally developed a core set of values by which I want to live my life.  Maybe I was afraid that letting loose would lead me back to being the person I was a long, long time ago.  That person struggled with being able to stay safe around toxic people and situations because I didn't always have guiding principles by which to make good decisions.  While I had some fun times, I had no self-worth or no sense of how to protect myself.  I don't ever want to go back to that place of feeling like I had no value or reason to exist other than to be abused or neglected by the people who claimed to care about me.  And I never want my kids to feel like that.  Like they cannot protect themselves or that they don't have the skillset to deal with life's trials. 

 

So I made choices.  I decided that I wanted something different. Obviously the choices I made were based on some flawed logic and ideas.  Nevertheless, they were MY choices.  Did my choices create some kind of prison?  Yeah...you were right about that.  They did.  But one man's prison is another man's safety.  Obviously I didn't feel safe being myself.  Assuming the title of wife and mom gave me something to hide behind, for awhile anyway.  Your questions about marriage and kids and happiness kind of brought things full circle for me.  Your calling me out made me realize that for the last 2 years, through this blog and my writing and getting involved in various other endeavors, including my new job, I have been coming out of hiding.  It's been quite a process.  Sometimes slow, sometimes painful, sometimes scary, but really very exciting and fun, all at the same time.  So what does this all mean? 

 

Does this new realization mean I walk away from my family so I can feel free?  That's one choice people make.  Is it my choice?  Absolutely not!  It means I change the way in which I live my life with them.  Because it is my life, right?  It means that I give them the best of who I really am, because they deserve that effort from me and because I truly want to give it to them, not because I feel obligated to give it to them.  It means I give MYSELF the best of who I really am, because I deserve that.   It means I let the crazy, fun, spontaneous, creative parts of me come out once in awhile because my family needs to be with "Fun Geri" too sometimes!  It means I quit using my husband and kids as an excuse for not living my own life.  It means, my friend, that I would not be the person I am today had I not gotten married and had kids.  So while the experience may have felt like a burden at times over the last ten years, the truth is I would have never known these things about myself had I not made the choices I have made.  Getting to this realization has kind of sucked.  It's been painful and scary.  But now that I'm here...I feel free to be a different, better version of me.  Like it's okay now.  Somehow I have permission that I wouldn't give myself before.  And I can thank a dear new friend for caring enough to ask some really tough questions and push me to finally address the issue at the level it needed to be addressed.

 

Thank You.  I owe you.  Big time.  And I love yer guts for taking the time to really get to know me. I hope someday I can return the favor. 

Gratitude Post Part 2

Yep...there's more.  Another lengthy gratitude post.  More stuff for which I am grateful.  Can you stand this? Too gushy? I know, but like I said - my heart has been full lately.

So who'm I gonna thank today? 

My husband has really struggled with my going back to work, for a few reasons. First, he would rather be the one bringing in the majority of the income. Well, I would rather that be the case too, but until it happens, we have to work with what's been made available and that's the job I have right now. Which means he gets to be at home with the kids alot. It has been an adjustment for everyone and it has not been an easy adjustment for any of us. But I think we are getting better at dealing with the change and I want to thank Big Man for stepping up where he can. The house doesn't always get cleaned, but the kids are spending some real quality time with their father. Big Man is a great dad and I am so thankful that he takes the time to teach his boys valuable life lessons, like how to be a good consumer and how to be a discerning person when it comes to the friends they choose to hang out with. He prays with them and loves them and plays with them and sometimes he even feeds them vegetables with their dinner. I love him for his efforts and his desire to get me back home with them as quickly as he can.  Now if I can just figure out how to get him to quit splattering bacon grease all over the kitchen we'll really be in business!

My sweet, sweet boys deserve all the love and thanks that I can shower upon them.  They have really stepped up and tried to handle our new set of circumstances like little men.  They have had to stay with other people and get up at 2 a.m. to come home and go back to bed when we couldn't find a sitter who could help us out.  They have had to get their own breakfast on weekends when I am trying really hard to get a little sleep.  They have had to take on more responsibilities at home and I know they get stressed about it sometimes, but they are trying hard to roll with the punches. 

Little Man really misses his mom and has gone out of his way to make sure he gives me lots of hugs and kisses when he finally does see me.  Oh...if he only knew that some days those hugs are the only reason I can get through the day.  Knowing that there is a kid at home who thinks I am the greatest thing since sliced bread makes me wonder what the hell is wrong with him sometimes!?  I mean, seriously!  Do you not see what a trainwreck your mom can be, kid?   All joking aside, his love gives me a reason to try harder.  His hugs are like warm caramel to my vanilla ice cream soul.  I simply melt when he puts his arms around my neck and snuggles into my lap and tells me how much he has missed me.  At that moment, I would walk barefoot across frozen tundras and burning desert sands to ensure he has everything he needs to be a happy human being.  Knowing he still needs me is the best kind of feeling.  EVAH.  I am so grateful for his sensitive, kind nature.

