tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18003644910374761982024-02-02T07:56:55.503-05:00 My 3 MusesCenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.comBlogger276125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-71170794119535194102020-04-11T18:36:00.001-04:002020-04-11T18:36:24.077-04:00Mr. Man Bun <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGHMJsIoH9Qt0e2MJ3DWXfBUtESUl2nMCQMWH7lfzzMibTP78evj6X4AjvCCqZibIWy7yZbjn8i2jo6kd0uWIxG0ay0gPDJ-PdsrfJK38JEGdxFBPpAJB_UFwcvTlm3IQIFF12ALWAfSL/s1600/1-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGHMJsIoH9Qt0e2MJ3DWXfBUtESUl2nMCQMWH7lfzzMibTP78evj6X4AjvCCqZibIWy7yZbjn8i2jo6kd0uWIxG0ay0gPDJ-PdsrfJK38JEGdxFBPpAJB_UFwcvTlm3IQIFF12ALWAfSL/s200/1-2.jpeg" width="100" /></a>After 4 weeks of Stay Home to Stay Safe, there are many thoughts going through my mind. Every once in a while I have very profound thoughts about this time of social distancing being a reset for the world and a recharge for my burned out mind and soul. But, most of the time it is business as usual in my New Normal of teaching online from home while my 3 Goofballs kids try to navigate their own way trough this new style of education. It is an endless cycle of cooking, washing dishes, laundry piles, figuring out how to turn on my computer, fumbling my way through posting assignments and binge watching as many shows as time will allow.<br />
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Some moments of distraction have come in the form of UPS deliveries. Almost every afternoon the UPS truck is in our neighborhood. Who gets all of these deliveries I can't help but wonder? What is in those packages? <br />
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Thanks to a couple of very thoughtful friends we recently had some UPS deliveries of our own and wow! Bella and I were very surprised by not only the gifts, but the UPS driver. He is SO cute!!<br />
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Bella and I have many differences. She is much quieter, calmer and more organized. She enjoys cooking and baking and cleaning. All of the things I cannot stand to have to do.<br />
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But, one thing we can agree on, despite out 30 year age difference, is that it takes a certain type of man to look hot with a man bun. And our UPS driver wears it well. <br />
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He has been a highlight of the quarantine. He arrives on our street like clockwork and diverts our attention for a few minutes just by walking down the road. We never get tired of saying to ourselves, "Well helloooo Mr. Man Bun." I also love changing up lyrics to old songs and singing it loud and off key, "Mr. Man Bun dream me a dream make him the cutest that I've ever seen!"<br />
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My sons cannot stand it. They think we are awful. But, Bella, the dog and I wait at the window with no shame!<br />
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Sometimes when I am stressed out from hearing an overwhelming COVID news report or reading an article that is too intense with too many death tolls, I find my mind wandering. Sometimes, it's too much to think about. So I let my mind drift. Sometimes I think about the goggle marks on Trump's face and I wonder...how does he get that orange color? Does he have his own tanning bed? Where does he keep it? <br />
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To reign myself back in to more pleasant thoughts, I think of Mr. Man Bun. Sometimes I wonder, why does it have to be called a Man Bun? Why can't it just be a man with a bun?<br />
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Ahhh, then I get back to reality and teaching and cleaning and dishes and taking pictures of my dog, and using ridiculous snap chat filters.<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-34897845361726502172020-04-09T20:53:00.000-04:002020-04-09T20:53:33.158-04:00THAT Moment<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep8qMR44NkcVELb0zrrEmmhE8zrDz0YIAPKYLMVYNUKrG6jFTKjUFSmOUsO2D7abFYgA-2VAwwjPflDTbhRkA-s39kzVyQBK3D26PZD0sSIXQdFSWMHkGnMl_i-fUsuDvH7CYdS3xz-BC/s1600/1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="828" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep8qMR44NkcVELb0zrrEmmhE8zrDz0YIAPKYLMVYNUKrG6jFTKjUFSmOUsO2D7abFYgA-2VAwwjPflDTbhRkA-s39kzVyQBK3D26PZD0sSIXQdFSWMHkGnMl_i-fUsuDvH7CYdS3xz-BC/s200/1.jpeg" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is a moment every year that a teacher waits for. THAT moment when a class just gets it. Everything comes together and the teacher thinks to themselves, THIS is why I teach. Well, I was very fortunate that THAT moment arrived just before Coronavirus precautions shut school down. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-1164d16a-7fff-b79c-e6cd-c9b3e389cbb0" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two weeks before that last day together, I had started reading a book to the class. It was the book, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamilio. My most favorite children’s chapter book ever. </span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was worried because it was reading assessment time. They were taking DRA tests and i-ready tests. Was I teaching enough? Were they learning enough? What else should I be doing to teach them better? I was stressed.</span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love reading and I love books and I love characters and so I took out my book and decided to introduce them to Edward. </span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From the very first page they were hooked. I saw them leaning in closer even though there were no pictures to look at. They wanted to get closer to the story. </span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They were alert, hanging on every word. Picturing the story in their minds. We took notes and wrote predictions and each day I left off at a cliffhanger moment. They HAD to wait until the next day to find out what happens next. I made a BIG deal about having to read it together - no sneak peeking ahead. I put the book in my purse for recess so no one would be tempted to look at the ending. </span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The suspense built. </span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> On March 9th I felt like school would close soon, so I knew we HAD to get through the end of Edward. The kids wanted more and more of the story.</span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thursday It felt like closing would be inevitable and we still had 4 chapters left. 16 pages! </span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We decided as a class to finish it. We sat together for 45 minutes! We read and read. And as I approached the very last paragraph I looked around at the smiling, eager faces of my students. I knew what was coming. I had read the end 4 years in a row. I can not ever read that last page without tears. As we got to the end, I read and wept and the students cheered and clapped!! We were SO loud that Ms. Tangredi came running across the hall to see if we were ok. She was worried when she saw my tears and mascara running all over my face. But students assured her we were fine! We were just happy for Edward! </span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And I knew. It was THAT moment. My students go IT!! They were so invested in that book, in that character. Edward had become a part of us. Part of the 2nd grade experience. No test score can measure it. No reading level could accurately portray it. It’s something you can’t teach, you can’t quantify, you can’t force. It has to be awakened inside of oneself. </span></div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I do not know what the future holds, if we will go back to school this year. If we will be in a classroom together again. But, I do know my school kids are going to be ok. They get it! They are critical thinkers and lifelong learners.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They are amazing! I am so proud of them! I will cherish THAT moment as I plan online lesson for them and picture them reading as we continue with our New Normal. </span></div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-56160269606078255462020-01-01T17:37:00.001-05:002021-07-07T17:31:07.229-04:00Cup of Perspective<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkFd19Cs1M7KmfPrXTvPoYdejsfTrPhPNfxz5wuuybWtu8G7Bmyf-6VgYjX_H6iOMAFhrdEsFxCsyTM5vUZ1g0z2zBAOlcBvijpbrK4oYED_GDTTdTBjoQTOS7zw9RxnBk3M9JbH0AsCuG/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_9573.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkFd19Cs1M7KmfPrXTvPoYdejsfTrPhPNfxz5wuuybWtu8G7Bmyf-6VgYjX_H6iOMAFhrdEsFxCsyTM5vUZ1g0z2zBAOlcBvijpbrK4oYED_GDTTdTBjoQTOS7zw9RxnBk3M9JbH0AsCuG/s200/thumbnail_IMG_9573.jpg" width="150" /></a>I spent last New Year's Eve with someone that didn't want me there. I've heard how you ring in the New Year can be telling. And it was. Lesson learned. So this year, I made a better choice and decided to celebrate the New Year with the ones that love me most...my kiddos! We had visits from one of my very good friends and my mom throughout the day. Then we made appetizers and drank sparkling cider and played board games. The Game of Life brought out the best and worst in each of us. We argued and laughed our way into the New Year together. It was perfect!<br />
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I sat here on the first day of 2020 and I sipped my blueberry coffee. The taste brought me back to the first time I had that flavor 7 years ago as Oz and I sat in a divorce lawyer's office. We were paying her by the hour to listen to us argue. It would have been cheaper to stay home and fight for free, but neither of us could figure out the paperwork on our own, so there we were.<br />
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Reflecting, I realize how much I have grown since that time. I used to wear my grandfather's rosary beads around my neck and spray myself with sage before trying to mediate with Oz. I wasn't great at controlling my temper. I was short sighted and didn't handle the unknown very well.<br />
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Having had some years of practice, I am navigating life and adulthood much better now. Adulting took some getting used to. But, it hasn't been so bad. Thankfully Oz has stayed one of my closest friends over the years and his warm-hearted wife is a very effective mediator when needed.<br />
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Luckily, despite the learning curve I went through, the kids are turning out to be pretty good people. According to Luccio, "Life is the best right now!" I have to say I agree and that's thanks to good friends, supportive family and these Goofball kids that are the greatest part of my life. <br />
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Happy New Year!<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-87422301855010417682019-08-22T13:57:00.001-04:002019-08-22T15:45:23.183-04:00Isn't She Lovely?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1lMeyhx09DdeZHow2mddu2oXJhSsMoJxB07dw5vqk0ecdGX-1LArPmkyLl_QGa4RPRtuvAUQfjU1sOlD9FcV7ScdOpHQsujrbMJa08m-JgFmYsYBoW3MV8YbGrZtt9jE3Aqw9HaKOawR/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_5788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="750" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1lMeyhx09DdeZHow2mddu2oXJhSsMoJxB07dw5vqk0ecdGX-1LArPmkyLl_QGa4RPRtuvAUQfjU1sOlD9FcV7ScdOpHQsujrbMJa08m-JgFmYsYBoW3MV8YbGrZtt9jE3Aqw9HaKOawR/s200/thumbnail_IMG_5788.jpg" width="143" /></a>When she was born, we rejoiced as many new parents do. We sang, "Isn't She Lovely" in loud, off key voices. She has a sweet, gentleness that we felt from the moment her tiny eyes opened. The doctor told me I couldn't go to the NICU to see her because I had pre-eclampsia and needed meds for 24 hours first. But, I insisted and finally they relented and wheeled my whole bed over to the NICU so I could glimpse her face for a few minutes. She was so brand new and had ointment on her eyes, but she managed to open them and look right at me. I felt every bit of myself falling for her. It was all over after that. I held her nearly constantly for months. I spent as much time as humanly possible with her, while also wrangling her twin brothers who were toddlers at the time. Eventually I went from wearing her in a sling to pushing her in a stroller. And then, one day I realized she was over a year old and walking. At nearly 3, she had to go to school so I could work. I thought my heart would break and never heal when I dropped her off. But, she wasn't far. I took her with me to the school I work at and we are still there together 7 years later. <br />
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As she approaches turning 10, I feel like I can no longer look at her as the tiny toddler I dropped off that first day at school. It really hit me this summer that my Baby Doll is growing up.<br />
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She has been spending a ton of time with our Cousin and her baby aka Little Cute Man. She has taken to caring for Little Cute Man as a Helper, when my Cousin needs to get things done around the house. She holds, changes, feeds and plays with him. One day I went to pick her up and she was carrying that 1 year old on her hip like a pro. I was holding my breath as she trotted down the stairs with him. How can she be strong enough to lift him and keep her balance on the stairs when she is just a baby herself?? But, she quickly reminded me...SHE ISN’T A BABY ANYMORE.<br />
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I was still in disbelief until we babysat Little Cute Man together one night. Any time I went near him he cried and ran to Baby Doll. She had to pick him up and comfort him. She did all the care taking while I sat in the background. <br />
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That's when it hit me...SHE IS NOT A BABY ANYMORE!<br />
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She recently spent some overnights with our Cousin as well. In her absence, we all realized how much Baby Doll does around our house. I was late for work and forgot my bag that she would normally have packed for me and had waiting by the door. The frog and the dog looked at me expectantly as I rushed around that morning because she normally feeds them. the Twin Goofballs didn't take vitamins because their sister reminds them each morning. The dog poop didn't get scooped because she is is the only one that will do it without gagging and complaining (and because she earns money to buy more lip glosses.)<br />
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She organizes our bulletin boards with important papers and info we need for school, work and life. She is the only one that knows how to get onto the Wifi because she has the password on a post-it. She is the only one that thinks of lining the bathroom garbage can with a bag to make it easier to empty. She has an endless supply of envelopes she lets me borrow because I never remember to get them at the store. She taught the dog to problem solve with a new puzzle toy. She reminds everyone to brush their teeth at night...even the dog. She folds towels like a professional laundress. She always has a fresh Sharpie ready to label everything. She stocks the First Aid kit on a regular basis ( I didn't even know we HAD a first aid kit!) She has created a mixture of soap plus water so it dispenses the perfect foam and she refills it without being asked.<br />
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I'm not sure where she gets the organization and forethought. Certainly not from me or Oz.<br />
But, I am thankful "she's got skills" as she says. Her teacher told us, "She has the beauty and the brains!"<br />
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I love hearing her insights too. She gives good advice, even if I don't ask for it. She is very quiet and reserved, but when she speaks watch out. She does not waste words.<br />
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For the most part she is positive when she offers her thoughts. But, she is vocal when it comes to her dislike of my bathing suit choices or certain men in my life. She has distinct qualities she likes in people and if you are dishonest or break a promise she will cross you off her list forever.<br />
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She has developed her own line of lip balm and is an <br />
avid artist. She styles outfits like a Fashionista.<br />
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She hasn't decided yet what she will be in the future, but in the running: Teacher, Congresswoman, Lawyer, Doctor or Owner of a Cat Salon.<br />
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Whatever she may be, "I Will Love Her Forever and Like Her For Always!"<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-92000615344028229882019-08-19T19:30:00.002-04:002019-08-19T21:48:32.771-04:00Furnishings <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNLRuod_iJm7l7yJOwM0_a2c5DvvKbWvm2U-O1tOFpEu0_KnDevI65lfcqZEXc3KBxiJYCfe5ibeRzNt3RgvlcLlHiVrlXuiMZQwXDW9z3Rjx6LZ5a-hMXfHVLa6_9K8twX_o1ClWQnfX/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_5767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNLRuod_iJm7l7yJOwM0_a2c5DvvKbWvm2U-O1tOFpEu0_KnDevI65lfcqZEXc3KBxiJYCfe5ibeRzNt3RgvlcLlHiVrlXuiMZQwXDW9z3Rjx6LZ5a-hMXfHVLa6_9K8twX_o1ClWQnfX/s320/thumbnail_IMG_5767.jpg" width="240" /></a> If you lined up the guys I have found attractive, you wouldn't think I have a TYPE. At first glance, they seem very different. The way I connected with each is unique too.<br />
<br />
Over the years some have meant more than others. Some were better as friends, others are stories that are only funny long after the fact.<br />
<br />
