Mr. Man Bun

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.

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?

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!!

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.

 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.

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!"

My sons cannot stand it. They think we are awful.  But, Bella, the dog and I wait at the window with no shame!

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?

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?

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.

THAT Moment

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. 

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. 

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.

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. 

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. 

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. 

The suspense built.  

 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.

Thursday It felt like closing would be inevitable and we still had 4 chapters left.  16 pages! 

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!   

And I knew.  It was THAT moment. My students got 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. 

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.

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.

Cup of Perspective

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Happy New Year!

Isn't She Lovely?

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.

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.

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.

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.

That's when it hit me...SHE IS NOT A BABY ANYMORE!

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.)

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.

I'm not sure where she gets the organization and forethought.  Certainly not from me or Oz.
But, I am thankful  "she's got skills" as she says. Her teacher told us, "She has the beauty and the brains!"

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.

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.

She has developed her own line of  lip balm and is an
avid artist. She styles outfits like a Fashionista.

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.

Whatever she may be, "I Will Love Her Forever and Like Her For Always!"

Furnishings

 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.

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.

But, 3 matter most to me because they have had an impact on who I am becoming.

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.


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.

 None of those 3 were The One,  but I found a bit more of myself from the lessons they taught me.

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.

I have not lived with them all, yet my home contains pieces of them.

One left behind dressers and bunk beds for my boys and a poop emoji pillow.

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.

The other gave me some fans, a lamp,  a robotic garbage can and a teddy bear.

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.

But, the parts that I kept seemed to fit. I accepted them and have made them my own.

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.

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.

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.

These comforts of home remind me of what I have chosen to keep as I move forward on my path.

I value the insights, the lessons, and the furnishings I have picked up along my way.

The Scent

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?

But, some people do seem to have an ACTUAL scent that is particularly attractive to others.

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.

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.

Oz didn't have The Scent. I stayed much more clear headed as I delved into marriage and family.
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.

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.

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.
But, after divorcing I realized there was a  link between "The Scent" and toxic people/relationships.

I encountered Deli Guy. 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.

I dated a few other guys at that time because I knew Deli Guy was not The One.

But, shortly after that,  I met...The Wild One.  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.

It's not cologne, its not laundry detergent. It is unexplainable.
Something just clicks in my brain and my judgment takes flight.

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.

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?
Or maybe I was able to see his genuine qualities more clearly and appreciate them without the fogginess of The Scent.

Hmmmmm....

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?

Inquiring minds want to know...

The Kingdom of Ash

Sometimes you meet people for a reason...sometimes that reason is so you can meet their dog. When Neighbor 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.

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.

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.

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 Oz 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.

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.

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.

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.

A few weeks after Ash moved in, we thought we would have her sister dog over for a play date.
BAD IDEA. Very bad. Within minutes together they were in a fight that looked like two lions on National Geographic ripping each other apart.

I did not stay calm. AT ALL.  In fact, I was the exact opposite of calm.

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.

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.

So I just screamed and screamed.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.
She shows off when we put on her tutu and call her pretty.
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.

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.

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!

Not THAT Beautiful

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?

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.

All I could hear was... ugly.

I pushed him off my lap and he sat up looking confused.

"What's the matter?" he asked as he tried to focus his eyes.

"Why are you telling me I am not beautiful?" I questioned.

"I never said that. I just meant you are MORE than beautiful.
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.

He seemed genuinely confused. I felt genuinely offended.

Thankfully he fell back to sleep and didn't remember the conversation when he woke up.

We didn't rehash that topic, but in my mind I just keep hearing "you're not THAT beautiful."

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."

It struck me how when I heard what this man was saying, I thought "wow how sweet!!"


But, hearing someone say it about me had hit a nerve.  Why?
Why couldn't I hear a compliment in that statement.
Where does that come from?
Is it because I don't believe I am beautiful?
Did I really think he was saying he doesn't think I am beautiful?

It started me thinking about... what is Beauty? Who is beautiful? How is it measured?
What does it mean to be not THAT beautiful? Or MORE than beautiful?

And why does it even matter to me what someone else thinks of me?

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!"

And when she looks at me she says, "Mama you are SO beautiful!"

That little girl reminds me that beauty is in each of us.  We just need to believe it and let it show.

"Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself."  - Coco Chanel

Hey Neighbor

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!

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!

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.

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.

Then, I hear someone say, "Hey Neighbor what are you up to?"

Oh. My. God.

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.

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!

He took out a utility knife and started helping me cut boxes.

 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.

He was funny and friendly and conversation just flowed. I felt like I had known him forever.
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!

A relaxing, fun summer of friendship turned into a Fall of more talking and even some hiking.
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!

Easy going, endless conversation, lots of laughing.


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.

Then one night he asked me if I wanted to go see a band at my favorite Pub .  Of course I did!
We danced a little, talked a lot and drank until I threw up.

 And we tried to turn it into a relationship...

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.

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.

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.

