OK... so there's the fantasy and then there's reality

Right.

Whatever.

Fantasy vs. Reality.

It's a load of bullshit.

Just sayin'

*****

I've been caught off guard by remarkable sadness this weekend. Profound loneliness.

It's short lived and a fully reasonable way to feel in the midst of the Unbloggable.

But the feelings still caught me by surprise.

I'm a Big Girl.

I have a good job and a good paycheck.

I have my kids.

I have my friends.

I have my family.

I have blessings and miracles in my life too numerous to count.

So how, even for a minute, can I feel so alone?

So overwhelmed.

So sad.

Fantasy vs. Reality

The Fantasy was that I was in a partnership. That I had someone to lean on.

That I wasn't doing it all on my own.

A long time ago, that was the Reality. And it was awesome.

But for quite a while now, the Reality has been that I'm flying solo.

Maybe that's not accurate.

Maybe that's not really how it is was.

But that's how it feels felt.

That's my perception.

ah lah

So when I get slammed by feelings of fear and inadequacy how can I do this on my own? I have to get a grip on myself and say ummmm.... excuse me.... nothing much has changed in terms of your day to day life, michelle. It's pretty much the same as it's been for a long time.

But now it has a label.

Separated again

Single Mom again

Don't get me wrong. This isn't a pity party. You know that's not the way I roll.

This is me telling myself to suck it the fuck up

It all depends on how you look at it. Right?

It's just a perception.

Like last week's Snowmageddon II.

The snow did not make me happy.

Though it did provide a snow day, giving me 10 days straight home with the kids.

A mixed blessing to say the least.

I can't wait to get back to work tomorrow.

So. Snowmageddon. The storm brought me the opportunity for a Reality Check.

The Fantasy being: I'm an Awesome Mom

The Reality being: I Suck.

Why do I suck?

Because every year I wait until the first really big snowstorm hits to outfit my ever growing children with new snowboots and appropriate snow gear. And then we can't get to the store because we're in the midst of a really big snowstorm.

Wailing and gnashing of teeth ensue because dammit mom it's snowing and we want to go sledding and our boots from last year don't fit this year.

So. It's all how you look @ it.

Alter the perception.

My kids have gigantor feet. I'm a 9. Ty's feet are the same size as mine. Mia is a size smaller. Jack is a size bigger.

A Sucky Mom would NEVER let her kids wear her Most Special Boots sledding.

But an AWESOME Mom would.

fleece lined black leather uggs

Sorel Joan of Arcs

brown leather furry Earth boots

3 sets of mommy boots

fitting 3 kids with

really big feet

All of a sudden, I don't suck anymore. And the kids can go sledding.*

*****

So when the Reality of Separated and Single Mom sneaks up and kicks me in my ass I realize that it's only my perception that's changed. The Reality is the same as it's always been.

And the only reality is... it's not so hard to re-frame an idea and change a perception.

I do what I do.

I go to work.

I take care of my kids.

I take care of me.

That's it.

That's my Reality.

That's my Life.

It's full and intense and makes my heart swell.

I kinda like it that way.

*****

Fantasy is where the magic lives.

Fantasy is the smattering of bubbles that float through my days.

Little bubbles of happiness just for me.

Bubbles that touch my heart with magic and hope and light.

Bubbles impervious to stress and time and homework and dishes.

Bubbles to remind me that life is not all work and kids.

Bubbles to remind me that life is a miracle.

Bubbles where the sky is so fucking blue and the leaves are so fucking green that it makes my eyes hurt.

Bubbles where namaste lives.

Blogland is a bubble.

A place of questionable Reality which is oh so real because it's where our hearts are.

My job brings me bubbles.

Babies are magic. Sick kids are magic.

I look in their eyes as I do my thing and feel the magic. they call me the Baby Whisperer

I look in their eyes and they look in mine and I see the eyes of my Ganesh looking back at me.

*****

So they say the thing about Fantasy is that it's not real. It's not attainable. It's naive.

It's NOT REALITY.

Bullshit.