But, 3 matter most to me because they have had an impact on who I am becoming.<br />
<br />
One was an emotional connection, one was a physical connection and one was a soul connection. If they were merged, they would be the perfect man.<br />
<br />
<br />
Yet despite their differences, they are very much the same. They are Protectors, nurturing, creative, funny, great story tellers and charismatic. I do love charisma. I have loved each of them to different degrees and in different ways.<br />
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None of those 3 were The One, but I found a bit more of myself from the lessons they taught me.<br />
<br />
They have each gone on to different directions, new lives, fresh starts. But, I am reminded of those lessons when I reflect on how much of my home was furnished in their wake.<br />
<br />
I have not lived with them all, yet my home contains pieces of them.<br />
<br />
One left behind dressers and bunk beds for my boys and a poop emoji pillow.<br />
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Another left a kitchen table, TVs, tv stands, end tables, a washing machine, a giant ramp for toy car races, a bed for my daughter, a trampoline, a shop vac, some custom made bookshelves and a Unicorn.<br />
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The other gave me some fans, a lamp, a robotic garbage can and a teddy bear.<br />
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Now don't get me wrong...2 of those men have made me so mad at various times, that I took great joy in throwing out some of their belongings. A well-worn orange Nike shirt was my favorite things to shove in a garbage bag. And I will never, EVER miss the 6 foot plastic Christmas tree.<br />
<br />
But, the parts that I kept seemed to fit. I accepted them and have made them my own.<br />
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I used to think that being the one to stay meant that I was stuck, like I was tied down somehow with no escape. But, as I learn from each lesson, I gain a better understanding of myself.<br />
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Being stable, having a strong foundation for me and my children...it's not being stuck. It is a choice and because I have built that foundation so strong... I can stay. I have the freedom to stay and build. I don't need to leave in order to restart. I take the pieces of what I have around me and I add on to that life and to this home that I have made.<br />
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In staying, I have restarted over and over, but each time I am not back at zero. I restart from where I left off, sometimes a little more wary, a little more ragged. But, more often than not I continue on stronger, smarter, and more alive that I used to be. I finally realized somewhere along the way, I have actually become content in my house and within myself.<br />
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These comforts of home remind me of what I have chosen to keep as I move forward on my path.<br />
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I value the insights, the lessons, and the furnishings I have picked up along my way.<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-66503417069175051782019-08-13T19:22:00.001-04:002021-07-07T17:34:34.685-04:00The Scent<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_A0bF4Nq5jOZHbWmRvNxIDLeWyvbW_K9QOtgQEVEOkGlSAXjsTOvHGzep2V5pVTtiC0H5q4zfDOqV-qqI71rT_Hw3oRE0cqtQfXWJNpZiawpLSD3afuoEaWTNqVhYGo5dKHtk9MrLCIBA/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_5343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="750" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_A0bF4Nq5jOZHbWmRvNxIDLeWyvbW_K9QOtgQEVEOkGlSAXjsTOvHGzep2V5pVTtiC0H5q4zfDOqV-qqI71rT_Hw3oRE0cqtQfXWJNpZiawpLSD3afuoEaWTNqVhYGo5dKHtk9MrLCIBA/s200/thumbnail_IMG_5343.jpg" width="123" /></a>How much does scent matter in romance? I have wondered this over the last few years as I have dated since divorcing. My mom has a theory that certain people have "The Scent." We used to tease my aunt that she had it because men would swarm around her. We did not think she had an actual scent, but men seemed especially attracted to her. Could have been her blond hair and blue eyes?<br />
<br />
But, some people do seem to have an ACTUAL scent that is particularly attractive to others.<br />
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I have encountered 4 men over the years that have "The Scent" that I find inexplicably attractive in a way that is intoxicating. The first time was T. in High School. I loved his scent. One day I came home from school and said, "is T. here? I smell him." He had been at my house while I was out and surprised me by leaving flowers and balloons. Everyone felt like my sense of smell ruined his surprise.<br />
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Another time The Scent hit me was when I was in college. I was sitting in the lobby of my dorm when College Guy walked by and The Scent hit me like a brick to my head. I lost all sensibility and fell for him immediately. That crush lasted longer than it should have and I am fully convinced it was because of The Scent of him. It wasn't his Joop cologne- although I loved that smell too- but it was his skin. His neck has this scent that I felt drunk from.<br />
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<a href="https://my2muses.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-end-beginning.html">Oz</a> didn't have The Scent. I stayed much more clear headed as I delved into marriage and family.<br />
I bought him colognes and we finally both agreed on Ralph Lauren's Romance for Men. It was a nice smell, but it wasn't The Scent. I think I was better able to navigate life when I wasn't caught up in the smell.<br />
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I did realize after we separated that although he didn't have THE Scent, he had A Scent. One that I was used to and found comforting. So I confiscated one of his shirts and slept with it under my pillow until I was able to get used to falling asleep on my own.<br />
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Up until that point, the two times I had experienced the rush of attraction to The Scent had seemed harmless. I was young and it didn't matter as much who I found attractive or why.<br />
But, after divorcing I realized there was a link between "The Scent" and toxic people/relationships.<br />
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I encountered <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2014/04/so-whats-your-plan.html">Deli Guy.</a> He worked at a place that I took refuge in when I needed somewhere to hide while Oz visited the kids in the beginning. Deli Guy was cute and friendly and after awhile we began dating. It was a disaster on so many levels. I knew it a couple weeks in, but stayed with him for a few more months because he had The Scent. I couldn't get enough of him.<br />
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I dated a few other guys at that time because I knew Deli Guy was not The One.<br />
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But, shortly after that, I met...<a href="https://my2muses.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-wild-one.html">The Wild One.</a> I felt a magnetic attraction immediately and when I got closer to him I picked up The Scent. Stronger than I had ever smelt it or felt it. All logic and rational thought was out the window. Gone. Years of toxicity and drama ensued. Even when I was done, I wasn't. If he stepped past the front door and I smelled The Scent it was over. <br />
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It's not cologne, its not laundry detergent. It is unexplainable. <br />
Something just clicks in my brain and my judgment takes flight.<br />
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One man recently did not have any scent at all. Or at least I didn't think so. My kids thought he did. They would say I smelled like him or his house. My friend thought he did and randomly commented on it. She thought it was his laundry detergent. I was shocked! I don't smell a scent. Nothing at all.<br />
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My friend suggested maybe that was to protect me. Like maybe my brain knows not to create a bond because this guy wasn't sticking around? Maybe it's a built in defense mechanism to shut off my sense of smell? Or maybe it is a chemical in my brain that didn't connect with his scent?<br />
Or maybe I was able to see his genuine qualities more clearly and appreciate them without the fogginess of The Scent.<br />
<br />
Hmmmmm....<br />
<br />
Got me wondering...does everyone experience The Scent at one point or another? Does it always mean toxic bonds? Has anyone ever known their partner was The One by their scent? Does Prince Charming have a scent?<br />
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Inquiring minds want to know...<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-6993047480894547322019-08-03T13:10:00.001-04:002020-01-01T16:34:57.986-05:00The Kingdom of Ash<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycZQ6sPptzrjQJTsLAHwfgZscAgOt0_o-oZUbxvgGLAueEBuNHZZoRs8myoQceN-TPUkttmCvrni57rdATxVDejjMTzw_jAN7qqlY4z6jOKEfmj2y-bD1fPW3Yu0TbM33JhXocyOXJrG-/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_5195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="750" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycZQ6sPptzrjQJTsLAHwfgZscAgOt0_o-oZUbxvgGLAueEBuNHZZoRs8myoQceN-TPUkttmCvrni57rdATxVDejjMTzw_jAN7qqlY4z6jOKEfmj2y-bD1fPW3Yu0TbM33JhXocyOXJrG-/s200/thumbnail_IMG_5195.jpg" width="200" /></a>Sometimes you meet people for a reason...sometimes that reason is so you can meet their dog. When <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2019/04/hey-neighbor.html">Neighbor</a> moved in last year, I was petrified when I saw two big pit bull looking dogs inside of an electric fence perimeter. I warned the kids to stay away from those vicious dogs. Never go near the perimeter or touch them or talk to them. Maybe do not even look at them cause what if they ran right through the invisible electric barrier. The kids thought I was nuts! They couldn't wait to be friends with those dogs. But, I wasn't so sure. Anyone that visited me or walked by the house saw those two sitting there and were so scared! One friend wouldn't even get out of her car.<br />
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Eventually I met the dogs and realized they were just sweethearts that wanted to be my friend. As I got to know them better, I became particularly fond of Ash. She is so sweet and has these eyes that are so gentle and human like. It's hard not to fall for her routine of cuteness and give her tons of love.<br />
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Overtime I became more attached to Ash. One day she was on the losing end of a battle with her sister dog and when I heard the noise I went running outside. I saw her lying on the ground with blood all over her neck and some instinct in me kicked in. I ran over to her and wanted to carry her home to take care of her. Of course I couldn't lift her and she was inside of an electric fence so it wasn't all that graceful. But, Neighbor brought her over to my house and Bella and I cleaned her up and snuggled her. I felt this bond with her when she looked at me. Like she knew I got what she was feeling.<br />
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Ash ended up staying with us and becoming part of our pack. I am supposed the Pack Leader, but really she is our Furry Queen. Me and the kids and <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2015/11/on-this-day.html">Oz</a> and Dorothy have all fallen for the charms of this little dog. My brother too. He calls her The Unicorn because she is the most well behaved dog we have ever known. Neighbor has trained her so she is a great listener, but as time goes on she is training us.<br />
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The kids had begged for years for a dog. But, I am not really an animal loving person. Also, I don't do well with responsibility or commitment. So the thought of keeping something else alive seemed like just too much for me.<br />
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But, Ash is different. She is a kindred spirit. She is an older dog so her energy is low like mine. She understands personal boundaries. So even though she shadows me everywhere I go, she does not get right in my face or lick me without permission.<br />
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Her personality is a lot like mine too. We are small and stubborn. We both like to to play with the big dogs even though we get hurt in the process. And we don't really learn our lesson the first time around...or the second...or well at all. So we keep going back for more.<br />
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A few weeks after Ash moved in, we thought we would have her sister dog over for a play date.<br />
BAD IDEA. Very bad. Within minutes together they were in a fight that looked like two lions on National Geographic ripping each other apart.<br />
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I did not stay calm. AT ALL. In fact, I was the exact opposite of calm.<br />
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Neighbor was holding his dog by her back legs and kept yelling at me to grabbed Ash's legs like a wheelbarrow and pull her out of the fight.<br />
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Ummm...no. I couldn't stick my hands into a dog fight. I had met a women once that lost a thumb breaking up a dog fight. I wasn't going to do it.<br />
<br />
So I just screamed and screamed.<br />
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Ash was so bloody and I thought she was going to be dead. I just continued screaming until I finally got the courage to grab her legs and pull her.<br />
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Somehow we got in the house and I felt dazed. I know she is a dog. But, In my head she's a 2 month old baby. My mom and Neighbor both think that's nuts since in dog years she is older than me. But, in my gut, I feel this instinct that I need to protect this dog like she is a human that came from my womb. It is insane.<br />
<br />
Even insaner was when I heard the cops at my front door. Three neighbors had called the cops thinking one of my kids was getting hurt. So when I opened the door, it wasn't just the 2 cops on my porch...but they were up and down the entire street. Once they saw that all of kids were ok, they calmed down a bit. But, it was a scary few minutes. <br />
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It was what my good friend refers to as... A Paper Pants Moment, as in "you are lucky you did not end up in the psych ward wearing paper pants."<br />
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Luckily, Oz loves Ash too. So he met me at the emergency vet. The conversation was funny when they had her registered as Oz's dog and I had to ask them to switch it cause she is my dog and he's my ex-husband. "Ohhh?? So he's just her emergency contact?" Yes something like that. <br />
<br />
She healed quickly and fit right into the family. She spends her days sleeping on the furniture I swore I would never allow a dog on. She enjoys following me around and watching me put on my make up, get dressed, clean, drink coffee, sit, etc. She loves snuggling with the kids and licking Luccio's feet and face like he is her puppy. She likes to sneak into Cenzo's Teen Cave and eat leftover pizza crust. <br />
She shows off when we put on her tutu and call her pretty.<br />
And LOVES rides in the car. She is awful on leash but slowly we are teaching to walk "gentle" and "slow." I take her to abandoned parks where there is little chance of running into other dogs- just in case.<br />
<br />
We have all agreed that she needs a longer name fit for a Princess, or for when she is in trouble. So we have crowned her... Ashlyn Rose. But, we still call her Ash most of the time.<br />
<br />
I truly didn't think I could love having a dog. But, I do. She is great company. She listens to all my stories and knows all my secrets. She has endless love to give and that is just what this family of Goofballs needed. Cenzo said she gives him a reason to hang out with us instead of playing video games sometimes. Luccio said he didn't know he could love a person so much. I tried to explain to him that she isn't a person, but then we all laughed and laughed cause we remembered.. she is!<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-72508993473850379202019-04-27T15:39:00.003-04:002019-04-27T15:39:55.477-04:00Not THAT Beautiful <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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His head rested on my lap, he'd been drinking and I thought he had fallen asleep. Then I heard him say softly, "You know you are beautiful. But, you are not THAT beautiful." My ears perked up. What the hell was he saying to me? <br />
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He kept talking. He was saying...some women are the ones for the long term. You're kind and funny and caring and it's better to not be looking for someone that is just beautiful. <br />
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All I could hear was... ugly.<br />
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I pushed him off my lap and he sat up looking confused.<br />
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"What's the matter?" he asked as he tried to focus his eyes. <br />
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"Why are you telling me I am not beautiful?" I questioned.<br />
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"I never said that. I just meant you are MORE than beautiful. <br />