Dating a Neighbor erases ANY facade you might put up pretty quick. They see you taking out the trash and wearing jammies outdoors sometimes.

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?"

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.

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.


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.

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.

We were together for a few months  and it  was fun...until it wasn't.

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?

Well.....it didn't last. We eventually found that the things that make us who we each are didn't fit quite right together.

In the end, it was another lesson learned.

Walrus Kisses

Last summer, I decided to try online dating. I had been trying to break my habit of cycling back to the Wild One 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.

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.

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.
One was boring. His texts were like a bedtime story...zzzzz!
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.

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.

With an open mind I ventured out with him again.

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.

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.

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.

He was funny.  He was sweet. He had great stories.

And eventually he invited me over to "make dinner" for me.  Of course.

So I went.  Still being open-minded. Still thinking this would be my Habit Breaker. Still thinking this sweet, stable man had some potential.

He had a lovely house, which I realized when I arrived... he shared with ...his mother.
Thankfully she was away for the week.

He also had a small, handicapped dog that tried humping my leg through the entire dinner.

He offered me a glass of wine, but I ended up drinking the whole bottle.

When he kissed me I realized...shit was about to get real.

But, all I could think about was Walruses.  Giant, slobbering walruses.

Four minutes in...Ol' Man thought he was having a heart attack and was having a hard time breathing.

Shit Show!

I stayed long enough to make sure he had a pulse and then I ran.

On my way out he shouted, "Wait? Don't you want to finish the movie?"

Hell. NO.

Ol' Man was Not The Habit Breaker.

For the next 2 weeks I kept having weird dreams about walruses.
It was as if my MOJO had completely evaporated overnight.
I was worried it was gone forever.

The Wild One helped me prove my MOJO was just fine.
And that turned out to be trouble and eventually ended in disaster of course.
But that is a story for another time.

The Things I Didn't Know

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.

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!

But 2011 was about laundry, dishes, family vacations and playgroups.  I had life figured out. I had a plan. 

I didn't know what was coming...

Over that next year, my father got sick, my marriage fell apart and the life I once knew and loved disappeared.

 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. 

The hope seemed gone. 

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.  

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?  

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.  

Progress.  Hope Floats!

I Built Her Myself

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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?

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.

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.

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.

 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.

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.

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.
Ummm....nope.

Section by small freaking section I smoothed and flat ironed that straw back into silk.

Not too bad!

While the curling iron heated up we worked on her face.

Oh Self, what the hell happened here??

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?!

Luckily, I dug it out from the dark hole in the closet and gave her face a good scrubbing.
The old, dead, dried out skin went away. But, the underneath layer was sunburned and reddish and had some blemishes.

 I knew she would use these as excuses to put that darn onesie on and watch tv.

SO- I convinced her it was part of looking like summer!

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.

I decided instead to use a cream blush to highlight her cheeks and lips and leave the blemishes and "naturalness."

Hmmm....ok she was starting to perk up.

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.

Not bad!
Now for the eyeliner....inside edge of the bottom lid first.

OMG! She started to look alive.  So I kept going.

Outer edge of top lids.
And one slight wing at each edge.

Ohhhhhh my!

And finally my most favorite of all make-up....Mascara!
I had saved the best for last. I knew that lash by lash I could uncover my True Self.
I still had belief she was in there.

And as I swept that black wonder across those lashes, I saw her. Her eyes sparkled. She was awake now.

Before she lost the sparkle I added a touch of brown brow pencil and BAM!!!! She was alive in there!

It was HER- the woman that likes to listen to music and go out with friends and dance!

Oh, but the outfit, her eyes dulled at the thought.

I reminded her about the black dress hanging on the hook in her room.
She protested that it wasn't actually a dress, but a beach cover up.

I had already anticipated this reaction, so I was ready with a necklace and earrings
and WAAAAA-LAAAAA
it's a dress!

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.

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.

Finally dressed ...  I used a giant-barreled curling iron to add some OOOMPH to her hair.
Just a few well placed curls because at this point I'm lucky she even has any patience left at all.

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!


And then...she looks in the mirror and seems to approve. Or at least not head back to the couch.

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!

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.

And I know she will be ok...because I built her myself.

Clumps of Wisdom

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.

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!)

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?

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.

Makes sense.

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.

I also learned,  it takes incredible strength to move and shape clay into something other than a clump.  Who would have thought??
 But, I think I can count my wheel throwing time as my workout for the week!!

Bit by bit, week by week I am starting to shape something.
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.

And I have a hobby!

~Abba, you are the potter and I am the clay~

Relationships: The Dead Cow Analogy

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. During the commercial break, The Goofballs added their own commentary and related the episode to my life.

Goofball #1 began the lecture....so Mom, we noticed The Wild One has been around again.

I had been mindlessly zoning out, so I snapped to attention and was like "Huh?"

He continued...
So you said you were done and you were moving on.  But, now he's around again.
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.

Wait, what? Am I the cow??

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. 

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. 