It's all about perception. It's all how you look at it.

It's about making things happen and seeing the magic.

There are so many magical things in our lives. Anything is possible.

Miracles happen every day.

20 years ago, I started seeing Miracles. Seeing Magic. I saw Fantasy kick Reality in it's ass.

You can read about it here.

Ms. Moon made me think about it when I read this. `

So. I believe that anything is possible. Anything is attainable.

We can make miracles for ourselves.

We can make a bubble of magic and light and joy.

Seriously.

*ok. So I didn't really let all 3 kids wear wear all 3 of my most prized and special footwear.

J saved my Sucky Mom Ass with boots for the boys.

Mia wore the Joan of Arcs.

She looked damn cool.

But I WOULD HAVE let them do it. That counts for something, right?

Catch up #1

I have a bunch of half-completed posts. The week got away from me.

Too much Unbloggable going on, resulting in bloggus interruptus.

So I'm playing catch-up today

*****

Just before Thanksgiving, Dr. Arlene said So? Are the holidays gonna be weird this year? It's the first year without your mom.

Now I love Dr. Arlene to pieces. She's brash and loud and completely insane. She's a 56 year old born and bred Brooklyn Kosher Jew who can drop blowjob in the same sentence as ear infection. She doesn't pull any punches and she pisses A LOT of people off. She's also an amazing pediatrician. Out of the 26 of us, she's one of the few I take my own kids to.

Lots of people can't stand her. When I look at her I see a big fat fucking diamond hidden in the body of a crazy person.

So she asked me this question out of the blue, in the middle of the nurses station in her big crazy voice. It was kind of awkward.

The nurses looked around in discomfort and then looked at me to see if I was OK and then rolled their eyes oh my god she is so fucking impossible.

The question caught me off guard.

No. Not at all. It will be fine.

I was so wrong.

I think we the Sisters all felt a big weird hole. I felt disoriented and off balance.

I don't know if my wackiness was due to Christmas without our parents or Christmas in the wake of the Unbloggable.

Probably both.

It could also have been the struggle to not scream at the top of my lungs and fall down on the floor in a sobbing hysterical puddle.

That shit takes a lot of energy to hold in.

At the end of the evening we exchanged gifts. OK. So there wasn't much of an exchange.

We had all kind of agreed to keep gifts to a minimum, maybe just stocking stuffers for the kids or special hand me downs.

Sister Adrienne had stockings for her twins cause she brilliantly has kept her home and her babies' brains Consumer Christmas Free. wish i had done the same.

Sister Halona and I looked at the pile of Christmas stockings in utter confusion.

Inside the Twins' stockings were cards from their Grumsie.

Her handwriting.

Cash in each card.

Michelle!?! what is this??? what the fuck is this??? Where did these come from???

Sister Halona is Baptist.

She does NOT swear.

Those are from last year. Maybe Adrienne forgot them and they've been in the stockings all this time.

No. NO. The stockings were all empty. Where did these come from?

I think she was a little freaked out.

It didn't help that we were in the room intended for our mom to live out the rest of her days. She never made it there.

Sister Melanie had gifts for the nieces and nephews.

Framed photos of each grandchild with Grums and Gramps.

Everyone was crying.

Sister Halona said nice going Mel

Then Sister Melanie handed me a box.

The best picture EVER of me. I do not photograph well. I get all spazzy and blink and can't smile right. This was taken on Sister Melanie's wedding day. It was a happy day. I was happy and my eyes were leaking. And someone with a camera caught it.

Sister Melanie also gave me Ruby Slippers

Best Christmas Gift EVER

causing me to fall down on the floor

in a sobbing hysterical puddle

I'm glad Christmas is over...

Christmas Eve 2010

It SO doesn't feel like Christmas Eve

Christmas in our house growing up was a huge deal.

My mom went all out though she never appeared to enjoy it.

She always just looked stressed and aggravated.

At least that's how I remember it.