I am giving you the highest compliment and you are pissed that I am not saying you are a just a sweet looking piece of ass?" he asked shocked.<br />
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He seemed genuinely confused. I felt genuinely offended.<br />
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Thankfully he fell back to sleep and didn't remember the conversation when he woke up.<br />
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We didn't rehash that topic, but in my mind I just keep hearing "you're not THAT beautiful."<br />
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The other day I was listening to the radio and I heard an interview and the guy was saying... my wife is so much more than beautiful. She's kind, she's funny. She's the real deal."<br />
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It struck me how when I heard what this man was saying, I thought "wow how sweet!!"<br />
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<br />
But, hearing someone say it about me had hit a nerve. Why? <br />
Why couldn't I hear a compliment in that statement.<br />
Where does that come from?<br />
Is it because I don't believe I am beautiful?<br />
Did I really think he was saying he doesn't think I am beautiful?<br />
<br />
It started me thinking about... what is Beauty? Who is beautiful? How is it measured?<br />
What does it mean to be not THAT beautiful? Or MORE than beautiful?<br />
<br />
And why does it even matter to me what someone else thinks of me?<br />
<br />
I must have some idea of what beauty is because I have taught my amazing little girl to have confidence in her beauty. She 100% knows that she is BEAUTIFUL. She is so sure of herself. When she looks in the mirror she says "WOW, I look good!" <br />
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And when she looks at me she says, "Mama you are SO beautiful!"<br />
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That little girl reminds me that beauty is in each of us. We just need to believe it and let it show.<br />
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"Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself." - Coco Chanel<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-3493062532921780432019-04-07T10:39:00.002-04:002019-04-07T18:34:53.302-04:00Hey Neighbor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiBqpSfOfjp9O3pHyikdj_0dmgSfkJ3JyWNC5TIORyosLauA6saaTaIEwnBQab69TkoesT9H510hvPr5qtXLUnx_AFUGDQH8MipeXzyWHMZK27dLMFmT_GDKMOpT-wvhBdVXdIuuG3AvS6/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_0222-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiBqpSfOfjp9O3pHyikdj_0dmgSfkJ3JyWNC5TIORyosLauA6saaTaIEwnBQab69TkoesT9H510hvPr5qtXLUnx_AFUGDQH8MipeXzyWHMZK27dLMFmT_GDKMOpT-wvhBdVXdIuuG3AvS6/s200/thumbnail_IMG_0222-1.jpg" width="150" /></a>I had been thinking a lot about the kind of person I would want to spend my life with. I made vision board collages and did guided meditation to call in the One. I planned to manifest Him out of thin air. But, I just met wacko after wacko. Often I would say to myself... if I am ever going to find a decent guy, God will have to bring him to my front door...and one day He did!<br />
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My new Neighbor just showed up on my lawn last summer. He introduced himself on moving day. It was funny because he has the same name as Oz and I have the same name as his ex. I thought, wow Serendipity!<br />
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I went on vacation right after that and didn't think of it again for a couple weeks. Then one night I was home alone and remembered it was Garbage Night. It was a very hot, extremely humid evening and I already had my onesie romper on. I luckily remembered to put a bra on before heading outside.<br />
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I went to get the garbage out and realized that the kids must not have put recycling out for MONTHS!! There were a ton of boxes in the garage. I was soooo pissed!! I couldn't find a box cutter so I started just ripping them to shreds and swearing under my breath as I sweated buckets.<br />
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Then, I hear someone say, "Hey Neighbor what are you up to?"<br />
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Oh. My. God. <br />
<br />
I was thinking...shit!! Please tell me that is NOT my new cute Neighbor standing behind me while I wear my onesie gross outfit and have the frizziest hair of the summer. <br />
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I turned around, sweating. Yup it was him. My mom used to say "You will never meet anyone just hanging around in your pajamas." Well...guess she was wrong for once!<br />
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He took out a utility knife and started helping me cut boxes.<br />
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We started talking, laughing, debating politics and getting to know each other. After the recycling mess was taken care of we sat on lawn chairs in my yard and talked for a long time. Then we drank some margaritas and talked for a couple more hours.<br />
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He was funny and friendly and conversation just flowed. I felt like I had known him forever.<br />
Since he had the same name as Oz. I was convinced it really was Serendipity. I thought maybe the Universe had been confused all those years ago and this was Oz 2.0!<br />
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A relaxing, fun summer of friendship turned into a Fall of more talking and even some hiking.<br />
We would stop by each others' houses and talk and talk. It felt like when I grew up next door to my best friend Steph. It was fantastic!<br />
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Easy going, endless conversation, lots of laughing. <br />
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He was cute. Really cute. He was honest and funny and stable. I felt like I had legit Manifested him into my life. But, I couldn't tell if he was interested in more than a friendship. Everyone said he would never spend so much time with me if he wasn't interested. The idea of the potential was enticing.<br />
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Then one night he asked me if I wanted to go see a band at my favorite Pub . Of course I did!<br />
We danced a little, talked a lot and drank until I threw up.<br />
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And we tried to turn it into a relationship...<br />
<br />
At first it seemed like everything I had hoped for. Fun, great conversation, interesting dates, relaxed and easy going. We live in a great Neighborhood for dating. Breakfast at the diner, dinner at one of the Italian restaurants. Everything is in walking distance. And since everyone in the neighborhood knows us, it gives new meaning to Walk of Shame.<br />
<br />
But, after a few weeks it changed. We started to have expectations of each other. He started calling me his girlfriend. I haven't had a "boyfriend" since I met Oz in 2002. I've dated. I have developed relationships. But, a "boyfriend" seemed different. I didn't think that really existed anymore. So I was surprised. It was nice.<br />
<br />
It was an interesting adjustment with his name being the same as Oz. My name has been said in combo with Oz's since 2002 so it was funny to hear that combo and it be someone else. Lots of jokes were made. The kids thought it was funny. My mom refused to call him by his first name as it was too confusing so instead she started calling him Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, then Mr. Rogers and eventually just Roger. One friend referred him as Oz 2.0. I just call him Neighbor for simplicity.<br />
<br />
Dating a Neighbor erases ANY facade you might put up pretty quick. They see you taking out the trash and wearing jammies outdoors sometimes. <br />
<br />
They hear you yelling at your kids. I'd yell at everyone, then get a text saying, "hey did you get those kids in line yet?"<br />
<br />
They see you without make up and undone. It makes it more comfortable and easier to get to know each other. It reminded me of when I lived in a college dorm. You bonded fast and furious with the people you met in the lounge at 2 am. You live together in the same environment. You get each other in a way that no one else does.<br />
<br />
But, the relationship expectations were our undoing... who would call and when and how often would we see each other? We live right next door and we were used to popping over to each others' place whenever, but that stopped. A boundary went up. Walls were built.<br />
<br />
<br />
The conversation didn't seem to flow as easily. One of us was always taking comments personally and what seemed like fun banter began to offend us both in different ways. We started questioning intentions and motives.<br />
<br />
We broke up once for 3 hours. But, then I thought...wait...the Universe sent him ... it was Divine Intervention..Serendipity...and so we tried again and never spoke of the 3 hour break up.<br />
<br />
We were together for a few months and it was fun...until it wasn't. <br />
<br />
But, I had MANIFESTED him! Surely God had brought him to my front door for a reason. So if it seemed like we weren't the right fit it HAD to be a misunderstanding right?<br />
<br />
Well.....it didn't last. We eventually found that the things that make us who we each are didn't fit quite right together.<br />
<br />
In the end, it was another lesson learned.<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-37520188047995795632019-03-19T22:52:00.003-04:002019-03-20T00:08:27.103-04:00Walrus Kisses<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last summer, I decided to try online dating. I had been trying to break my habit of cycling back to the <a href="https://my2muses.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-wild-one.html">Wild One </a>every season. Many of my friends had success in meeting great guys on an app called Bumble. So I thought why not give it a try.<br />
<br />
One thing that is unique about Bumble is that women have to message the guys first. It kind of goes against everything in my Italian Princess upbringing. But, since getting divorced I have learned dating is a shit show and I figured try new rules and see what happens.<br />
<br />
I looked through about 347 profiles and swiped right on 3. One seemed decent and stable, but on further review turned out to be a partier looking to add to his harem ....ummm no thanks.<br />
One was boring. His texts were like a bedtime story...zzzzz!<br />
The third one was great at conversation, funny, had a good job, grown children no longer at home, and time to devote. Sounded like potential.<br />
<br />
So with a newfound positivity - probably induced from days at the beach and a few margaritas- I decided to meet Guy #3 for wings and drinks. Well, he was funny enough to give him a chance for another date.<br />
<br />
With an open mind I ventured out with him again.<br />
<br />
He quickly earned the nickname Ol' Man because even though he was only 5 years older, he acted like an 80 year old. He went to sleep by 9 and his main hobby was eating out.<br />
<br />
Hmmm...I tried to keep an open-mind because everyone knows the only way to get over someone is to get under someone else, or something like that. So if I was ever going to break my Wild One habit, I had to make it through a few dates and truly give someone else a chance.<br />
<br />
Ol' Man was a big dude. He was 6'4 and outweighed me by a couple hundred pounds. I am a pretty big girl to begin with so his dining out habit was not helping my summer physique. I suggested dancing, bowling, etc. etc. But, nope he did not like loud music or any exercise. He was most comfortable at restaurants. So we ate. I tried to stick to appetizers or salads and mostly drank my calories.<br />
<br />
He was funny. He was sweet. He had great stories.<br />
<br />
And eventually he invited me over to "make dinner" for me. Of course.<br />
<br />
So I went. Still being open-minded. Still thinking this would be my Habit Breaker. Still thinking this sweet, stable man had some potential.<br />
<br />
He had a lovely house, which I realized when I arrived... he shared with ...his mother.<br />
Thankfully she was away for the week.<br />
<br />
He also had a small, handicapped dog that tried humping my leg through the entire dinner.<br />
<br />
He offered me a glass of wine, but I ended up drinking the whole bottle.<br />
<br />
When he kissed me I realized...shit was about to get real.<br />
<br />
But, all I could think about was Walruses. Giant, slobbering walruses.<br />
<br />
Four minutes in...Ol' Man thought he was having a heart attack and was having a hard time breathing.<br />
<br />
Shit Show!<br />
<br />
I stayed long enough to make sure he had a pulse and then I ran.<br />
<br />
On my way out he shouted, "Wait? Don't you want to finish the movie?"<br />
<br />
Hell. NO.<br />
<br />
Ol' Man was Not The Habit Breaker.<br />
<br />
For the next 2 weeks I kept having weird dreams about walruses.<br />
It was as if my MOJO had completely evaporated overnight.<br />
I was worried it was gone forever.<br />
<br />
The Wild One helped me prove my MOJO was just fine.<br />
And that turned out to be trouble and eventually ended in disaster of course.<br />
But that is a story for another time.<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-7328273060808006242019-02-13T18:49:00.001-05:002019-02-13T18:49:57.872-05:00The Things I Didn't Know<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJhxwT2ChWrL20Fcq2d4gcGVj1jmWglPSzL1K_tzYqG3P1qFy9257rMXsCSKv7hSDIfLDjV1DtTwe0E50rjnostlZXPClgW-hQAr5gN9sfET-NgaRoecYu8C6sImr77cVPWDShvLIY6SNz/s1600/229733_10150185884222692_3151743_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJhxwT2ChWrL20Fcq2d4gcGVj1jmWglPSzL1K_tzYqG3P1qFy9257rMXsCSKv7hSDIfLDjV1DtTwe0E50rjnostlZXPClgW-hQAr5gN9sfET-NgaRoecYu8C6sImr77cVPWDShvLIY6SNz/s200/229733_10150185884222692_3151743_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>While cleaning today, I got sidetracked when I found an old journal. It was from 2011. The last year my family was intact. It was surreal to read it and hear myself worry about how I would ever get caught up on laundry and dishes and wondering would Bella ever sleep past 5 am? If only I knew then that it would be the last year of my family together, would have I worried less about the chores? Would have done anything different? I sounded so tired in my journal entry, all I could write about was how I hadn't slept much in what felt like years. I was feeling overwhelmed and fat. Home with 3 kids under 5, I was absolutely exhausted. But, I still had hope. I was writing about the weekend and a playgroup I was taking the kids too. I was going to see my parents and have dinner with them. I was still planning the future with certainty.<br />
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Reading the journal was sort of like watching a suspenseful movie- I want to shout- stop! Look around you! You're about to walk into some major shit!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But 2011 was about laundry, dishes, family vacations and playgroups. I had life figured out. I had a plan. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I didn't know what was coming...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Over that next year, my father got sick, my marriage fell apart and the life I once knew and loved disappeared.<br />
<br />
In the 7 years since then I have gotten divorced, my dad died, I was diagnosed with MS, work became my life and in my spare time I began a toxic 4 year on/off relationship and it all eventually took a toll on me and my whole life. </div>
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The hope seemed gone. </div>
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<div>
Slowly over time, I have built a new life. It's not the life I dreamed of for me and my kids. But, with some re-imagining it's not too bad. The kids are pretty well-rounded, funny, smart and loving and a bit quirky. With the support of a great school community we all made it through the dark days and we're still standing.We couldn't have done it without my mom, brother, sister-in-law, cousins, and the friends who have become our family. It helps that my ex-husband has an amazing wife who fit right into our family and they both help me immensely. Our village has changed and grown and continues to evolve. </div>
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<br />
Today is the anniversary of my divorce. I remember standing in the court room that day, shaking and feeling like I was going to pass out. I heard the judge asking us questions and then finally pronouncing us both single. And I thought...now what? </div>
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I left that day with no idea what the future would bring and most days I still don't know. I don't have that reliable daily pattern anymore or a future plan. But, at least it's not hour by hour or even day by day anymore. Now I plan a month or so at a time. Today, I even started to think about summer which is still a few months away. </div>
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Progress. Hope Floats!<br />
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CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-52876276064670872732018-07-14T08:57:00.000-04:002018-07-14T17:15:55.715-04:00I Built Her Myself<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1GmhLjLhkr1oqOSwMi0H7nxzxKbcnLyEHL6XT9ub8UFylIjJ7XJ-PpQkFthsTOrWMG34AOyJZxemjVk-XX6hhCSV9KH_3LooymBjv7_yBmHyBA7JJmOGRgfxh90ugj-2T-wJZva7fT8E/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_4137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="961" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1GmhLjLhkr1oqOSwMi0H7nxzxKbcnLyEHL6XT9ub8UFylIjJ7XJ-PpQkFthsTOrWMG34AOyJZxemjVk-XX6hhCSV9KH_3LooymBjv7_yBmHyBA7JJmOGRgfxh90ugj-2T-wJZva7fT8E/s320/thumbnail_IMG_4137.jpg" width="240" /></a>Some days it feels like a lot of work to pull myself together. Friday was one of those days. After Oz picked up the kids for an overnight visit at his place, I took a look at myself. I had recently gotten back from a 17 hour road trip alone with 3 children. And what was left of me was a shell of myself. And SHE was just sitting there. Not moving. Like a lump on the couch.<br />