And Big Brother?  He is doing exactly what he thinks he was put here on this earth to do: he's taking care of his family.  He likes having a kingdom to preside over and while I am gone, he presides.  Boy, does he preside!  He ensures that Little Man does his chores and homework (funny how someone else's homework is important, but not your own?).  Big Brother makes sure that the cat is fed, that the boys get to Scouts and he ensures that everyone is safe and sound at night by locking doors and turning out lights. Big Man says Big Brother prays for my safe return home from work every night and asks for us to be blessed so I can get back home and work here instead of for someone else.  He's the caretaker when I'm away.  He's getting kind of big for hugs and kisses he says, but a quick peck on my cheek and a squeeze from him helps me know that he's okay and that he can handle the changes that are taking place in our lives.  And sometimes I can move fast enough to get my arms around him for just a minute and kiss his forehead, which is now only a few inches lower than mine.  He wants so badly to be a man and I want him to be a boy a while longer.  I need him to stay young for a few more years so I can keep him close.  He's such a good boy and I am so grateful that he feels a sense of responsibility for us.

Can you handle one more gratitude shout-out?  I'm seeing that glazed look again, so I'll make it quick, but ya'll know I write like I talk, right?  And ya'll know how much I talk...right?  Okay.  Then quit givin' me a hard time about my long posts and start readin' faster so you can get through this ramble sometime before the day ends!  

Can I just say that my new co-workers rock out loud?!?!  Well...SOME of my new co-workers.  'Cause truthfully?  If I never see a few of them again I would be a happy, happy woman.  There are hundreds of people in this building where I work.  I usually get along with peole fairly well, but in my department of approximately 80 folks, there are a few who seriously rub EVERYONE the wrong way.  Luckily, I don't have to deal with those folks I don't like much, because I mostly stay with my little team of 11 peeps in Box Creation, plus a few others who kind of got adopted into the group.  We're a weird little group.  We're kind of our own island.  We bonded way too quickly and we have some drama once in awhile, but in the end, most of us all really, truly care about each other.  It's kind of like a little dysfunctional family, but way less dysfunctional than one would think if they were looking in from the outside.  I think it's because we talk alot.  Our job function allows us to do that and still be productive.  In fact, the fact that we can visit while we work actually enhances our productivity.  It's pretty repetitive work.  So talking helps.  On many levels.  So issues just kind of end up working themselves out through the conversations we have.   We talk about everything while we work and we work freaking HARD! Sometimes we complain, but we get stuff done and we get it done right.  The other teams all want to be us, but they can't be us, because we have this cool factor that cannot be duplicated. I'm so not even joking about that.  Okay...kind of I am, but seriously?  We have had other people from other teams in the department tell us that they envy the fact that our team is so tight.  They think it's awesome.  We think it's awesome too.  It just kind of happened...so we embraced it. 

My team members are HI. LAR.I.OUS!  They make me laugh harder than I have laughed in years.   I have also cried on a few occasions while I was there.  Yeah.  I know.  EXTREMELY unprofessional.  And the tears completely hit me out of nowhere.  Raging hormones and stress, I guess.  My team?  Hugged me, grabbed me a Kleenex and proceeded to think of every stupid or funny thing they could say to help me get it under control.  When that didn't work, they took me outside and talked me through the meltdown, then said some more really stupid, funny things and we all moved on.  They took me at face value and let me cry and several of them even offered some really good and helpful advice.  Amazingly helpful coming from people who are so different than me.  They get how hard this transition has been for me.  They laugh about it alot. They enjoy watching the rollercoaster of emotions that I go through on a minute by minute basis there.  I'm up, I'm down, I'm up, I'm down...it's like that for most of the shift.  Although I have to say, in my defense, I think I am finally leveling out, but I'm glad I can provide some much needed comic relief with my mood swings and work place trauma.  

My new friends are all (okay, mostly all) hard workers and fair-minded people with wit and charm and intelligence and beauty.  They make working away from home tolerable.  They value me, not only as a co-worker but as a person.  They let me mother them (most are younger than me!) and they take care of me and we all talk about life after the Census.  If I could I bring them to my next place of business I would, 'cause I don't want to make new friends and go through getting to know a whole new group of people again in a few months when this job is over.  If I have to work outside of my home for a while, I want to work with THESE friends.  They have made my first venture back into the workforce a memorable and mostly fun experience. So I need to thank Eric, Jesse, Lizzette, Monica, Mercedes, Roxann, Patrick, Faith, Brittany, Mike, Melody, Pat, Stephen, Pebble, LT and Marilee for helping me see that I can survive out in the work world.  Your support and humor have made all the difference where this job is concerned and I am a better person for knowing each one of you.