*****

She loved to cook. I remember one December Saturday when I was maybe 9 our daddy took all 5 of us off somewhere. I think maybe to see the Rockettes at Radio City. She spent the whole day alone baking. It might have been the best day of her entire year. When we got home that evening, there were racks of cookies covering every surface of the kitchen and dining room.

Dark chocolate truffley things. Russian tea cakey things. Jelly filled things. Chocolate lacy things.

Yum

She made Christmas ornaments. Collected and spray painted pine cones. 12 drummers drumming out of clothespins. Lacy white crocheted snowflakes. I remember watching her stick them to the side of the box freezer in the basement, smeared with starch so they would dry stiff and hang flat on the tree. I remember us making felt Christmas Bells when I was 6 or 7 or 8. She had already taught me how to use a sewing machine. We cut the felt. We sewed them together. We glued the ric-rak. We punched holes and fixed colored grommets with some cool tool contraption she had.

We made the bells together. That kinda shit didn't happen very often.

She made us Christmas dresses every year. All 4 of us. We would go to the fabric store and pick out patterns and fabric and inevitably she'd be up till 3 am Christmas Eve eve finishing the last dress. Because on Christmas Eve dayshe started cooking. She'd pull together a menu from the December issues of Food and Wine and Bon Appetit and Gourmet. This was back in the day when it was almost impossible to find something like cardamom or fresh juniper berries. A crown roast or fresh oysters needed to be special ordered.

And the Midnight Christmas Eve service in our fancy Christmas Dresses.

Daddy and I sang in the choir we sucked

Candles. Incense. Heavily spiked eggnog.

What??? we were Episcopal

So. Not much Christmas Spirit around here. It's not my usual Grinchy-tude. I'm just not that into it this year. The kids put up the tree. I bought boxes ofprobably gross frozen finger foods at BJs to take to Sister Halona's for our Christmas Feast. Screw cooking. I voted we order in Chinese. Sister Halona almost excommunicated me after that.

The pict on my header? From last year. I got the lights up but they're not plugged in. A few blue balls are hanging. Maybe I'll get the rest up tomorrow yes tomorrow as in christmas

Jack looked out the window at the half decorated porch and said not to be criticistic mom, but you're like the last one to get your lights up.

Criticistic? Did you say criticistic? Is that a word?

It is now. I'm George Bush.

Fukin funny kid

*****

I snuck out this evening to fill my new xanax prescription pharmacy closed get some feminine hygiene products damn peri-menopause and buy last minute candy for stocking stuffers.

I drove down Main St, looking at the lights and thinking about how un-christmasy I feel.

Filled up the van with gas and picked up my Friday night 6 of hard cranberry lemonade.

Mr Gas Station Man asked for my ID.

I loved that

ID? Of course! hee hee hee Handed over my license.

Puzzled look on Mr Gas Station Man's face. I chuckled

Is this you? Which is funny cause I look even younger on my ID

Yup. I pulled off my glasses and laughed. 47. Good genes

He smiled and said God Gives

I smiled back and said He Sure Does

The Universe is Abundant

Merry Fuckin Christmas

This isn't effin Kansas anymore

I've always loved that movie. I think it's the most perfect movie ever made.

Every single second of every single scene is a perfect still shot.

I've loved it since I was 3. The Wicked Witch of the West always scared the shit out of me.

And my nose always stings when Dorothy says goodbye to the Scarecrow.

*****

I feel just a little ok maybe a lot like I've landed in Oz.

Things are somewhat familiar but also intense and heavy and my emotions have been splashed with a bucket of Technicolor.

But I still feel like me.

Which I guess is a good thing.

Me. Up in a cyclone.

Watching the elements of my day my life tumble past my picture window eyes.

Me. Looking for Peace and a way Home.

Me. Building my Posse along the way.

A Cast of Characters, also searching for their missing parts but who have such good lessons to teach and such good lovin help to give.

Friends. Patients. Co-workers. A Sears Repair Technician that's a story for another day. Bloggers who pour their guts out.

All on their own Yellow Brick Roads. Their crazy life situations tossed in my path as a reminder that we're all in this together.

As a reminder that I am the lucky one.