<br />
I reminded her that her friends were going out to see a band that she likes and that there would be dancing and that she should get herself together and start getting ready. <br />
<br />
But, she had a lot of excuses. She felt like she was too tired, too old and too drained of life force energy from everything she endured over the last few years. She felt sadness because she thought about the reality that her dad died and is still dead 4 years later. She thinks MS makes her tired. She gained 4 pounds but feels like it's 100. Her ex-husband is getting remarried in 3 weeks. And she feels like she is going to die alone.<br />
<br />
She wanted to wallow in despair and pay bills and sweep the crud off the kitchen floor. She wanted to stay home on her couch and eat the fudge brownie ice cream the kids hadn't found yet while she finished binging another season of Shadow Hunters and take off her bra and put on her romper. <br />
<br />
That was IT! Enough! I had to intervene! I could not let her her put that damn onesie on and sit around feeding her friggin' face junk food while her friends were dancing somewhere. NO!<br />
<br />
So I pulled her off of the couch and forced her into the bathroom. I blasted her favorite songs from her phone and threw her into the shower and strongly encouraged her to shave every inch of her Italian fur off. She tried to get away with a quick once over with the razor, but nope! All of it! How does it grow so freakin' fast?<br />
<br />
I almost felt bad for her and let her put the onesie on and go back to the couch after all the effort the shaving took. Then I remembered the dancing and my Old Self that wasn't a haggard shell and I pushed forward with my mission.<br />
<br />
Next I worked on her hair. She protested of course and wanted to just leave it wet and put it in a messy bun like she had been doing all summer so far. But- nope! Not having it.<br />
<br />
She complained it was dried out from the chlorine and salt water from vacation, it was in need of coloring. It was out of control. And she was right.<br />
<br />
So, I took out all of my tools and turned them to the highest heat settings they had. I used the super strength oil and smoothing creme and I used the salon quality hair dryer I had splurged on for situations such as this. I sectioned the ratty hair into sections. And slowly I dried it. One section at a time.<br />
<br />
She tried to convince me to not let her out of the house until her hair color appointment later this week. But, nope! I persisted.<br />
<br />
Next, I slathered more oil on the hair. Then I used the flat iron. Again sectioning it. She wanted me to just run it over chunks of hair to quickly flatten it a bit.<br />
Ummm....nope.<br />
<br />
Section by small freaking section I smoothed and flat ironed that straw back into silk.<br />
<br />
Not too bad!<br />
<br />
While the curling iron heated up we worked on her face.<br />
<br />
Oh Self, what the hell happened here??<br />
<br />
I tried not to be angry, but seriously she hadn't used her face soap and exfoliator in so long that she couldn't even find it. WTF?!<br />
<br />
Luckily, I dug it out from the dark hole in the closet and gave her face a good scrubbing. <br />
The old, dead, dried out skin went away. But, the underneath layer was sunburned and reddish and had some blemishes.<br />
<br />
I knew she would use these as excuses to put that darn onesie on and watch tv.<br />
<br />
SO- I convinced her it was part of looking like summer!<br />
<br />
Before she could register that this isn't a thing- I started dabbing foundation on to blend her face a bit. I had to admit there was no hiding the pimple on her forehead or the sunburned nose.<br />
<br />
I decided instead to use a cream blush to highlight her cheeks and lips and leave the blemishes and "naturalness."<br />
<br />
Hmmm....ok she was starting to perk up. <br />
<br />
Next were the eyes. I smudged some eyeshadow on with my finger because she couldn't find a brush and was too lazy to dig out q-tips. SO I made due.<br />
<br />
Not bad! <br />
Now for the eyeliner....inside edge of the bottom lid first.<br />
<br />
OMG! She started to look alive. So I kept going.<br />
<br />
Outer edge of top lids.<br />
And one slight wing at each edge.<br />
<br />
Ohhhhhh my!<br />
<br />
And finally my most favorite of all make-up....Mascara!<br />
I had saved the best for last. I knew that lash by lash I could uncover my True Self.<br />
I still had belief she was in there.<br />
<br />
And as I swept that black wonder across those lashes, I saw her. Her eyes sparkled. She was awake now.<br />
<br />
Before she lost the sparkle I added a touch of brown brow pencil and BAM!!!! She was alive in there!<br />
<br />
It was HER- the woman that likes to listen to music and go out with friends and dance!<br />
<br />
Oh, but the outfit, her eyes dulled at the thought.<br />
<br />
I reminded her about the black dress hanging on the hook in her room. <br />
She protested that it wasn't actually a dress, but a beach cover up.<br />
<br />
I had already anticipated this reaction, so I was ready with a necklace and earrings<br />
and WAAAAA-LAAAAA<br />
it's a dress!<br />
<br />
She wasn't too sure, but she didn't have time to think as I shoved her fat little feet into her peacock print shoes that she loves.<br />
<br />
That distracted her enough to forget she was wearing a beach cover-up as a dress because it was the only thing clean that actually fit her.<br />
<br />
Finally dressed ... I used a giant-barreled curling iron to add some OOOMPH to her hair.<br />
Just a few well placed curls because at this point I'm lucky she even has any patience left at all.<br />
<br />
One very important last step- the root spray. I shook that can up and sprayed that dark brown paint over as much of her gray hairs as I could. Took practically the whole can but I covered most of it!<br />
<br />
<br />
And then...she looks in the mirror and seems to approve. Or at least not head back to the couch.<br />
<br />
So she goes to the bar and meets up with her friends and they talk and laugh and she is awake and happy and then the band plays and she loves every song and can't sit in her seat because she needs to stand up and dance!<br />
<br />
And she knows every word to Jesse's Girl and Livin' on A Prayer so she sings it with her friends and laughs and laughs.<br />
<br />
And I know she will be ok...because I built her myself. <br />
<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-73388034416921052062018-07-04T11:34:00.001-04:002018-07-14T01:44:41.382-04:00Clumps of Wisdom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I needed a hobby to put on my Dating Profile, besides binge watching Netflix and reading, so I decided to branch out and try something new and exciting...like...pottery. I know! But, hey at least it's not needlepoint or something really boring. Anyway...it's relaxing AND I have met some interesting new people to ponder life with as we throw clay at a potter's wheel.<br />
<br />
This week's gem of a life lesson was...if a project is too far gone, just let it go. Stop trying to fix it. It won't get better. If it doesn't have a strong base, it will just flop over. And no one likes flopping. (Nope!)<br />
<br />
When is enough enough? When do you throw it into the messy, wet clump of a pile with the other clay that will never be a vase?<br />
<br />
When it starts to get holes, let it go. Start over. Let something new grow. Don't even think about it again. Move forward to the next project. <br />
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Makes sense.<br />
<br />
It's sad to let go of something you have put effort into and hoped would turn out the way you imagined. But, sometimes it feels good to take that uneven mess and stuff it into the scrap bin.<br />
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I also learned, it takes incredible strength to move and shape clay into something other than a clump. Who would have thought??<br />
But, I think I can count my wheel throwing time as my workout for the week!!<br />
<br />
Bit by bit, week by week I am starting to shape something. <br />
My bowls sometimes look like coasters, my vases are the size of small tea cups, but my clumps are taking shape. My circle of friends is widening.<br />
<br />
And I have a hobby!<br />
<br />
~Abba, you are the potter and I am the clay~<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-50885019365141288782018-03-25T18:32:00.000-04:002018-06-17T18:12:33.760-04:00Relationships: The Dead Cow Analogy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was mortified when my children lectured me about relationship choices and it basically turned into an intervention. The evening had started off normally enough, watching some tv shows together. We were watching Full House and it was the episode where the father goes on a date.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> During the commercial break, The Goofballs added their own commentary and related the episode to my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Goofball #1 began the lecture....so Mom, we noticed The Wild One has been around again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had been mindlessly zoning out, so I snapped to attention and was like "Huh?"</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He continued...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So you said you were done and you were moving on. But, now he's around again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It reminds me of a cow standing in a field. You promise us you won't shoot the cow, then a month later we go back and the cow is dead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wait, what? Am I the cow??</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The he said, Well, if that happened we would feel sad for the cow. And I feel sad for you. Because we know how it ends when he is around. It's like when we watch the same Full House episodes over and over even though we have seen it. We just can't help it. And you can't help it, even though you know what happens. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Goofball #2 pipes in at this point...Yea we know how this ends. Breaking up again. Every time. So don't go back to being around him, then you won't have to break it off again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This lecture was starting to sound a lot like the Dua Lipa song, <b>New Rules</b> </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span></i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">don't let him in</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">You'll have to kick him out again, </span><br />
<div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> don't be his friend</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> ...if you're under him</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">You ain't getting over him"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was REALLY hoping we were not going THERE. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh but we were...</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Goofball #2 says</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's ok if you want to be friends with him. Just don't be "FRIEND Friends." Don't be "Kissing Friends."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Omg, did my Little Bear just say Kissing Friends??</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And my Baby Doll had the last word...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Don't be friends. Be DONE.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thankfully at that point the commercial break ended and Full House returned. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was speechless through most of the conversation, but I recovered enough to thank them all for their honesty and valuable opinions. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I also let them know we are no longer using Hulu. We are going back to Netflix because there are no commercial breaks. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-19042824982132641032018-02-04T15:04:00.000-05:002018-06-17T18:13:15.521-04:00Tat Tales<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXk-VSZ50huUyq6Jlo5BJ_FJFupLLH_2-vnvkFNe824d081nCBskRim55S9WGwoKPLoiYXJONi-P-cxiJOMWOp67mWXF-6EMjfsw2Px3ko3Ex_j4S91ftg-kvE5L5-Qh1_21FiMXNVsUPg/s1600/unnamed-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1274" data-original-width="1168" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXk-VSZ50huUyq6Jlo5BJ_FJFupLLH_2-vnvkFNe824d081nCBskRim55S9WGwoKPLoiYXJONi-P-cxiJOMWOp67mWXF-6EMjfsw2Px3ko3Ex_j4S91ftg-kvE5L5-Qh1_21FiMXNVsUPg/s320/unnamed-14.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
Every tattoo has a story to tell. What's yours? I love to hear why someone chose their tattoos. Is there a special meaning? Did you choose it just because you just felt like it in the moment? Had you planned it for a while first? How old were you? Who were you with? Would you go back and change anything about it?<br />
<br />
I got my first tattoo when I was 18 and graduating high school. My mom took me. It's a rose on my ankle. I had always wanted a rose because I admired my Aunt's rose tattoo. She is classy and elegant, but the small rose that can only be seen in the summer at the beach, let's the world know that she is a little bit of a badass. I thought I would get the rose on my hip like she did. But, when I got to the tattoo studio I wanted it on my ankle so I could actually see it.<br />
<br />
I don't remember that first tattoo hurting very much, but that was 24 years ago so it might have.<br />
I do remember taking care of it like that was my most important job that summer. I put sunscreen on it and stayed out of chlorine and and the sun so that my fuscia rose wouldn't fade. <br />
<br />
Over the years, it has faded a bit. It's been there so long, I don't even remember I have it, unless someone points it out. It is a mark of my age because so many women of my generation have a very similar tattoo in the same exact spot. <br />
<br />
My next tattoo was when I was 20. I had a fake tattoo that I loved of a Moon and a shooting star.<br />
One night I was just finishing my waitressing shift and a coworker and I were talking about tattoos.<br />
We both had one and wanted another one. She had heard of a new place that opened and so we stopped by after work. Should have been my first red flag when it was open late at night.<br />
But, we were 20. I showed the guy the picture of what I wanted and he then he redrew it with his own spin on things. SO the yellow moon with a sweet face that I wanted turned out to be a blue moon with a wicked grin and a shooting start that looked like the head of a snail.<br />
It was on my hip and it burned!!<br />
<br />
I couldn't really see it because of my fat roll from my stomach. So for the next 20 years I only saw it when I was at the beach or reminded by someone noticing it. I disliked it greatly and waited patiently for it to fade. It never did. <br />
<br />
So when I turned 40 I finally went to get it redone. <br />
I had the moon joined by a sun and the shooting star covered.<br />
It's better, but still not like the first picture I had of it.<br />
<br />
At 41 I got my next one. My Feather on my foot. I LOVE my feather. <br />
It is perfectly proportioned on my foot and looks amazing when I wear heels. <br />
I was very drawn to getting a feather. Everywhere I went, I saw feathers. I ended up reading an article about feathers being signs from Heaven and how Native Americans believe that feathers symbolize the spirit of those that passed. I am sure it is no coincidence that the feather idea came into my mind shortly after my father passed away.<br />
<br />
Last year, I turned 42 and went on "Spring Break" to visit the Wild One when he was living in Atlanta. We had a fantastic time sightseeing and hanging out. We had dinner across the street from a Tattoo Shop. I had been "Pinning" wrist tattoos for months. I knew exactly what I wanted - a Phoenix. <br />
<br />
So we took a walk over the the shop and decided to get new tattoos.<br />
Mine turned out exactly how I wanted it to be drawn, a Phoenix with butterfly elements. Curvy Wings. It was slightly larger than I had originally planned, but when they put the mock up on I loved it so much I decided to go with the larger size. It's also a little lower on my wrist than I originally wanted.<br />
<br />
It's more of an inner-arm tattoo, which I have since realized, is some sort of game-changer when it comes to tattoos for women. After I got it, I started to notice wrist and inner arm tats everywhere I went. I really like them. But, I also noticed this was my first tattoo that had some negative feedback from others - loved ones and strangers alike.<br />
<br />
It seems like maybe hip, ankle or foot tattoos are more socially acceptable for women or maybe just easier to cover up. But, the wrist or inner forearm seems to make a different sort of statement. I am not really sure what statement people think it makes, but something that is markedly different than other placements.<br />
<br />
I was surprised at the negative response in some instances when I first got it. It seems to be a love/hate tattoo. People either really hate it and say something rude about it or they love it and comment on the artwork or the meaning. One person said it looked "disgusting." Maybe because it's more visible that my others and has a darker ink? Or maybe the association of the Spring Break connection? One person said it was "completely badass."<br />
