Archive for January, 2012


What Are We?

Sunday dinners are my favorite.  Normally, the family is in a good mood from a relaxing weekend and dinner is better because I have more time for preparation.  Sundays give us time to talk about the week ahead, reminisce about the weekend, and just catch up on life in general.

Last Sunday, I was particularly happy with my selection of stuffed shells for the main course.  Everyone was happy, except for Jeanette; she does not care for ricotta cheese.  Jeanette was picking at her food until I brought out the shredded cheese.  In an attempt to hide the ricotta, Jeanette was covering her food with the cheddar by the handful.  Brittney, always having to be the boss told her to stop and that “cheese was cheese.”

Jeanette was ready to argue.  “Cheese is not just cheese!  There is Swiss and Cheddar….” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to think of more to prove her point.

Trying to move the conversation along, I decided to help.  “What are we?” I asked.

“People?” She responded confused.  The room erupted in laughter.  A moment later, she said, “Oh, American!”  She joined in with her own giggles.

The rest of our dinner was pretty uneventful.  However, the mood was lightened.  Honestly, the random moment of ditziness was the highlight of the meal.  It was completely unexpected and innocent.  We all have those moments but life is just too busy to pay it any attention.  Thank goodness we have Sundays to slow it down and enjoy the moments.


Out of the Sorrow

With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts.  -Eleanor Roosevelt

It is hard for me to believe but five years ago this week my life was turned upside down.  I became a widow.  I had become estranged from my husband prior to that morning.  But nothing can prepare you for the knock on the door.  There is not a single book out there that can guide you through explaining to your children why their father is not coming back.

In many ways, I was very lucky.  Like I mentioned previously, I had become estranged from my husband prior to his death.  I was not waiting for him to come home.  My children were not expecting him to tuck them in that night.

It was never easy.  Honestly, the first year is still a blur.  I was numb from the pain and focused on protecting my children from the scary world that we live in.  But each day, the pain became a little less.  Eventually, I realized that I could not run away.

My children gave me the strength to continue moving forward, even if it did take me a bit to get started.  Five years later, we are doing well.  We have a home, a dog, and a sense of security that I once thought was impossible to obtain.  My children are doing great in school, are involved in activities, and have friends.  I cannot begin to express how thankful I am that I have my children; I honestly do not know that I could have ever survived the grieving process alone.

I know that everything happens for a reason.  I would never in a million years have wished to become a widow five years ago or for my children to lose their father.  However, out of the sorrow came an much progress and strength.  For that, I am thankful.


Not The Undies, Mom. Don’t Worry.

Since Britt gets to come home to an empty house in the afternoons, she has to text me in the afternoons just to let me know she made it home okay.  Initially she was just to text me when she got in the house, but she started texting me when she gets on the bus which is fine with me.  I actually look forward to our brief little chats while she is on the bus for the five minute commute home.  Most days, they are nothing more than a simple, “How was your day?”

Todays, however, caught me a little off guard.  After the normal small talk, Britt let me know that there was a fight breaking out on the bus and that boys were cursing at the driver.  Moments later, I got the text, “Freddy just pulled down his pants and is being taken off the bus.”

Needless to say, this caught me off guard.  The mental picture of a pant less boy on the bus had my head shaking.  But it was next text that really struck me funny.  She felt the need to tell me, “Not the undies, just pants.  Don’t worry.”

Is it bad that it never entered my mind that my child might have seen more than the boy in his tighty whities?  Seriously, what more can this week have in store?  Vibrators, pant less boys, the possibilities are endless, and rather disturbing.


Vibrating Questions

Today was one of those days that no parenting class can prepare you for.  It started as such a nice, quiet evening.  That is always when they attack.  Just when you think that there is peace and harmony in the house, one of them throws you curve ball.

I have always tried to keep an open line of communication with both girls.  Normally, it is cool.  Sometimes it is tedious.  Sometimes dramatic.  Sometimes funny.  Most of the time¸ our conversations are rated G or PG13 at best.  And then, Brittany entered puberty.

I am not a terribly conservative parent.  My kids learned about life and death at an early age.  They watched my sister have boyfriends parade in and out of her life.  They recently watched me re-enter the dating world after their father passed away.  Now, they are watching her go through pregnancy.  We have talked about girl things, the changes that they are going through, boys, the normal pre-pubescent things that are on most tween girls’ minds.

So what leaves me, this not so terribly conservative mom speechless?  Tonight, Britt had to talk to me, alone.  Normally, alone means at bedtime.  However, tonight that was not the case.  Apparently the topic was weighing heavy on her mind, because out of nowhere she blurted out, “Oh fine, I will just ask you now.  Mom, what’s a vibrator?”

A VIBRATOR?!  She is twelve!  I did not know about what a vibrator was until I was like twenty.   What do I do? I did what any respectable mother would do and excused myself to the bathroom.  Moments later, there she was again.  When I tried to tell her that I would explain it to her later in life, she was not satisfied.  So, I did what I did with most of the hard to talk about topics and put it as simply as I could.  I simply said, “It is a sex toy.”

Unfortunately, this was not sufficient.  So, I elaborated.  This flustered her, much to my amusement.  She agreed that she did not need to know after all.  Satisfied, I began to leave the room only to be faced with one more question, “Have you ever used one?”  OMG, how do I answer that?

I lied, of course.  Don’t judge me.