And last - at least for now - I have to publicly thank my Heavenly Father for providing me and my family with what we need and for giving me the strength I need every day to face the challenges that are in front of me.  He has blessed me greatly.        

My Gratitude Post

So you've all listened to me whine and complain and vent and stress and whatever else it is that I do and have done over the last two years on this blog when it comes to my personal and wanted professional life.  I'm sure there are times when you all wonder if I am EVER going to make peace with my issues and finally lay them to rest!?!  You know what?  I wonder the same thing.  And I can tell you that I am closer than I have ever been to just letting go of all those things that have kept me from living the kind of life I want for me and for my family.  My boys and my husband (and myself, for that matter!) deserve the best I can give them and I have not given any of us the best of who I am.

The last months/year have brought comments and support from all kinds of people in my life and for the first time ever, I feel like I have finally been in a place to receive the help with humility and gratitude, rather than with embarrassment and guilt.  Being able to accept the help without feeling like a loser was a huge step for me.  Without those feelings of worthlessness and stupidity clouding my view, I see things from a very different perspective.  For the first time in a very long time I have hope that my life can be the life I want it to be, regardless of my past, regardless of who I married, regardless of my parenting skills, regardless of my level of education, regardless of the stress that comes with each new trial.  I can be the person I want to be, inspite of what my negative self says.

I know, this is like 2nd grade psychology.  I tell my kids stuff like this everyday.  I just never tell myself stuff like this.  But other people have been good about telling me stuff like this.  People like my friend with the very funny son who makes hilarious videos.  She's been quietly following my blog for some time now.  She never leaves comments so I had no idea she read my posts.  Until she sent me an email after I freaked out about that job I didn't get but really wanted.  She gave me some excellent advice, which I followed.  I still didn't get that particular job, but I feel a lot better about my ability to get that killer job, whenever I run across another one.  So I want to thank my new friend for taking the time to offer a kind word and some really good counsel.  She made a difference in my life.

I have to thank my family.  My mom and sister have gone out of their way to help me work through the financial situation with which we have struggled for the past 2 years.  I know they look at me sometimes and wonder what is wrong with me and why I make the choices I make.  I have wondered the same thing, on many, many occasions.  All I can say is that part of the reason I have had the financial struggle is because I have had to struggle with other demons that have kept me from being able to go forward sometimes.  But I think I finally have a handle on all of emotions and I am done being helpless and paralyzed by fear.  Thanks for not judging me. 

I also want to thank my regular readers:  Miss Hope, Miss Pike, Kristi, Sports Mama, Queen of Chaos,  Deana, Denise, Tam, Trisha, Alepuz, Koni, Bandana Mom, Party of Six, Suzanne, all the other Boy Moms out there and the many, many other readers who stop by regularly to stay in touch and either commiserate or laugh at my endless conundrums.  I love and appreciate each and every one of you.  Even the chick who posts in whatever Asian language you write in.  I don't know what you are saying, but thanks for the effort.

Bear with me, people, I know this is starting to sound like an Academy Award speech.  I just need to do this while I am still  full of gratitude today.  Tomorrow might find me exhausted and grumpy again, with no desire to say anything nice to anybody.

I also want to thank the companies who have worked with me to offer products for my review and giveaways for my readers.  I have gotten to know many of you on a more personal level and have enjoyed making new friends (Maria and Amy and BSM Media, Jeff, Jason).  You have all been extremely helpful when I have asked for advice or help or even sponsorships.  It means a lot to me that you are willing to give me the opportunity to use my writing skills to help promote your products.  I work hard to give honest reviews and to let the people in my circle of influence know about who you are and what you have to offer in the way of products that are family friendly, I hope that my efforts have helped you as much as you have helped me.  It has been so rewarding and fun to share what you make and sell with the people around me, in my neighborhood and around the blogosphere.  The fact that I am kind of the "gal-in-the-know" who gets the cool hook-ups has shot me up the cool ladder about 8 rungs.  So thanks for helpin' a sistah get some street creds, guys. 

This post is getting long now and I can feel eyes glazing over as some of you keep reading and reading and reading and thinking "Oh my Gosh! Does she ever stop talking?" Nope. I don't. So I will wrap this post up for today and continue my gratitude post as Part 2 tomorrow. Lots of love and hugs to all my blog friends and family! Ya'll rock out loud!