<br />
The comments have faded as the ink has faded a bit. With bracelets on it's barely visible. Anyway, I find it to be beautiful and I've learned over the years that I care less and less what other people think in general. The people that get it- are My People.<br />
<br />
When I look at my Phoenix I am reminded of the challenges I moved past in these few years. Challenges with my babies' births, miscarriages, divorce, my dad dying, MS diagnosis, break ups.<br />
Rise up from the flames. Learn life lessons. Move on. Be Better than Before.<br />
<br />
Last summer, I went back to Atlanta. The Wild One and I were hanging out. I had not been thinking of a another tattoo. But, that day I had an image come to my mind of 2 butterflies facing each other. So we decided to go back to the Tattoo Shop. I tried to find something similar on Pinterest. When I told the artist about the butterflies, he drew it exactly like the image I saw in my mind.<br />
<br />
The spot that looked perfect for it was on my lower back. I had always avoided the Tramp Stamp Trend, but that particular tattoo just fit in that spot so perfectly. Hurt like HELLLLLLLL though. I kept asking if he was almost done. He said, nope and it doesn't make it go any faster when you ask.<br />
<br />
Butterflies are New Life and I feel like I am always starting over, again and again. Each new chapter of life is a new beginning.<br />
<br />
Not many people see that one. I can't even really see it, so I forget it's there most of the time. <br />
But, my daughter saw it one day right after I got it. She loved it! She promised not to tell my mother because even at 43 I still hear flack from her, especially about "inking up" my body.<br />
So Bella thinks it's special that she knows about it.<br />
<br />
She told me that when she turns 18 she wants us to get matching Unicorns!<br />
I am definitely up for that!<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I have been contemplating a tiny behind the ear tattoo next.<br />
Pinterest pinning time!<br />
<br />
"No RAGRETS! Not Even One Letter??"<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYs88Hdp5R3oSRyvoQN1iR-GbMxADaGvq9OtcxAZqae1vqdHKFluT0XCi7_k_Tv9uUrymdZ6eiglFpP3SDRLIS3Hrc2iS6jdNVg-xKpdvK7y938gscnND00xJxdMP6QyWVth36YJsualE/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYs88Hdp5R3oSRyvoQN1iR-GbMxADaGvq9OtcxAZqae1vqdHKFluT0XCi7_k_Tv9uUrymdZ6eiglFpP3SDRLIS3Hrc2iS6jdNVg-xKpdvK7y938gscnND00xJxdMP6QyWVth36YJsualE/s400/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-38937879795937030922018-02-01T20:43:00.000-05:002018-02-01T21:27:45.516-05:00The Secret to a Happy Marriage<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkc2UjWEDDr-LnjiTYNO2zHeiDQ3-oshbeCJvQraJxEJ8L1tSbQ6bTtuQugJtadqwLlVD1m1l5G6Cyn5GPoRrBUCWG48LBCMhTbwNtK_F_1JOnhjbELYMgZE2lCfsHdiMDTBnX032WUDo/s1600/unnamed-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="886" data-original-width="1181" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkc2UjWEDDr-LnjiTYNO2zHeiDQ3-oshbeCJvQraJxEJ8L1tSbQ6bTtuQugJtadqwLlVD1m1l5G6Cyn5GPoRrBUCWG48LBCMhTbwNtK_F_1JOnhjbELYMgZE2lCfsHdiMDTBnX032WUDo/s320/unnamed-13.jpg" width="320" /></a>I got home tonight and my Ex-Husband, Oz, was at my house with the kids and a salesman from a roofing company. And that is not even the weirdest part of the story. Over the weekend Oz and Dorothy were at a Wedding Expo and they entered to win home improvement services. They don't own a home, but they know I do and that my home has a hole in the roof that squirrels have been moving into. So, they entered to win me a new roof. Or at least an estimate on one that I can finance (still not the most awkward part of the story.)<br />
<br />
So Roof Sales Man arrives while I was out with my friend and Oz was here with the kids. Roof Sales Man goes through his speech on roof stuff with Oz. Then I arrive. He assumes that I am Oz's wife because that makes sense. But, I don't realize it at first.<br />
<br />
After, he looks around he comes back inside to meet with us and says he needs to schedule another appointment and when are we available etc. etc. <br />
<br />
As he tries to talk about the pros of going with a more expensive shingle, he starts using all his sales tactics... he wonders how long do we expect them to last?<br />
He is looking at me and wants to know how long will we plan to be in the house. <br />
Well...who knows?? It was a starter home ...but here we are 14 years later. So...<br />
<br />
Then he says, so how long have you known each other? Well...about 16 years.<br />
<br />
"WOW!" he says, "so what's the secret to a happy marriage?"<br />
<br />
Ummm...Divorce?!<br />
<br />
<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-11974292207068789182018-01-21T21:27:00.001-05:002018-01-21T21:58:47.835-05:00The Way We Woo- Amended Version<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvm6f-k16o5G0C5Q95tEztTAb6TGhASPwrCznkUEJfJq5PDXt0roZKYxl9pTZ-iqZEOlVoLmT_XWne9QfL57XQN7WudvqKt-aF1Q5t7dDRo0Y1MHbDTHphqL-b7s8VmDHzubZwkazaF5MZ/s1600/unnamed-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvm6f-k16o5G0C5Q95tEztTAb6TGhASPwrCznkUEJfJq5PDXt0roZKYxl9pTZ-iqZEOlVoLmT_XWne9QfL57XQN7WudvqKt-aF1Q5t7dDRo0Y1MHbDTHphqL-b7s8VmDHzubZwkazaF5MZ/s320/unnamed-8.jpg" width="240" /></a> When you write about the people you've had a relationship with, there is always another side to consider. Sometimes those Exes have a thing or two to add to the story. Sometimes they have a perspective of their own. Only once before did I have an Ex ask for me to amend a post. That was the whole <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2014/02/the-skinny-jeans-debate.html">Skinny Jeans Debacle </a>with Oz. But, I recently wrote a post called the <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2017/11/the-art-of-wooing.html">Art of Wooing</a>. And <a href="https://my2muses.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-wild-one.html">The Wild One</a> had a few things to add. And so here goes....<br />
<br />
<b>The back story is:</b><br />
I had been "on again/off again" with - The Wild One- for the majority of the last 3 years. We have broken up 15 times. I would love to say that is an exaggeration. But, it's not. So...it is what it is. Months ago was the break up that felt like the most final of all the break ups.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Recently...</b><br />
<br />
I have been struggling with a Squirrel problem for what feels like years. EVERY damn winter the squirrels move into my attic. <br />
<br />
Oz has helped me keep it under control with setting traps each winter.<br />
<br />
But, the pesky bastards have gotten more brazen. They dug a bigger hole into the roof of my back porch. They invited their friends to join them.<br />
<br />
I found handling the situation professionally was expensive and beyond my single mom budget. So my nephew helped me and patched up the hole with some boards. Temporarily fixed!<br />
<br />
This winter when the squirrels moved in, a friend suggested a guy he knows that could patch the hole in the roof.<br />
<br />
So, Carpenter Guy shows up and says he will get back to me with an estimate. And...nothing. Didn't hear from him. In the meantime it snows. A lot. Finally, he texts and says he will stop by. He doesn't.<br />
<br />
It snows more. Lots more.<br />
The squirrels get louder, a lot louder.<br />
<br />
This past week I was doing laundry in my basement and heard the squirrels scurrying loudly through the walls. I FREAKED OUT!!!<br />
<br />
Oz said he would get some more traps. But, stated that obviously the hole needs repairing. I needed someone that could legit help repair it. <br />
<br />
I was desperate and panicking. The exterminators were hundreds of dollars. Carpenters charge hundreds and then some. Two weeks after Christmas- the most expensive holiday in the life of any parent - is NOT the time for this type of issue. <br />
Also, no one was immediately available to run over to rescue my family from the Squirrel Invasion.<br />
<br />
I knew it was time to ask for help so... I called <a href="https://my2muses.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-wild-one.html">The Wild One.</a><br />
<br />
Thankfully he called back.<br />
<br />
As soon as I heard his voice, I knew it would be ok.<br />
He assured me he would take a look at it and repair it enough to keep squirrels out until I can get someone to fix it permanently in the warmer weather.<br />
<br />
I was worried to tell the kids about The Wild One arriving, I was worried to tell Oz who was also on his way over. But, they all agreed...It was the right call because The Wild One can fix anything.<br />
<br />
When The Wild One arrived, I felt like my entire body exhaled.<br />
All of the fear I had about the squirrels coming into the house, the worry over what mold might be growing in the hole they made on my back porch, the snow piled on the roof and water damage, the stress over how to fix it, how much it would cost, all of it...just lifted.<br />
<br />
I hadn't realized how much stress I felt until I let it go.<br />
<br />
And so knee deep in snow, The Wild One dug out the ladder from under a snowpile in my yard and got on the roof to assess the situation.<br />
<br />
Then he began cutting into the ceiling on the porch and out came large squirrel nests. So much gross insulation, feathers, sticks and shit poured out onto him.<br />
<br />
He turned and looked at me, and said... I hope you will remember this the next time you decide to trash talk me.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfR4Y_xNudrxqr0QBlHp3oFC4k517YB9oJmU9DB7Q1st-q6Y9JVT8JGGcwSYB-YZqOn_RspKLLsVtMZwg3a-ZE20yP0GD447z6-Ml5_vXSmReQHe8Y-BMmCvbtzsVYpiPMF673jgeo_Rls/s1600/unnamed-12.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfR4Y_xNudrxqr0QBlHp3oFC4k517YB9oJmU9DB7Q1st-q6Y9JVT8JGGcwSYB-YZqOn_RspKLLsVtMZwg3a-ZE20yP0GD447z6-Ml5_vXSmReQHe8Y-BMmCvbtzsVYpiPMF673jgeo_Rls/s200/unnamed-12.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
<br />
<b>And there it was..</b><br />
<br />
Having to face reality. Nothing happens in a bubble.<br />
<br />
I have said things. Things that were true. Things I was angry and hurt about. Things that I would say to his face. Some of those things I chose to tell someone that knows him.<br />
<br />
Well...<br />
<br />
The old saying - <b>don't burn your bridges</b>- is true. You never know when you break up with someone when your paths might cross again. Or when you might need them to hunt squirrels for you.<br />
<br />
As he continued patching up the squirrels' destruction with sheets of metal, he mentioned having read my blog post.<br />
<br />
Uh-oh. <br />
<br />
Which one do you mean?? (because depending on the answer the conversation can go from discussion to shit-show in about a minute!)<br />
<br />
He says...<a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2017/11/the-art-of-wooing.html">The Wooing one. </a><br />
<br />
Oh! Ok good. Not confrontational at all. Right?!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisPmllRBUak04hIfTGgYMo0YMhoLbUmpUCLFUCsXBEc6E_paZpbOD0bR6K1Lep599dJu5M1dqHFyPB6d7JNuBG9fFdkylmFKCsBndsVA9ocFH4VU5lFaastMX1lKNtJ7i69QApvRqToKdz/s1600/unnamed-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
<b>Well... it definitely opened up an interesting discussion..and gave me a new perspective.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
The point of that post was that Wooing comes in different forms. He says he thinks that post needs an Amendment added because he felt like I glossed over Wooing that didn't involve flowers or jewelry and only briefly mentioned any other kind of Wooing.<br />
<br />
Actions and service are forms of Wooing that are very powerful and valuable, but he didn't feel like I understood that type of Wooing. When I asked him why he thinks Actions are a great way to Woo, he said he feels that acts of service are long lasting and unique to the needs of the individual. He said that the things he does to help with projects are longer lasting that flowers. And that he chooses to do those things to make me happy and make life easier.<br />
<br />
I really do value those efforts! I used to joke that doing House Projects was the #2 Reason I loved him. (Reason #1 isn't really printable)<br />
But, it wasn't a joke. Those projects made me feel safe and cared for. <br />
<br />
He didn't just clean out the garage, but also built a bike rack that helps keep it clean and organized on regular basis.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3TAXX4pJ2hG5GB3iqCyQLjfw8RfDvxdLz8ZUwjjQkSk-LMveedxCjaSzPTC31NY2h92dwnxvHYobbLTWgF3L2MRg1E4kq3f2ciCILXBUSvx3ekcQHmts8w8SDBdZ_SPgkCZu5qpRvtnd5/s1600/unnamed-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="778" data-original-width="750" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3TAXX4pJ2hG5GB3iqCyQLjfw8RfDvxdLz8ZUwjjQkSk-LMveedxCjaSzPTC31NY2h92dwnxvHYobbLTWgF3L2MRg1E4kq3f2ciCILXBUSvx3ekcQHmts8w8SDBdZ_SPgkCZu5qpRvtnd5/s200/unnamed-10.jpg" width="192" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgizigl9ZajfE-lHnwwv4fMOI49crrrZpSlvOYCoAIjG-M-S7jjKUdQKJ6-ir7Cv9t7vbr-icmoQ0abNytQhVkuwrUaebCy0mHX8iyz5KyKlEBvTuo9Q0yF9T2CwoXCBozA17R6iFaakAEs/s1600/unnamed-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="750" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgizigl9ZajfE-lHnwwv4fMOI49crrrZpSlvOYCoAIjG-M-S7jjKUdQKJ6-ir7Cv9t7vbr-icmoQ0abNytQhVkuwrUaebCy0mHX8iyz5KyKlEBvTuo9Q0yF9T2CwoXCBozA17R6iFaakAEs/s200/unnamed-9.jpg" width="177" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
There were times he cleaned my kids' bedrooms and built a bed for my daughter. It was an amazing difference!<br />
<attachment webkitattachmentpath="/Users/nikkocilfone/Desktop/unnamed-11.jpg"></attachment><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeQPzy_SAS1AtcblEAQmqSl7kIJ4Ui9v4cX6_YsrjQA4wv-pjfx5vfgLtDUTxGVtUEV1qfuwU-0kXNAsOvvqq47JWRwgHeOYo1E5bY3Pl8pwnp-s4fEMpgp0aAw4tZWI7HJb_wrjIilzU/s1600/unnamed-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="750" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeQPzy_SAS1AtcblEAQmqSl7kIJ4Ui9v4cX6_YsrjQA4wv-pjfx5vfgLtDUTxGVtUEV1qfuwU-0kXNAsOvvqq47JWRwgHeOYo1E5bY3Pl8pwnp-s4fEMpgp0aAw4tZWI7HJb_wrjIilzU/s200/unnamed-7.jpg" width="198" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisPmllRBUak04hIfTGgYMo0YMhoLbUmpUCLFUCsXBEc6E_paZpbOD0bR6K1Lep599dJu5M1dqHFyPB6d7JNuBG9fFdkylmFKCsBndsVA9ocFH4VU5lFaastMX1lKNtJ7i69QApvRqToKdz/s1600/unnamed-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="886" data-original-width="718" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisPmllRBUak04hIfTGgYMo0YMhoLbUmpUCLFUCsXBEc6E_paZpbOD0bR6K1Lep599dJu5M1dqHFyPB6d7JNuBG9fFdkylmFKCsBndsVA9ocFH4VU5lFaastMX1lKNtJ7i69QApvRqToKdz/s200/unnamed-11.jpg" width="161" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
He taught me <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2015/09/organizing-chaos.html">how to organize my kitchen cabinets and bedroom drawers and closets. </a> And keep my bill piles straight, something I really struggled with.<br />
<br />
<br />
And one of the times he Wooed me (and my neighbor) was when he chainsawed trees down in the backyard for me. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqTMEbYu8tieu3ILCYyjreU8JBA-ayzMuC0DrNKNIQTeRM4B71946nPGOjiIr7ggLn8Vp2vJO5hEvhTfoWNm2aqtTKiawex4V-JhNwzaID76zqjsjr7nNRpLausxt_uj8KPdGsd7Xsrm0/s1600/unnamed-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="750" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqTMEbYu8tieu3ILCYyjreU8JBA-ayzMuC0DrNKNIQTeRM4B71946nPGOjiIr7ggLn8Vp2vJO5hEvhTfoWNm2aqtTKiawex4V-JhNwzaID76zqjsjr7nNRpLausxt_uj8KPdGsd7Xsrm0/s320/unnamed-6.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
Over the years, he has fixed cars for me, my mom, and my nephew. He vented my dryer to the outside to make the house safer.<br />
He taught my boys how to put new tires and brakes on their bikes.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_R9TcsHBva-TVdEFe9DDbuTcSTytjTg-CY8gGskonOU9MP2Mtdw9UUioEh1dCWmYqzy3h2mDPWYSE6-sqbkGwDzKhIWERumkzPYT_ZbZeMy5dUIv4jiq22RQUdwVF7wVinyP6J1kSjTx/s1600/unnamed-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="579" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_R9TcsHBva-TVdEFe9DDbuTcSTytjTg-CY8gGskonOU9MP2Mtdw9UUioEh1dCWmYqzy3h2mDPWYSE6-sqbkGwDzKhIWERumkzPYT_ZbZeMy5dUIv4jiq22RQUdwVF7wVinyP6J1kSjTx/s200/unnamed-5.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
When I was first diagnosed with MS he drove me to doctor appointments and helped me navigate IVs and injections. <br />
<br />
So I guess when it comes to writing about Exes, it is not something that is always summed up in short sentence, or a funny paragraph.<br />
<br />
I am very fortunate that I also have Oz. <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2016/07/in-sickness-and-in-health-and-divorce.html">He helps with so many things for me and for the kids!</a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmED07VRE3_0ac4zcjneJqvNDamIRoPuS88-QdyaFVEwi4T9wv464D-cY0k-UIM3BTHiEEC8GMwKxNg1ChwbZbknMC4jE2NPM6ZQm43ESW9TaaqlTZPTXopMG_zCr5bDKDA4-03DMJzypk/s1600/IMG_5672.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmED07VRE3_0ac4zcjneJqvNDamIRoPuS88-QdyaFVEwi4T9wv464D-cY0k-UIM3BTHiEEC8GMwKxNg1ChwbZbknMC4jE2NPM6ZQm43ESW9TaaqlTZPTXopMG_zCr5bDKDA4-03DMJzypk/s400/IMG_5672.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Recently, it was VERY entertaining to see OZ and The Wild One team up to hunt squirrels together.<br />
The Wild One tried handle the squirrel issue with sling shots, pellet guns and tools. Oz tried to handle it with traps and peanut butter because he has had success with it in the past.<br />
<br />
But, it is about more than which method will eventually rid the attic of squirrels. <br />
<br />
It is about these two people that my life has intertwined with. Two people that are so important to me in very different ways. They are exact opposites in everything, including the ways they Woo.<br />