This lecture was starting to sound a lot like the Dua Lipa song, New Rules 
"don't let him in
You'll have to kick him out again, 

 don't be his friend
 ...if you're under him
You ain't getting over him"

I was REALLY hoping we were not going THERE. 

Oh but we were...

Goofball #2 says
It's ok if you want to be friends with him.  Just don't be "FRIEND Friends."  Don't be "Kissing Friends."

Omg, did my Little Bear just say Kissing Friends??

And my Baby Doll had the last word...
Don't be friends.  Be DONE.

Thankfully at that point the commercial break ended and Full House returned. 

I was speechless through most of the conversation, but I recovered enough to thank them all for their honesty and valuable opinions. 

 I also let them know we are no longer using Hulu. We are going back to Netflix because there are no commercial breaks. 

Tat Tales

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?

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.

I don't remember that first tattoo hurting very much, but that was 24 years ago so it might have.
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.

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.

My next tattoo was when I was 20.  I had a fake tattoo that I loved of a Moon and a shooting star.
One night I was just finishing my waitressing shift and a coworker and I were talking about tattoos.
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.
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.
It was on my hip and it burned!!

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.

So when I turned 40 I finally went to get it redone.
I had the moon joined by a sun and the shooting star covered.
It's better, but still not like the first picture I had of it.

At 41 I got my next one.  My Feather on my foot.  I LOVE my feather.
It is perfectly proportioned on my foot and looks amazing when I wear heels.
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.

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.

So we took a walk over the the shop and decided to get new tattoos.
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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.
Rise up from the flames. Learn life lessons. Move on. Be Better than Before.

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.

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.

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.

Not many people see that one.  I can't even really see it, so I forget it's there most of the time.
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.
So Bella thinks it's special that she knows about it.

She told me that when she turns 18 she wants us to get matching Unicorns!
I am definitely up for that!

In the meantime, I have been contemplating a tiny behind the ear tattoo next.
Pinterest pinning time!

"No RAGRETS!  Not Even One Letter??"

The Secret to a Happy Marriage

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.)

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.

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.

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?
He is looking at me and wants to know how long will we plan to be in the house.
Well...who knows?? It was a starter home ...but here we are 14 years later.  So...

Then he says, so how long have you known each other?  Well...about 16 years.

"WOW!" he says, "so what's the secret to a happy marriage?"

Ummm...Divorce?!

The Way We Woo- Amended Version

 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 Skinny Jeans Debacle with Oz. But,  I recently wrote a post called the Art of Wooing.  And The Wild One had a few things to add.  And so here goes....

The back story is:
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.




Recently...

 I have been struggling with a Squirrel problem for what feels like years. EVERY damn winter the squirrels move into my attic.

Oz has helped me keep it under control with setting traps each winter.

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.

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!

This winter when the squirrels moved in,  a friend suggested a guy he knows that could patch the hole in the roof.

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.

It snows more. Lots more.
The squirrels get louder, a lot louder.

This past week I was doing laundry in my basement and heard the squirrels scurrying loudly through the walls.  I FREAKED OUT!!!

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.

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.
Also, no one was immediately available to run over to rescue my family from the Squirrel Invasion.

I knew it was time to ask for help so... I called The Wild One.

Thankfully he called back.

As soon as I heard his voice,  I knew it would be ok.
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.

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.

When The Wild One arrived, I felt like my entire body exhaled.
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.

I hadn't realized how much stress I felt until I let it go.

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.

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.

He turned and looked at me, and said...  I hope you will remember this the next time you decide to trash talk me.


And there it was..

Having to face reality. Nothing happens in a bubble.

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.

Well...

The old saying - don't burn your bridges-  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.

As he continued patching up the squirrels' destruction with sheets of metal, he mentioned having read my blog post.

 Uh-oh.

Which one do you mean??  (because depending on the answer the conversation can go from discussion to shit-show in about a minute!)

He says...The Wooing one.

Oh! Ok good. Not confrontational at all. Right?!

Well... it definitely opened up an interesting discussion..and gave me a new perspective.

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.

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.

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)
But, it wasn't a joke.  Those projects made me feel safe and cared for.

He didn't just clean out the garage, but also built a bike rack that helps keep it clean and organized on regular basis.



There were times he cleaned my kids' bedrooms and built a bed for my daughter. It was an amazing difference!



He taught me how to organize my kitchen cabinets and bedroom drawers and closets.  And keep my bill piles straight, something I really struggled with.


And one of the times he Wooed me (and my neighbor) was when he chainsawed trees down in the backyard for me.


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.
He taught my boys how to put new tires and brakes on their bikes.



When I was first diagnosed with MS he drove me to doctor appointments and helped me navigate IVs and injections.

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.

I am very fortunate that I also have Oz. He helps with so many things for me and for the kids!



Recently, it was VERY entertaining to see OZ and The Wild One team up to hunt squirrels together.
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.

But, it is about more than which method will eventually rid the attic of squirrels.

 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.
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!

I hope this story ends up with less squirrels soon!! To be continued...