As a reminder that things could be so much worse.

There but for the grace of god go i.

I have my health. Physical and mental sort of. My kids are pretty ok for now. I have resources.

I am extraordinarily fortunate even in the presence of Oz the Great and Terrible.

I have my Field of Poppies in the form of a baby dose of xanax and a Mike's Hard Lemonade at bedtime.

A bitch needs her sleep, right SB?

So there you go. Trying to find my way back home. There's no hourglass. There isn't even really a Wicked Witch. Just a long path.

But I have good shoes with lots of support and a high arch so I'm ok.

I'll see you on the Road.

Reflection

It's been a week of reflection.

I haven't stepped foot in blogland. I've used the time to think and process and understand.

And feel.

It's been quiet here.

Not a bad quiet. Kind of a hmmm... maybe this is ok quiet.

A calm quiet.

Maybe a good quiet.

I don't know yet.

It's been a week of lots of deep breaths.

And lots of deep thoughts and lots of deep feelings.

It's been a week of honesty.

Love this. I've been afraid of changing cause I've built my life around you

ignore the dumb-funny ad in the beginning

I've linked to it before. It squeezes my heart.

A Christmas Treat

This is The Funniest Holiday Post I've ever read.

And since Christmas is all about sharing, I'm sending it to you as a gift.

Cause you are all awesome and I want you to giggle today.

xoxoxo

Sunday School from the Beacon Satellite Chapel of the Church of the Batshit Crazy

This was last Sunday's post before the shit hit the fan.

I'm terrible at thank-you notes but I want to thank each and every one of you awesome bloggers for your comments and emails and most of all your love.

You have given me strength and perspective.

You got me through.

thank you

*****

I understand about a fingernail's worth of the Hindu religion and culture. It's insanely complicated and convoluted and there are like 47 Sanskrit words that seem to all mean the same thing. Or one word can mean 112 different things.

Ganesh Ganesha Ganapati Vinayaka Omkara Vighnahara

that's just the beginning

he has 108 different names

I love the mythology. I love the symbolism. I love the color and the intensity and the ornamentation. It's malleable. It's multilayered. It sits well with me. From the million gazillion symbols and specifics, I could conjure my perfect Ganesh.

Ganesha

Guardian of the Indian Home

Remover of Obstacles

Lord of Beginnings

Lord of Farming

Lord of Learning

Anyone can invoke Ganesha

He requires no priest as intermediary

He transcends religious, class, and caste

I first knew Ganesha as

the Remover of Obstacles to Happiness

since I don't believe in happiness

my dark and twisty

tweaked it to

the Remover of Obstacles to Understanding

much better

I don't need to be happy

I just need to understand

And I began to understand

Ganesha

all apparent contradictions

in the Universe and in my Brain

can be contained in Ganesha's big belly

Ganesha's trunk curves to the left

forming the shape of the sacred syllable OM

the vibration at the origin of the cosmos

Ganesha appeared with the sound

and danced the Universe into existence

the great sage Vyasa agreed to recite

the epic narrative of India

only if Ganesh agreed to

write it down

without halting.

the recitation went on for weeks

when all his pens were worn down,

Ganesha broke off his tusk and dipped it in ink

thus saving the story of India

as the Bhagavad Gita

i've tried to read it 3 times but it continues to be ice picks in my eyes

sigh

Ganesha

the Lord of Storytellers

funny huh?

the lotus flower symbolizes all of creation

as well as spiritual purity

the bowl of sweets represents the

pleasures of knowledge and spiritual wisdom

In one hand, my Ganesha holds an axe

to break the bonds of ignorance

the axe also severs

the ties that bind us to material things

One hand is raised with the symbol of enlightenment

OM

see! it means a bunch of different things

which comes with liberation from all want and desire

the Serpent coiled around Ganesha's belly

symbolizes Kundalini Shakti

the coiled and latent psychic energy

deep within each of us that seeks union

with the undifferentiated consciousness

of the Universe

we are all one

though Ganesha's many arms are raised to attain the spiritual

one foot always remains well grounded

amen