But, when it comes down to it, they are there for me in immeasurable ways. And I appreciate it SO much, even when it seems like I don't!<br />
<br />
I hope this story ends up with <i><b>less squirrels soon!</b></i>! To be continued...<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-64709847722544856202018-01-01T18:29:00.000-05:002018-01-01T18:59:56.763-05:00Meeting My Match<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOT_9k9RXgiymyXebvogxLC5ezqwWK5igP5zZ5Z5hIsk2IRm6puFbfH15apOJKDSZZvULg2UOM5KbALRClxyBUDcj7yklfm4MLhYf7ESls0CevCAsIk597jRCXR3TlN2yzDVFZHwtbY8wv/s1600/unnamed-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOT_9k9RXgiymyXebvogxLC5ezqwWK5igP5zZ5Z5hIsk2IRm6puFbfH15apOJKDSZZvULg2UOM5KbALRClxyBUDcj7yklfm4MLhYf7ESls0CevCAsIk597jRCXR3TlN2yzDVFZHwtbY8wv/s320/unnamed-2.jpg" width="240" /></a>When my dating profile needed a makeover, who did I ask for help? Ummm...My Exes and their girlfriends. 2017 was a Year of Lessons for me. And one thing I learned is that if I want to meet a King, I can't keep playing with the Jesters. So if I am going to get serious about meeting Mr. Right I need some reinforcements.<br />
<br />
I'm not a major fan of online dating, but it seems a <br />
likely way to meet potential Mr. Right(s), so I have dabbled with it over the past few years. I have met some doozies. One guy wore shoes that looked like gloves, but for your feet. Another had a sketchy Italian accent that came and went depending on his mood.<br />
<br />
One guy was HOT, like super duper H.O.T. He smelled so good. Like if Heaven smelled Sexy and you could bottle it, that would be his scent. He had a French accent and was tall.<br />
He said all the right things. Too right. I was skeptical. He was too well dressed and too damn sexy. He had to be up to something. The more I got to know him, I started to notice his smooth talk included some red flags. He started to use the language of one of my infamous Exes. He said he had "side jobs" that kept him busy. Hmmm...I knew from past experiences that "side job" is double talk for "side bitch." And then there was the excuse of "my phone broke." <br />
Classic Fuckboy line. So I stopped responding to texts and then his true colors flared.<br />
First, he was persistent, then angry, then insulting.<br />
Then he contacted me from one of his THREE other profiles!!! So Charlie, Pierre and Mr. Sincere<br />
were blocked. <br />
<br />
But, online dating isn't all things made of nightmares. A few years ago, when I had first tried online dating, I did meet one nice guy, R. We dated for while and he was awesome! The relationship didn't last, but our friendship has. He is someone that I trust with the most important people in my life - my children. Thankfully, he has become part of our village and often babysits for my Goofballs. They have come to really care about and respect him. We all value his opinion, which is always dead honest - even if you don't like it! So of course, when I was thinking of revamping my dating profile I asked for his advice. His girlfriend is a good friend of mine and I introduced them! Turns out I am an amazing matchmaker!! They're a great couple! Now I just need to show good judgment in finding my own match.<br />
<br />
As expected, R. was honest and said the picture I chose for my profile wasn't flattering, He said it didn't look like my face somehow.<br />
<br />
A professional Dating Advice Giver/Matchmaker had said the same thing. She has said it needed to appeal more to men. R. agreed. <br />
<br />
So, it seemed I maybe needed to show more cleavage. And somehow fix my face to look like my face.<br />
<br />
Basically, I needed a new photo.<br />
<br />
So...I spoke with an expert. My Ex-Husband, Oz. He's an Artist and a Photographer. Turns out, he and his Fiance had some time to spare and they helped me with a photo session.<br />
<br />
Nope...nothin' weird about that.<br />
<br />
Anyhoo - I figured over the past 15 years Oz has captured me at my Best and Worst. He's documented my happiest of times like my Wedding Day, me seeing my babies faces for the first time, me celebrating a decade of holidays. He's captured my saddest days of miscarriages and losing my father. He has caught the candid, off-guard moments that are truly me in my every day life. And he has been witness to my ugliest moments that I try to never let the world see and has thankfully not photographed them. <br />
<br />
So who better to try to help me get my face to look like my face?<br />
<br />
But, in the end it was actually Oz's fiancé Dorothy that took the picture that felt most like the Me that I see.<br />
<br />
She was gracious enough to help Oz with the photo shoot. And she helped with artistic suggestions like lighting, poses etc. <br />
<br />
We tried shots of me sitting, standing, smiling, not smiling. Far away, close up. It was quite the process. Nothing felt right.<br />
<br />
We even staged of few of me trying to make reading somehow look sexy since it's one of my only hobbies!!<br />
<br />
When the kids needed tending too, Oz went to help. Dorothy shot a few pictures that ended up being the best of the bunch. They had an angle that showed me looking my best.<br />
<br />
Oz captured a few great ones too, like me laughing! I don't know how many dates it would get me, but he voted for the laughing shot as my main profile picture. Not sure if the King that I plan to meet would click on that though! SO I had to overrule him.<br />
<br />
As we start 2018, I am reflecting on how very important my family is. And how friends have become family to me. Anyone that is truly the right Match for me will need to know and care about these people that have become my village. Might as well let them all help me find him!<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-32730658549630558302017-11-05T20:52:00.001-05:002018-06-17T18:14:02.967-04:00The Art of Wooing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlh3MuuMkgX4wTxsuRLaMXhSJosw7URZbAw-Tr9eH6dOAns1vKafF_sbxUS5dsrTksW-gyOUJO9a7sl_bW0D5-KPyNlV4w7aq_Lm-0kuVF0g9Nv9-EHgUN1zcN3_uryzsL4sbNXBdWoZHu/s1600/unnamed-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlh3MuuMkgX4wTxsuRLaMXhSJosw7URZbAw-Tr9eH6dOAns1vKafF_sbxUS5dsrTksW-gyOUJO9a7sl_bW0D5-KPyNlV4w7aq_Lm-0kuVF0g9Nv9-EHgUN1zcN3_uryzsL4sbNXBdWoZHu/s320/unnamed-1.jpg" width="240" /></a>Wooing. Everyone has a different definition of what counts as romance. So Wooing is not a "one type fits all" kind of thing. Over the years I have learned that romance is as unique as each person. It is often a reflection of personality and symbolic of the relationship itself.<br />
<br />
My first example of Wooing was from my parents. My Dad loved to surprise my mom with flowers, jewelry etc. He was a bit over the top to say the least! He never bought just one dozen of roses - nope, he would buy 4! Once, he arrived home with an entire pick up truck filled with mums! It was hilarious and crazy and SO him!! My mom however likes simple and would have been happy with a single hand-picked rose, so it it made it even funnier to see how their extremely opposite personalities interacted. It worked for them! During the 40 years of their marriage, he continued to Woo her!<br />
<br />
One boyfriend from my teen years was a Woo-er. His Wooing strategies ranged from showing off his BMX bike tricks to filling my room with roses and balloons to surprise me on my birthday. He wrote me cards and gave me his class ring (which he got in trouble for from his mom and she came to my house and took it back!) But, I was young. Though I liked the Wooing, he wasn't The One. Years later we reconnected and he still had his Wooing down to a science with flowers and cards and candy and stuffed animals to brighten my day and he loved to cook me meals and show off his culinary skills. It was fun! But, he was STILL not The One. So I moved on. Even more years later, after I was married and had children, he tried to reconnect with me and sent poems... from prison. Still wasn't The One.<br />
<br />
I've always loved Grand Gestures. Probably because I grew up watching General Hospital and too many 80s Rom-Coms. But, the Grand Gestures make the romance feel alive for me! I like the Wooing.<br />
<br />
My ex-husband was a Master of Grand Gestures and Wooing. When we were dating he brought flowers, painted pictures for me, wrote me a song, brought me to see the Lion King with front row seats and took me on an impromptu Road Trip to Disney. Romance was alive and fun! Even through almost a decade of marriage he marked every anniversary with flowers and jewelry or other fun and thoughtful surprises. The letters and cards were always my favorite. They meant the most in the end. Words of love.<br />
<br />
Dating since Divorce has been a whole new adventure in Wooing. <br />
<br />
I am not sure if it is because it is different decade now, or because I am older, or if it is that I am meeting people that are not my "typical type," but how I perceive romance has changed.<br />
<br />
At first, when I began dating again, I gravitated towards more of the same- traditional yet artsy men. Woo-ers. One taught my class a song and serenaded me. Swoon!!! <br />
Another one spent time getting to know my BFFs - the way to my heart!<br />
One showed up with Orchids and planned fun dates because he liked my energy!<br />
<br />
Then there were the Non-Traditional Woo-ers I've met along the way. That's when my idea of romance evolved. I used to think romance had to do only with pretty things like flowers, perfume, candles or teddy bears.<br />
<br />
But, I started to see that men Woo in all different ways. Some might build a shelf for my classroom, clean out my garage, put new brakes on my car, plunge a clogged toilet or sit in a hospital bed holding me for days.<br />
<br />
Others might make really great egg sandwiches. <br />
<br />
Then there are ones that try to Woo in a more... hands on way. One person I briefly dated offered to lick parts that never occurred to me might be lickable. I politely declined the offer, but kudos for going all in for the Wooing!<br />
<br />
One gave me a gift that was so ridiculous it made me realize how ridiculous our whole relationship had gotten.<br />
<br />
Wooing can really be symbolic of the type of relationship two people are developing. Maybe it's Traditional with dinners, flowers, candlelight. Maybe it's Extreme with bungee jumping and home makeover projects. Maybe it's Adventurous with Road Trips and exploring everything in all kinds of ways. Or maybe it is just fun and ridiculous and a distraction that you eventually outgrow. Or maybe it is a mix of it all and you grow old together enjoying life.<br />
<br />
"In the end, the love you take ~ is equal to the love you make."<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-51301182412979646302017-10-30T13:16:00.000-04:002017-10-30T13:16:30.665-04:00Happiness Is Like A Brick <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3473IURzk24_nLkxRVeaBdxA5k_ySYXZY2Vpih42HF14R6ltHRfX51y3B9AIHsrp5t51ItQ7ZcnBgQq0Fwq76-sBLfdwgZ-TFYOXB6YATBdZ9aGIFNXfMUmQEyZrAkzkqFc6wC6usqNl/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="557" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3473IURzk24_nLkxRVeaBdxA5k_ySYXZY2Vpih42HF14R6ltHRfX51y3B9AIHsrp5t51ItQ7ZcnBgQq0Fwq76-sBLfdwgZ-TFYOXB6YATBdZ9aGIFNXfMUmQEyZrAkzkqFc6wC6usqNl/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="272" /></a>According to my BFF/Guru, happiness is like a brick. One evening at Happy Hour, we talked about how the flat part of the brick is like the shit pile of real life and happiness is the teeny-tiny space of stuff holding it together. But, that didn't sound NEARLY as inspirational as we needed it to be. So, over wine and apps, we had a further discussion about how when you are used to the highs and lows of life's ups and downs, you can easily get so desensitized to the chaos and noise. When it is finally quiet you don't know what to do. Happiness can be like a brick because life can be flat for a while before getting to the little blips in between that brings excitement. In the content moments of life there can be confusion. Quiet can quickly be perceived as boring. But, when you let yourself sit, and take in the quiet you start to realize it is actually contentment and that quiet life can be quite enjoyable. When you start to take out the negative energy of toxic people and start to say no to things that used to feel like obligations, you start to have time to just BE. Day to day life can feel monotonous, routine can seem like it's stifling- it can seem flat...until you start to see the possibility it brings. When life is predictable you can be in a better place to make decisions. When you are not constantly in survival or crisis mode, you can calmly assess situations and discern which path to take. That brings a whole new level of opportunities. You can start choose a new hobby, read a new book, visit a new place, meet new people, have new relationships, truly explore all of your options. Quiet brings time to discern. And every once in a while on the path there is a blip of excitement. If you keep going long enough you will get to it, you will. Every brick ends and a new one begins. Happiness is there, in the small spaces in between. In what holds it all together. Sometimes you just have to get through the shit piles to get to it.<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-8216542918599339902017-10-16T11:42:00.001-04:002017-11-29T21:37:02.872-05:00Officially Love~Not Just a Crock of Shit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCWkqAYwtDFx8BHtlzGy_UTaN1Ebi5TnbBObXEDKeziKsToOpsQ4fXQEQbbYZOwlzlcK0owci67_lJ77FKkEDAgUEpmbvxSr82sxRx90PEn395bOapnGLy2zVzrr4doRKe7YSVjpEfs0c/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="566" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCWkqAYwtDFx8BHtlzGy_UTaN1Ebi5TnbBObXEDKeziKsToOpsQ4fXQEQbbYZOwlzlcK0owci67_lJ77FKkEDAgUEpmbvxSr82sxRx90PEn395bOapnGLy2zVzrr4doRKe7YSVjpEfs0c/s200/unnamed.jpg" width="190" /></a>I recently Officiated my cousin's wedding ceremony. It took an online license and some soul searching, but I pulled it together. I learned a lot about love along the way. Last winter, when my cousin first asked me about being the Officiant, I was surprised and so honored!<br />
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We got started with planning right away and realized it took about 5 minutes for me to be ordained online. I had the background experience of working in ministry related job for many years before I became a teacher. I had helped plan weddings, funerals and Sunday services. I just had never actually performed the ceremonies before.<br />
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After the "ordination" there wasn't much to do until closer to the wedding.<br />
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Then, this summer I began to think about the ceremony and interview the Bride and Groom about their love story in preparation for the Big Day.<br />
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As the wedding got closer I took a look online to be sure I had followed all the correct formats in writing the ceremony.<br />
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It went something like this...<br />
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Welcome guests...ok check<br />
Intention...state intention of Bride and Groom to get married...ok check<br />
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All good so far...I've totally got this!<br />
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Reflection...give a short, personal reflection on love and marriage...<br />
OH Shit!<br />
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That's where I hit a major roadblock. Or maybe it was writer's block? Or a WALL?...whatever it was...was not good.<br />
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Love?! Marriage?!!<br />
What could I possibly say about that?? I was coming out of Round 15 in the cycle of on and off again relationship with a lying cheater.<br />
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But, I thought I would give it a shot.<br />
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Well...<br />
I started with thinking...Love and marriage are great. Hope for a happily ever after but, be smart and have your own bank account and your name on everything. Be prepared for anything because people can turn out to be lying assholes that will rip your heart out.<br />
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Ummm...<br />
this wasn't going as planned.<br />
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I needed to STOP and find inspiration...FAST!<br />
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I started to reflect...What do I believe about love other than it is a crock of shit?<br />
There must be something...<br />
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Then it hit me...I HAVE known love.<br />
I was raised by a couple that truly loved each other.<br />
My parents!<br />
Ok, I was on a good track now. My father was an amazing man and he loved my mother like she was the <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1800364491037476198#editor/target=post;postID=3156450387183644326;onPublishedMenu=template;onClosedMenu=template;postNum=28;src=postname">Queen of his Universe</a>. And she loved him. My Dad always said, "You stay for love." <br />
40 years of ups and downs and no matter what ~ they loved each other.<br />
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Once I got on a roll thinking, I realized I have been loved like that too. I was married to an amazing man. I knew what it felt like to have someone love me like I was their world. I thought about how I felt on my wedding day. That feeling that love can fix it all. THAT was good. Believing that love exists, that it can bind 2 people forever. It CAN happen. Maybe our marriage ended in divorce and I have had some shitty experiences since then, but LOVE still binds our amazing little family. We created that, we nurture that.<br />