Boymom Has a "Girly" Day

It was like a mystical, magical girl kingdom where no boys were allowed. There was girl food (like Brie, which I got for free as a product tester!) and chocolate covered strawberries (which I also got for free by becoming a fan of Edible Arrangements on Facebook!)and there were crafty things like fun paper and paper punches and embellishments(all of this was also free, courtesy of houseparty.com and Martha Stewart Crafts). And there was glitter. EVERYWHERE! And we loved it. It was one of the best days I have had in a long, long time. And it was the first time in a long, long time that I got to feel like a girl again. I am still sparkly from the party. Twinkly on the outside from all the glitter that continues to adhere itself to anything and everything in the house. Shiny and happy on the inside cause I got to spend the day with some of my favorite women. Doing fru-fru stuff that I never do.

Why? Because I Am Boymom. Boymom's are busy super gluing broken laser guns and pulling rocks out of pants pockets. This boymom gave up on trying to do anything "girly" awhile ago. Girly just didn't seem to fit into the boymom equation. Plus, you know...I've never been really crafty anyway, so the whole boymom excuse works for me. Until this last Saturday. When my friends and family showed up and the glitter came out. The little girl in me leapt out of my heart and into my life again and she was alive and ready to play! Wanna see what we did?

Looks like fun, yes? IT WAS! I felt like Buddy the Elf! It was so fun and happy and Christmas - y I could barely contain my glee! I know...it sounds preposterous that something as trivial as a craft party could transform my attitude. I seriously think Martha Stewart put something magical in the glitter. I might have to rub it on my arms and face everyday now to maintain the positive attitude.

I guess I just had no idea how much I needed to let go of life's grind and let down for a few hours with some really cool chicks.

One of those cool chicks is one of my best blogger friends EVAH! She drove from the far end of China to get here , which was a HUGE sacrifice of her time and gas and she brought her wicked awesome son, who spent a few hours keeping my boy crew entertained. Sports Mama is an hilarious boymom who either keeps me in stitches or tears with her blog posts. It was so wonderful finally getting to meet her. We seem to have so much in common, she's definitely a kindred spirit. You can read her thoughts about our girl party here.

I've spent so long being in "Boy" mode that I had kind of forgotten how much girls need to be around other girls sometimes. My craft party was a great reminder to me that I need to let "Geri" come out once in awhile to play. Because although I like playing army man and watching Star Wars for the 109th time as much as the next gal? Sometimes I just need to be glittery and feel pretty and loved.

I want to thank my wonderful friends and neighbors and sister for showing up to help me reconnect and feel human again. Having you as my guests was the best start I could think of to what could be one of my most memorable holiday seasons ever.

I'm Movin' On

So...I ended a bad relationship about 10 days ago. We've known each other for a long time. It's been coming for awhile, I knew it had to be done, I was just hoping the friendship would kind of die out. You know, the business of life would just kind of take us our separate ways and I could avoid the "awkward moment" or the "it's not you, it's me" conversation. I finally had to make a decision and end it.

I think the trauma is just setting in. I found myself struggling to keep it together today. I kept thinking that maybe I need to re-assess the friendship. My friend could be pretty cool. I mean, apart from the complete lack of concern for how their behavior affected me, it wasn't all bad. Having said that, I did stay up a lot of nights because of them. My friend has this way of getting me amped up.  But is it their fault that I get wound up so easily?

And if I'm honest, my friend was NOT good for my diet, either.  Everytime I started to make progress with changing my eating habits, they would cajole me into cheating "just a little." And I always felt completely drained after they were gone. Ever had a friend that became a complete energy suck?!

I can't lay all the blame at my friend's feet.  I must have gotten something out of the friendship to have let it go on so long, right?

Okay, I've got to quit second-guessing myself! I already made this decision, I need to move on. Moooove on. Moving on now. That's better.

One of the problems I have with this whole thing is that my ex-friend and I hang out at a lot of the same places. I'm gonna have to figure out a way to avoid them. It could be tough, we have a lot of common aquaintances. It's for the best though and I guess a little bit of awkwardness now is better than a lot of hate later on. I've said my goodbyes, I have to move on.

Oh - in case you're wondering.

Sister Love

My sister and I are very close. We live about a half hour away from each other. We talk to each other on the phone almost every day, calling each other anywhere from 1 to 10 times. We discuss things. We chat. We vent. We share and we laugh.

One time she called about something and during the course of the conversation, she mentioned milk was on sale at a local grocery store. I was talking about it and my husband overheard. He was dumbfounded. "She called you to tell you milk is on sale?" My response? "Umm yeah...that's what we do. We call each other...like 6 times a day." He just shook his head and walked away. My sister overheard the whole thing and we both started laughing at the fact that men just don't get it.

It's Sistah Love!!