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Next, I thought about my Aunt and Uncle -the Bride's Parents. YES!! They have True Love! They met when they were 6!! For God's sake -of course!!! Love has kept them together through all these years.<br />
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I was in such a freaking good place at this point. For a couple days I started interviewing random strangers and asking how they found love. What was the secret of their marriage? I used to do this on regular basis when I was in college. I'd forgotten how many great love stories there are out in the world.<br />
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And of course...the story of the Bride and Groom turned out to be the best love story for their Big Day.<br />
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And so the Reflection went like this...<br />
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We are here today because of Love. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have all heard of love at first sight. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some believe it exists, some do not.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And some people </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">like E and A</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">cannot agree on who saw the other first </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that fateful day 8 years ago </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">when they met on the beach. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-6768f758-22d9-8bc3-5105-efb7ccee4e81" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Did he see her first as she believes? </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Or did she him first as he believes?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That remains a mystery…</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">but they do in fact agree that the first look they exchanged started it all!</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When A approached E and asked her out, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">she decided to take a risk. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She said yes </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and the rest as they say is history. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That yes, that risk </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">brings us here 8 years later. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> When I asked A what he loves about E, he had so many fantastic things to say. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But, one thing he said stands out most</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He said</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She loves me with all of my stuff.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">THAT is real love. Not just accepting what someone brings to the relationship, not loving someone in spite of it, but loving them BECAUSE of it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">THAT is Unconditional love.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Romantic movies and songs always focus on meeting someone and falling in love. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But, TRUE love is in the the day to day.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is “the experience of loving for the long haul.”</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">THAT is the kind of love that A and E share for one another. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Their love started from a day at the beach and spanned long distances.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">As they built a foundation for their relationship, changed locations, and created a Home ...</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They strengthened their unconditional love.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They’ve decided to declare that love and make a commitment to one another today. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We are here to celebrate that commitment with them.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.999999999999998pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I was reminded that True Love does exist. It is all around us, if we just look for it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then... my Ex-Husband Oz helped me practice the ceremony until it was just right. Because that is LOVE in it's own dysFUNctional way!</span></div>
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-22665838333905519722017-08-11T17:33:00.001-04:002017-08-11T19:40:48.492-04:00Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJ5QZL6BGsbXwPIY2wM2p_hCV-Bf5ib5Y-Cu-jE1FWCkpwhJ9jZKGPcLVd-QonRgDpJkQc3_9UaUEKQijcyE3UEbXtbxgrRt0oRx6XjBFTlOj09MB2PH_rfXIgomES-QRzsKBFgLuOA-L/s1600/Image.ig+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJ5QZL6BGsbXwPIY2wM2p_hCV-Bf5ib5Y-Cu-jE1FWCkpwhJ9jZKGPcLVd-QonRgDpJkQc3_9UaUEKQijcyE3UEbXtbxgrRt0oRx6XjBFTlOj09MB2PH_rfXIgomES-QRzsKBFgLuOA-L/s200/Image.ig+2.png" width="200" /></a></div>
Home...is it a place or a feeling or a person? For families of Divorce, it can be a very confusing word. When Oz and I fell apart, I clung to the idea that my children needed a home. I needed to provide a physical place of shelter for people to live. Having been a Stay at Home Mom (SAHM) for the 6 years previous to The Divorce, the weight of that responsibility felt overwhelming. Where would I work? How would we live? WHERE would we live? But, it all fell into place and I quickly got a job and kept my house. <br />
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During the divorce proceedings I was adamant that my children have a Home Base and not be shuffled around like nomads. We came to an agreement that the house the children and I lived in would be Home Base. Oz visited them here in the place they lived. He would take them for awhile and return them here.<br />
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I lived here with them. But, it didn't feel like HOME to me. It was a place in which we each parented people on our days. It was a place for the children and I to eat and sleep. The routines stayed the same and the children had stability. Life moved along with days turning to months and eventually years.<br />
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At one point, I woke up and realized we needed to make the <i>house into a home again</i>. I had to start feeling like I lived there with my family even though that image had now changed from what I had thought my life would be. I always pictured Home to have a mother and a father living together in it. I had to revision!<br />
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So, I started clearing out junk. Then, I decorated a bit more. Repainted, reorganized. Eventually, it started to feel like I was Home. We had dinners at the table, we had family and friends over. We stopped just existing in the house we slept in. We started to live in a Home again.<br />
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During this process, Oz set up his new home. His Emerald Palace was a city apartment. Different than our tiny house. New and shiny to the kids. They liked to go visit "Daddy's house." They had a tent set up for a long time that they shared when they slept there. They thought it was so cool! The blinds are floor to ceiling and a remote controls them. Very cool!<br />
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For a long while, this worked. The children and I continued developing a sense of Home in the house we lived in. Oz visited. The children visited Oz's "place" as they would often call it.<br />
<br />
Over time, Oz met Dorothy. Slowly, she was introduced to the children. Introduced to me.<br />
She would stop in to see the kids and Oz at his place or they might meet out for part of his days with the kids. After a long while, she started to spend days with all of them on most of their visits. Then days turned into a night here or there. Then a short vacation for all of them together. Eventually, she moved in to Oz's place. She visited the Home the children and I live in more often. She spent time here with them.<br />
<br />
Dorothy became part of Oz's life, part of my children's lives and part of my life over the past 3 years.<br />
<br />
This Spring, Oz and Dorothy got engaged and my children started referring to Oz's place as "our Home with Daddy and Dorothy" or they would say "we are going to our home with Daddy now."<br />
The language began changing. The idea of HOME began to evolve.<br />
<br />
I credit Dorothy with this seamless transition into my children's lives and hearts. She stood back and let them get to know her. She earned their respect. She earned mine. She didn't force any of us to like her. She didn't try to convince us. She just lived as who she is and soon we all realized how impossible it would be to NOT like her (even when I might have tried.)<br />
<br />
She slowly got to know the kids, what they like, what they are interested in and what they care about. <br />
<br />
She shares in their love of legos and quickly became the boys Go To Person for Lego projects. She set up a cool lego building station at their house. She sifted through the zillions of lego pieces thrown around our play room and the organized them into bags and matched them with instructions and helped them build.<br />
<br />
She shows joy for my daughter's love of American Girl Dolls. She dug out her own AG doll, Molly from her childhood days and enthusiastically plays with Isabella. They make necklaces and bracelets from beads and pasta, they sew pillows, they created their own line of lip balm. <br />
<br />
The children enjoy their time at their Home with Daddy and Dorothy largely in part because Dorothy goes out of her way to make them feel special. FEELing at Home is an important part of BEing at home.<br />
<br />
One afternoon, they came back from Oz's place, grumbling because Dorothy had gone out for an hour without them. Isabella was very grumpy about it. When I asked her why, she told me that Dorothy said she was going to the mall to return something and would be right back. But it took AN HOUR! I reminded the children that the mall was a 20 minute drive in each direction. Which means Dorothy had to be RUNNING through the Mall to make it back to them as quickly as she did and they should give her a break. Bella was not convinced. <br />
<br />
One of my sons (Vincenzo) told me that Bella sat by her dollhouse waiting for Dorothy for nearly the entire time, but finally gave up and took a nap. Apparently, when Dorothy returned she offered to play dolls with Bella. But, Bella told her no. She wasn't going to play with her because she was angry still. (OMG I was horrified to hear the bratty tale!)<br />
<br />
I asked him why they were so upset about her going out. He said it just wasn't fun without her. He said they needed her there because she always comes up with great things to do. <br />
I reminded all 3 of the children that once in a while adults need a break too. And it was ONE HOUR!!! Seriously people!!<br />
<br />
This summer, they all went on a long vacation together. When Oz and Dorothy returned the kids after 9 days and several hours stuck in traffic- I asked if they were tired. Dorothy looked exhausted. They all did. But, she very graciously said no and that they'd had a fantastic vacation. She told me all of the great behaviors the kids showed to each other and to her family. I was so proud and so relieved. <br />
<br />
To hear her talk proudly about the children made an incredible impact on me.<br />
<br />
It had been my worst nightmare when I got divorced, to think that another woman would come into my children's lives and be the abusive and scary, EVIL Stepmother that Disney spends millions of dollars to create stories about. I feared they would never feel like a family again and that they would be pushed out of their father's life by a faceless, nameless person.<br />
<br />
To my great joy, I have discovered how blessed our family is to have Dorothy in it.<br />
HOME has a new meaning for my children now. Instead of being pushed out, they were brought in.<br />
They are creating new traditions, setting up an additional Home Base and enjoying being cared for by their now larger village of loving and supportive people.<br />
<br />
When they returned from vacation they told me that they have new grandparents now, Dorothy's parents. They were so well cared for and loved by her family. The felt at Home. This was their second summer trip with them and they made traditions that they are already looking forward to for next year!<br />
<br />
This week I was thinking about how it takes a village to create a sense of Home...<br />
The children and I have been cleaning rooms and closets and organizing etc.<br />
I finished Isabella's room, but the boys told me not to worry about doing their room because Dorothy would do it. They said she likes to organize and donate things!<br />
<br />
That really made me realize that HOME is about the people in our lives. My children are comfortable in our Home and they know that Oz and Dorothy are comfortable here too. They know that we all help each other out. They thought nothing of the fact Dorothy would come over and clean their room. They were right too! She did come over and organized the closet and drawers neater than ever before. So maybe that comfort and acceptance and inclusion is what makes it FEEL like Home?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
Five years ago I NEVER would have pictured feeling thankful that my children have another woman in their lives in a parenting role. I also would not have believed that I would have that woman visit my house on a regular basis and feel comfortable with her doing dishes and helping with laundry and cleaning out the boys' closet and drawers. <br />
<br />
With anyone else I would have felt self-conscious or judged because I can't always keep up with the messes and chores and organizing. I would have worried that someone thought I was not capable or not a good mom. But, with Dorothy she has become part of the family. She has created an extension of Home for my children. So I have realized it is ok to accept help and to let someone with the energy and enthusiasm and love for my children to give a hand when it is needed. <br />
<br />
Maybe Home doesn't have to be a certain person, place or feeling? Maybe it's what you make it?<br />
<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-71634243173548583172017-02-15T16:48:00.003-05:002017-02-19T23:08:24.757-05:00Finding Balance<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNRjjXgLYyxPCm-_rQaTpogcvEKsyOgcsvDRkvXVfgNyiJyELZPKmkZvYr3dPTBL1L5I_5p1jbSU8tbhMyuZNKG8u0gRT1JPl05UBwr1uov8eyUTyNa2gSbiyE0ZcUDHpfFH5kkQ_cEd0/s1600/IMG_3049+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNRjjXgLYyxPCm-_rQaTpogcvEKsyOgcsvDRkvXVfgNyiJyELZPKmkZvYr3dPTBL1L5I_5p1jbSU8tbhMyuZNKG8u0gRT1JPl05UBwr1uov8eyUTyNa2gSbiyE0ZcUDHpfFH5kkQ_cEd0/s200/IMG_3049+%25281%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a>I've learned a lot this year <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2016/03/something-else.html">since being diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS)</a> and most of it has led me to realize... I still have a lot to learn. First thing I figured out ~ I was in denial. Then, I learned I had to make a lot of decisions that I was not equipped for and that I really didn't feel like dealing with. So denial was easier. But, there came a point where I had to at the bare minimum seek out medical advice because the MS was causing Optic Neuritis (blurry vision) and I kind of needed to see. So I went to a highly recommended MS Specialist in the area. I also made an appointment with a Naturopath that was recommended to me. At that point, I was confused and not really wanting to hear ANYTHING about MS. Just felt like I should make appointments because it seemed like the thing to do.<br />
<br />
Last year, when this all began, <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/2015/11/on-this-day.html">Oz</a> and <a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/search?q=wild+one">The Wild One </a>heard I was going to get advice from a Naturopath and they both freaked out and begged me not to go to a "witch doctor." They really, really wanted me to see a traditional doctor and get real medicine and be treated and be fine. Since they could not be more opposite from each other I was pretty shocked that they were on the same page. So I took their advice, along with the advice of medical professionals that said I should go traditional. And I did.<br />
<br />
But, in the back of mind I thought ~ I will probably go with the Naturopath's advice too ~ because there is nothing that motivates me to dig my heels in like a man (or 2) telling me not to.<br />
So at that point I knew I would pursue ALL avenues of treatments.<br />
<br />
I tried not to talk to many people about MS at first. Everyone had a story. Scary, awful, stories. Hopeful, uplifting stories. But too many stories. Too much info, too many choices, too much.<br />
<br />
So I hid myself in a cocoon. I went traditional and started taking injectable meds.<br />
It had it's pros and cons. <br />
<br />
In the meantime, I also pursued Natural treatments. <br />
For about 9 months I took the injectable meds AND went for colonics, started to be more aware of the diet I ate. Apparently, gluten, sugar and dairy aggravate autoimmune disease like nobody's business!<br />
I took supplements and protein shakes.<br />
<br />
Then just lived my day to day life.<br />
I was basically unaffected for months. <br />
<br />
But, like clockwork every 4.5 months the relapses were happening. Despite being on the traditional meds. Despite any dietary changes I was making, etc.<br />
<br />
One day around the 4.5 month mark the vision in one eye just gets blurry. Then it causes a fogginess in my head and dizziness starts. It's full on flare up within a day and the only treatment to settle it down is a 5 day course of high dose IV steroids. They usually work. Sometime I have to follow up with a couple weeks of oral steroids too. Then it returns to normal again.<br />
<br />
Over the summer I had a severe allergic reaction to the injectable meds I had been taking. Apparently it happens. It was scary as hell!! And the other recommend meds sounded awful and the side effects sounded awful. So I decided to hold off on choosing new traditional daily meds.<br />
<br />
I immediately had a flare up after having to stop the med. 4.5 months almost to the day. The eyes again. More steroids.<br />
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Recovered and back to regular life in couple weeks time.<br />
<br />
I decided at that point , around September, to go full force into the Natural Treatment and see what I can do without traditional meds for awhile.<br />
<br />
SO I began I stricter diet of trying to really stay away from the gluten, sugar, diary, yeast, etc. Autoimmune Paleo. Basically fruit, veggies, and lean protein.<br />
I continued with supplements of every single thing that you can imagine might help. Vitamins, minerals, probiotics, etc, etc.<br />
I started weekly acupuncture and hypnosis.<br />
It was life changing!<br />
<br />
The combination of the foods calming my nervous system and the meditation and hypnosis calming my brain have led to more energy, more conviction in what is right for my life and a side effect of it all had been some weight loss.<br />
I have felt great!!<br />
<br />
However, just like clockwork at the 4.5 month mark the flare up started and the vision went blurry again about 2 weeks ago. UGH!<br />
<br />
So I for the 4th time this year, I started the IV med treatment. I am so thankful there is treatment.<br />
The treatments get done at home. A nurse comes and hooks up the IV for me and then daily I drip the meds myself.<br />
<br />
The first few times it happened it was terrifying. I didn't know what I was doing. It was nerve-wrecking trying to figure out how to administer the meds and manage the side effects steroids. The Wild One was here for the other 3 times this year and walked me through it and helped me get the meds started up and the IVs out at the end.<br />
<br />
But, this treatment cycle I was on my own.<br />
And it was ok!<br />
I did it!! I hooked it all up. I unhooked it all.<br />
I didn't need help, I didn't need to make any calls for advice.<br />
The IV was not too bad to rip out at the end either.<br />
<br />
But, I was worried to miss work and I had Super Hulk Steroid strength as a side effect of the meds. So I over-did it.<br />
I went to work and exhausted myself. Then I couldn't sleep so I cleaned linen closets and my bedroom and then the kids bedrooms. This house hadn't been so organized in 11 years!<br />
<br />
Then I started cooking. I made meal after meal until our bellies, fridge and freezer were overfull.<br />
<br />
And then I crashed.<br />
<br />
And not surprisingly the treatment didn't work. The symptoms got worse.<br />
<br />
So I had to start another 5 day course of IV meds this week.<br />
Oh shit! I was not expecting that.<br />
<br />
So this time I have had to rest. Really rest. NO work, NO major housework.<br />
<br />
It didn't helped that weather delayed the nurse getting here.<br />
Then it took 2 nurses ~ 10 attempts to start an IV. WTF?!!!!<br />
The only place left to get one in was the crease near my elbow.<br />
So it's sort of forced me to have to rest it.Which had turned out to be a good thing. Forcing me to sit still a bit more because I can't lift much.<br />
<br />
I have learned many lessons lately. And these last couple of weeks have given me time to reflect..<br />
<br />
ONE- I am NOT sick. I am not a condition or a disease. I have a diagnosis for symptoms that sometimes act up.<br />
<br />
TWO- It is about balance. Traditional medicine is not bad, I just have to find the right combination of meds and trust the doctor I have chosen to be my advocate. I really need to put effort into researching and get moving on a decision for the long term soon.<br />
<br />
THREE- Natural Medicine is ESSENTIAL for me. Autoimmune Diet is amazing and makes me feel good. My stomach is not bloated, my energy is up, my body feels good even when my eye is blurry.<br />
I notice the foggy feeling appears worse when I eat sugar or dairy. I notice I feel better when I drink a ton of water and eat things that calm my body.<br />
<br />
FOUR- Cooking is fun! I actually like it. WHO KNEW?!!<br />
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FIVE- Grocery shopping does not have to be my nightmare. I can pick fun, colorful, yummy foods.The staff at the grocery stores are helpful and great about telling me how to cook the things I buy. Love it!<br />
<br />
SIX- Hypnosis and meditation are changing my life! I can see the things I want for my future now. And the things I do not want anymore. Toxic people and habits are are ok to leave and it feels good to start over.<br />
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SEVEN- an organized house feels good.<br />
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EIGHT-Air diffusers and essential oils are my new favorite thing!<br />
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NINE- massages, acupuncture and reflexology are miracles!<br />
<br />
TEN- my family and friends are the best support system I could ever ask for.<br />
I have received so much love and help with the kids and company and check ins.<br />
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I am stronger than I have been been in a long time.<br />
<br />
An MS diagnosis does not make me weak. <br />
<br />
It certainly motivates me to seek more education about living well. It also helps me feel inspired to be my best self.<br />
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Fruits, vegetables, steroids, all of it ~ leading me to where I need to be going.<br />
Grateful there are options!<br />
Grateful that today was the last day of the IV and it's out!<br />
Back to regular life tomorrow hopefully!<br />
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I have met some great people that have shared their stories about Autoimmune Healing.<br />
So glad I am finally in a place where I can hear those stories and not feel overwhelmed.<br />
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I am glad I got my head out of my ass and started to realize there is a whole world of information out there.<br />
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I don't need to take it all in at once or ever, but I am glad it is available. Learning is good!<br />
Finding my balance in life...yet another chapter.<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-73128574391533687572017-02-12T19:23:00.000-05:002017-09-15T20:05:51.744-04:00The Nothings<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4BW22kSvvU-pdOLUps7FwL0_Yu52-bkXRD-HHjtMR67ZzNK4ArJkIFdSSZmHM1TQ-6Oq57t_qbCdJKpc3Z9Aa0b9EePaDnEx5HHN0LQP7q_CnzP1thfNQw6oc-cIXAaZDTWmF3kWLAGY/s1600/IMG_1042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4BW22kSvvU-pdOLUps7FwL0_Yu52-bkXRD-HHjtMR67ZzNK4ArJkIFdSSZmHM1TQ-6Oq57t_qbCdJKpc3Z9Aa0b9EePaDnEx5HHN0LQP7q_CnzP1thfNQw6oc-cIXAaZDTWmF3kWLAGY/s200/IMG_1042.jpg" width="150" /></a>When you willing participate in a dead end relationship, you know for certain one thing...it will eventually end. When you are not the Wife, the Baby Mama or on the track to building a future with someone it is inevitable. It may take 2.5 years, but eventually it ends. Even if you have a great time together and laugh more than you ever have with anyone, even if your lives become intertwined and your families create bonds. Even if you love his children and yours love him. Even if you love his father and he helps take care of you and your children. Even if you spend nearly all of your free time together. If you are not on the same path, it is essentially a Nothing relationship.<br />
<br />
A Nothing relationship can be mutually beneficial in many ways. Many ways. Some ways are practical, company, comfort, distractions, fun, entertainment. Some ways are helpful like setting up better filing systems and taking care of cleaning and repair projects around the house. Having a different perspective on things, being with someone with a different kind of life experience can really teach you new things.<br />
<br />
But, at some point The Nothings hit a crossroads. They have to decide to stay together or venture off independently. And sometimes they venture off and try to find a better fit. But, then they get back together. Sometimes this happens...oh 8 -10 times in 2 years. Each time much like the first. Starts off great in the first few weeks. Missing each other makes the appreciation stronger. The attraction and chemistry is stronger than ever. <br />
<br />
So the pattern continues and The Nothings try to build a relationship that works. It does for awhile. Still knowing this is not the person we will be with in the future. It is not the right fit, not the person I want to raise children with. But in the meantime, I WAS raising children with him. My children are influenced by him. My son dresses up for him for career day. My daughter is attached. His son is one of my most favorite children on the planet and his enthusiasm and love of music is contagious!! His daughter is smart and strong and teaches me and my children that working hard and being independent is valuable! His youngest child is a snuggle bug impossible not to love.<br />
<br />
And yet...The Nothings return to the place of deciding. What's next? We went season by season. Sledding in the winter, biking in the spring and summer, distractions. Cleaning projects, road trips, binging tv shows, grocery shopping, day to to life.<br />
<br />
Eventually it came to the end of the road. There was Nothing left but negotiating the furniture that would stay or go. Kitchen and living room tables stay, outdoor equipment goes. <br />
<br />
Starting over again. Not as difficult as Divorce because my children, my house, my job are all my own this time around. But, harder in some ways. That chemistry connection was off the charts and tied us to The Nothingness for a long time. It is difficult to let go of.<br />
<br />
Not difficult to let go of...the wondering, the what ifs, the extra laundry, the extra stress. The Nothingness.<br />
<br />
So yesterday, after a 2 month separation, the last of the Nothingness went out. The final stuff is removed from the garage. The extra bed and stuff in storage began to feel like a scene from the Tell Tale Heart (according to Oz.) It was like the guy in the POE poem that felt like he heard a beating heart and started ripping up floor boards and it was just a watch. The extra stuff felt like that this week. I needed it out. Time enough had passed. When it went out the door it felt like a relief. I could breath again.<br />
<br />
However, the true wisdom came from my children. When I told them back in December about the break up and the moving out of things in our house, they said, "Ok."<br />
<br />
Umm...that's it??<br />
<br />
Should not have asked...<br />
<br />
One of my sons said, "I didn't like how he talked to you. He was grumpy and you are happy. You need happy."<br />
<br />
My beautiful, strong Baby Doll said, "It wasn't a good relationship anyway."<br />
<br />
And so that summed it up. I can NEVER go back to Nothingness. They are always watching, listening and learning.<br />
<br />
I am stronger than I have felt in a long time. My babies give me the strength to want more, to be better. <br />
I am ready for SOMETHING, something real. Something meaningful.<br />
I am awake now and when I look around I realize I have IT. I have this beautiful family. I have these people that love me, that I love.<br />
I have my mom, my friends. They have been my pillars of support in all of this.<br />
I have my aunts and cousins that are just surrounding me with love.<br />
It felt good to have closure, to say no regrets, no hard feelings. Just it is what it is. It's all ok.<br />
And now onto the next chapter. <br />
That's the great thing about life.<br />
There is always another chapter unfolding...<br />
<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1800364491037476198.post-31188276146617766102016-11-02T09:11:00.000-04:002017-09-15T20:08:08.854-04:00Guy Stuff<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVMHzmCEJw5JUiYRck6lKyhg0j5C5NrcaiLhfqJvGyZaGdbdpJx8o32USLrkp3JnFZMHe7mdfc1vODIH-G-J7s_WCTO209Yzd8CVLSfbpjZxuc2nUcd7nHuR5Nw-cRBxg8qiqIY4tcAah/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVMHzmCEJw5JUiYRck6lKyhg0j5C5NrcaiLhfqJvGyZaGdbdpJx8o32USLrkp3JnFZMHe7mdfc1vODIH-G-J7s_WCTO209Yzd8CVLSfbpjZxuc2nUcd7nHuR5Nw-cRBxg8qiqIY4tcAah/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="304" /></a>Growing up my Dad and my Poppy always took care of all the fixing and lifting and "guy stuff." Now that they aren't around, I realize my children and I have lots to learn! As a single mom raising 3 "not so little anymore" children, I have started to think about how I did a lot of watching and not a lot of doing for many years when it came to house projects, home repairs, and car maintenance. My Dad took care of basically everything!<br />
<br />
I remember being about 5 years old and going with him on Sundays to my Gram and Poppy's house to watch him work on cars. Once in awhile I handed him tools and stuff, but I didn't really learn how to take care of the problems myself. Now I really wish I paid more attention to the oil changes and tires fixes, etc.<br />
<br />
As I got older I became so accustomed to my Dad or Poppy doing the major fixes around the house that it never occurred to me that I needed to learn it for myself. Even when I got married, my Dad and my ex-father-in-law would take care of repairs at the house for me and Oz. We called one of them for whatever came up - tiles needing caulking, mold in the bathroom, broken furnace, toilet clogs. ETC!<br />
<br />
Over the years, Poppy died, then I got divorced, then my Dad died. The next thing I know I am a homeowner without the know how.<br />
<br />
I have been very fortunate lately that the Wild One helps me with House Projects. <br />
As time has gone on, I find that my kids are very interested in everything he does when he is working on projects. Vincenzo has said more than once that "he's better to watch than TV."<br />
<br />
<a href="http://my2muses.blogspot.com/search?q=the+wild+one">The Wild One </a>and his Dad "Mr. Fix It" helped the kids repair their bikes over the summer. They learned how to put new tire tubes on, fix chains, check brakes, and adjusts seats. They also got to watch the Wild One and Mr. Fix It work on a go-cart! My boys were very interested in it all! <br />
<br />
And not surprisingly my daughter was right there in the mix, taking mental notes, and turning out to the be one of the strongest helpers. She also complains the least about the work! She quickly figured out that the wrenches had numbers and went in order by size. She was great at finding them and then putting them away again. She was also very excited to be in charge of holding the drill when cup holders got put on the bikes!<br />
<br />
Watching the kids so excited to learn new things reminded me of being little and watching my Dad and Poppy in that garage so many year ago. How much fun I had when they let me help. How special it felt to hang out with them and how strong I thought they were! I loved the smell of the garage and the car oil. I loved how my Dad and Poppy both had the strongest biceps of anyone I knew. My Dad would let me hang on his arm to do chin ups. It cracked me up that he could lift me up like that. They would argue and yell at each other almost the entire time, but you could tell they enjoyed working together on a project.<br />
<br />
My kids felt that same feeling the day they got to help with "guy stuff." It is not that I could not have done it. Women fix bikes and go carts. I could have looked it up online, watched a You Tube video and fumbled my way through it. Of course. But, there is such a difference to learn from someone that KNOWS what they are doing. That hands on experience for the kids was priceless! To be able to touch grease, use tools, and smell the gas from a motor creates a memory. <br />
<br />
They still remember my Dad pretty clearly. The boy especially got to spend time helping him with small projects when he was still healthy. They got to see him in his glory days!<br />
As he got sick, he was home more and spent tons of quality time with the kids. When he wasn't up for major projects, he still kept the kids busy and Isabella learned to bake cookies with him and make smoothies.<br />
<br />
It has been a learning curve for sure over the last 4 years of being on my own. In survival mode for the first 3 years, I just thought about how I needed to work and get food on the table for the kids and keep the bills paid. But, in the last year I have found that the crisis fog has lifted and our new normal is not half bad. We have great people in our lives, my kids are happy and for the most part I hold things together pretty well. I have been able to move into the next mode now that the I have emerged past the crisis phase. I can see family vacations being possible again and the house feels more manageable. We ride bikes together. We enjoy life. <br />
<br />
But, I won't say I have done it without help. It felt good to sit in the sun on that warm, summer afternoon and just enjoy the experience of the kids learning to do new things.<br />
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<br />CenzLuBellsMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03647624088473633945noreply@blogger.com0